After finishing high school, I chose to study music. I had been playing the piano since I was six years old, and I loved it. Sitting at the piano and trying to sight-read sheet music was a challenge for me.
When I was little, my first piano teacher was very patient. When she was about to teach me a new piece, she would place the sheet music on the music stand and slowly describe details. She gave me time to ask any questions I might have, and then she would ask me the same details she had described to confirm that I understood everything.
These details included the name of the piece, the composer, the key and its corresponding key signature (how it’s written on the staff), the tempo (how fast or slow), and the time signature (beats per unit of time).
When she realized I could perceive general details, she would begin playing the piece for me. After doing this a couple of times, it was my turn to start trying.
I remember being very hesitant about sight-reading because I was so embarrassed about making a mistake while reading in front of the teacher. On sheet music (the sheet where the music is written), the note I never forgot was C Specifically, middle C was simply a note in the middle of the staves with a horizontal line in between. Visually, it was unmistakable for me.
Piano sheet music has two staves (a group of five horizontal parallel lines), which would be the equivalent of two “lines” on a sheet of paper. Each staff has a different clef: a treble clef for the right hand and a bass clef for the left hand. Without going into too much technical detail, although the staves are the same, because they are in different clefs, the notes read differently in each clef.
I never considered myself good at sight-reading. I memorized musical pieces, more by muscle memory than by reading. The good thing is that it helped me work in different areas once I had the piece memorized.
That self-perception of “not being good at reading” continued until I entered college. And with my piano teacher, I was truly impressed by his exceptional sight-reading ability. He played each piece the first time as if he had already studied it thoroughly. Truly a master.
Having this professor with incredible sight-reading skills, I was even more embarrassed about making mistakes during class, especially when I supposedly have had time to practice. Anyway… I had to deal with that feeling. He never criticized my reading; on the contrary, he encouraged me to keep practicing.
It was also during that first year of college that I had to choose a complementary instrument. And because the other instruments I was interested in were full, I ended up with the cello.
And things changed for me.
The piano and the cello are very, VERY different instruments.
My first cello teacher was also incredibly patient with me, as was my first piano teacher. Only I was already 18 at the time.
My studies continued, and each semester I fell more in love with the cello. The cello literally made my heart vibrate, as the back of the instrument rests in front of the heart.
And I decided to make a change. I switched my main instrument from piano to cello.
Have you ever found yourself needing to make a significant change in your life?
Tuning a piano requires a specialized technician. And tuning a cello requires practice, and VERY good tuning with your ear. At least I needed it to be able to tune it well.
Since that skill wasn’t necessary on the piano, I’d never had the need to cultivate my listening in such a detailed way.
Many years later, I can see that this experience of learning to tune the cello has helped me seek to “tune myself” to God’s love and to participate (as St. Hildegard alludes) in the symphony of creation.
What the piano required of me was coordination, reading, expression, technique, and memory. But the cello asked me to develop a more detailed and profound listening ability .
Although the piano is a harmonic instrument, the class focused on individual interpretation. And since the cello is a melodic instrument, the class always considered that there would eventually be an ensemble, emphasizing that we would have to listen beyond the cello. Again, “stretching” the ability to listen in detail.
When I finished my studies, I graduated with the cello as my main instrument. I auditioned for the Chihuahua State Philharmonic Orchestra, and to my own surprise, I was admitted.
Being part of the cello section and the orchestra was an experience that expanded my perception. Feeling the cello’s vibration in my body was amplified in rehearsals, but especially in concerts. The conductor was preparing, and the orchestra was his instrument.
For me, this experience of starting with the piano, then the cello and learning to tune it, and then joining the orchestra is something that continues to nourish me.
The skills of listening, attentiveness, sensitivity, and practice are something I continue to use and practice in my life and in my pastoral work.
Seeking to hear the detailed tuning of my cello helps me seek to be attentive to the tuning of God’s love for me.
Practicing listening to the tuned note invites me to seek and find that note of love within myself.
Practicing correct tuning invites me to listen to myself.
Practicing with others invites me to observe the harmonious or dissonant relationships in my life and seek to fine-tune them when necessary.
Having followed an orchestra conductor invites me to ask myself if I want to be led by God’s movements in my life.
And when there is dissonance, errors in the instrument or in life, it takes effort and willpower to want to “tune” or correct them.
It is a mutual listening, an interchange.
After his resurrection, Jesus appears to his disciples several times. The third time, the disciples were in a fishing boat, tired because they hadn’t caught anything all night.
After Jesus tells them to change sides in the boat, they get an abundant catch, and then they recognize him.
A little while later, Jesus and Peter have a conversation that I imagine must have been very difficult for Peter.
The last time Jesus and Peter saw each other, it was after Peter realized that he had indeed denied being a disciple of Jesus.
If Peter’s words could be compared to the melody of an instrument, Peter must have been quite out of tune with himself, and in great dissonance with God.
However, Jesus asks Peter three times if he loves him. Perhaps one question for each denial.
And Peter had enough courage to “tune” his answer and follow the movements of his interior, oriented toward love.
If your heart were an instrument, what would the melody of your life be like? Could you be part of the symphony of creation?
If there’s one thing I learned in a very tangible way in the orchestra, it was to listen, and to know that what was expected of the cello section was also required in the orchestra, in the musical pieces, and was also expected by the conductor.
In a way, listening is a form of exchange.
And you, do you have an exchange with Jesus?
I had the opportunity to have an excellent Interchange with my friend Julio de León on his podcast. We discussed the analogy of our being as instruments of God, as well as the invitation we have to tune into his love. We can imagine God as the conductor of the orchestra of creation. This Interchange, Intercambio, was conducted in Spanish.
If the Spirit leads you, I invite you to listen to this conversation with my friend Julio de León on his podcast, Intercambio, and bring your conclusions to your personal prayer. And perhaps, you can discover the resonance and harmony of God’s love in your life.
Special thanks to GIA Publications for the invitation.
You can read the English transcript HERE while you listen in Spanish.
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P.S. We can hear about how Peter “tuned” his interior and his life in the readings for the Third Sunday of Easter, Year/Cycle C.
P.P.S. Send me a message if you’d like to participate in a workshop on deep listening, attentiveness, and seeking God’s love within yourself.
