The problem with practicing the piano is that I know how far my skills have fallen. It’s been years since I played, so the fall isn’t unexpected. I simply have an awareness of how far I have to go if I hope to rise to that level again.
The distance could be a discouraging, frustrating thing, but it isn’t. Perhaps more correctly, I refuse to let it be. I’ve already decided my perfectionism won’t win this battle. My steadiness in practicing will. It may take me several months or even a year, but I can live with that reality. I can rest within it.
The reason for my peace has to do with an understanding that the skill level will come again. It’s just not here yet. I’m in that “gap” of which Ira Glass speaks. I know where I want to be and can see it. I can either give up now, or I can pursue that goal with passionate patience.
I choose the latter because it is a state of active waiting. Patience in this case is no passive thing. It is a state filled with expectancy, activity, and promise. I know the good that will come if I persevere. I cannot say the same of quitting. Quitting holds no promise except of disgust and shame, so I keep practicing. I endure because of the promise that awaits.
Image: woodleywonderworks (Creative Commons)
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