I often feel as tense as a wound-up clock once the workday ends. My shoulders grow tense, breathing becomes rapid and shallow. Typically, closing my laptop with a thud used to lead to the squeak of a cork pulled from a bottle of red, wine poured quickly into a glass, that initial sip marking the end of the workday.
Then, a few months ago, I came across my now-adult son’s old school recorder up in the loft. Curious, I blew into it, instantly reminded of the time it was the bane of my life – his daily rehearsals felt like an attack on my ears, the piercing shriek still reverberating through my head long after he slept.
Instead of throwing it away, I brought it downstairs, together with a beginner’s songbook. As a child, I was the least musical child ever. I took recorder classes in primary school, but never had the opportunity to learn other instruments.
Googling “how to play the recorder”, I watched dozens of YouTube videos aimed at children, and printed out a fingering chart. Looking up simple recorder songs, and was thrilled when I managed to knock out a passable Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Admittedly, it was something your average five-year-old could master before first break, but as a tone deaf, impatient and stressed 51-year-old, it felt like a huge achievement.
My son questioned my actions (and begged me to quit), but I kept going – I liked the way the recorder made me feel. My inability to remember anything meant I had to concentrate on the sheet of paper in front of me, and painstakingly copy the finger positions. My breathing slowed down, I was focused, and once I’d mastered that first faltering tune, I felt euphoric. I had managed to play music.
Today, several months later, I can “play” other nursery rhymes and a passable Ode to Joy. Yes, my timing is rubbish, and I must jot down note names, but for me, it’s not about being skilled or a “musician” – it’s purely about the joy it provides and how it clears my mind while playing.
I learned that few kids play the recorder today, which was no doubt music to parents’ ears, yet it made me wistful for my school years, as well as my son’s.
I try to pick up my recorder every evening after work before I do anything else, and in those 20 or so minutes, I escape into my own realm. Afterward, I feel refreshed and happy.
My friends find it amusing, but one very wise therapist friend told me that I was reducing stress, but improving my cognitive skills, such as memory and auditory processing, which is invaluable at my time of life. And in terms of my day-to-day wellbeing, it’s a real “ode to joy” indeed.
