One often feel as tense as a wound-up clock once the workday ends. My shoulders grow tense, breathing becomes rapid and shallow. Typically, the sound of my laptop lid slamming shut 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 discovered my now-adult son’s old school recorder up in the loft. I idly blew into it, instantly reminded of the time it was the bane of my life – his daily practice a violent assault on my eardrums, the piercing shriek still reverberating through my head long after he slept.
Instead of throwing it away, I took it down, together with a beginner’s songbook. Growing up, I had no musical talent whatsoever. I took recorder classes in primary school, yet never got to try 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, yet for a stressed, impatient, musically-challenged adult, it felt like a huge achievement.
My son asked what the hell I was doing (and begged me to quit), but I kept going – I enjoyed the sensation the recorder gave me. Forgetting notes easily meant I had to concentrate on the sheet of paper in front of me, and painstakingly copy the finger positions. My breathing slowed down, my attention sharpened, and once I’d mastered that first faltering tune, I was overjoyed. I had managed to play music.
Today, after some months, I can handle other children’s songs and a decent Ode to Joy. Yes, my timing is rubbish, and I still need to write the names of the notes down, but to 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 probably relieves parents, 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 am in my own little world. Afterward, I feel totally energised and uplifted.
My friends think it’s hilarious, yet a therapist friend informed me I was not only lowering my stress levels, but improving my cognitive skills, like memory and sound processing, which is precious at my age. For daily wellness, it’s truly an ode to joy.
