On being Reliable

I am determined: It is time to conquer all that stands in the way of my being a free piano-playing person.

In my quest for victory, memories begin to stir, begin to float themselves to the surface.

I remember, being a wee little baby baby freshman, swimming in a big big sea with very much larger fish.

I remember that I didn't know what I didn't know, but that I was there to try.

My good friend Patrick, a tenor of some fine quality, asked me if I would accompany him.  I agreed.

I practiced, we practiced.  I did what I knew how to do.  We brought it to his teacher, a woman I will call Dr. N.   Dr. N. considered herself a bit of a pianist, and Patrick a bit of a pet.  Dr. N. did not think I was Patrick material.  

I remember that lesson, that after we showed her what we'd done, she sat down on the bench and showed me what I should do instead.  It was, I suppose, a relatively normal lesson.

But then, I remember a master class, in front of her whole studio.  I once again played for Patrick; she once again sat herself down, showed me what to do.  Nastily.  

I was a student, just as much as Patrick; but Dr. N. felt I should be more accountable, seeing as I was accompanying him.  And she let me know it.  She didn't teach me that day--she obliterated me.

I remember cowering in the library basement afterward, sobbing.

I remember that soon after this, Patrick and I performed for a performance class, for the whole department of music.  I was nervous--who wouldn't be, seeing as I'd never seemed able to play things right for him before?

I didn't yet know that when one is nervous, one's heartbeat picks up, which can significantly effect the tempo one chooses to play in.  I remember that it felt right to me; I remember that Dr. N. chased me down when we were finished, to tell me I'd ruined poor Patrick's moment with my excessive speed.

Is it any surprise that I never really liked her?

And yet, she was a voice of authority.  And, according to her, I was --at the very least-- an unreliable pianist. 

Fast forward, to a rehearsal, today, with some principal cast members.  I find myself questioning my reliability, I assume that I am going to mess them up.  I think ahead to the opera performances, how my piano role will be reduced to just smaller parts within the orchestra, which will feel unfamiliar. Already I see fear in me: I am unreliable, I am not to be trusted with this responsibility.

And then I have a step-back-and-take-a-moment moment:

I am.  The most.  RELIABLE PERSON I KNOW.  

Being reliable is important to me, so no wonder Dr. N.'s tirades felt like attacks against my very core. 

But today, I break her voice, which has hovered over all these years.
I set my mind to:  Free.

I choose to remember: I AM reliable.