In last week’s post, I shared five lessons that I learned from my first love. A fresh fire of passion laid the groundwork, but as my relationship grew deeper, so did the lessons I learned. If you’re seeing this first and aren’t familiar with my first love or the first five lessons I learned from it, I recommend checking out that post first. You can find it here.
For those who want the rest, we’ll continue the list:
Lesson #6 – Love Privately
Turning from using the piano to seek praise, I turned to using the piano to give praise. I started trying to learn hymns so that I could play at my church. After learning three, I played them for my congregation as soon as they let me. After my debut to the greater public as a piano player, an onslaught of requests and suggestions of songs to learn came forth, and nearly every time a piano was around, someone was asking me to play. It was fun at first, but it slowly turned into me only playing at the request of someone else and only learning songs that someone else wanted me to learn. I began loving for the sake of others instead of loving and sharing it with others. That was exhausting, and I all but wanted to quit playing and erase the fact that I was a piano player from everyone’s minds. Luckily, I didn’t quit, but I did stop playing in public, and only played songs that I actually wanted to. The requests stopped, and the peace came back.
A love completely public will be governed by the public. A tree is shaped by the wind and sunlight, but its roots stay unaltered, hidden in the ground.
Lesson #7 – Love Publicly
As with all things, there’s a balance. Once I stopped playing for others, I isolated my playing. I even would often wait for my family to leave the house before I would practice because I didn’t want anyone to hear me – I wanted a completely private affair. This ended up being damaging for two reasons. First, it didn’t hold me accountable. Anyone could believe I was practicing or not practicing, and they had no way of proving otherwise. Second, it was ultimately selfish. An effect of love should be that it’s so strong that it flows over to third parties. As I neglected my relationship with my piano by stuffing it into a private matter, I was not loving it as I should have been, nor allowing anyone else to partake in the effects of that love. Over time, I began labelling songs as “public” and others as “private.” Any time I play a song for the public, I warn them that if they ask me to play again in a year, I will likely have no new songs to play. Because of this, I’m not asked to play often, but I’m willing to, and that’s the part that’s important.
Love boldly enough that others are aware. It will strengthen your bond and provide much joy to others – people love love.
Lesson #8 – Keep a Reminder
In preparing for college, I received a lot of advice on what to take with me. In almost all of those discussions, I was advised not to take my piano; it takes up too much space, I won’t have time to play it, it’s too hard to transport, etc. I did not heed that advice. As a gift from my mom, I took an electronic keyboard and stand that could be played through headphones, which I thought would be an incredibly important feature for living in a dorm. Admittedly, many people were right in saying that I wouldn’t play it much. What was important, however, was that I still played it. I turned to it in times of stress and in times of worry, and, at least once a month, I would sit down, plug in my headphones, and just spend some time experiencing the unique love of the piano. Even more importantly, on days that I did not play, I walked by and saw my piano each time I left and entered my room. That simple presence reminded me of the love I held for the instrument, the love I held for music, and all the lessons I had learned to that point. It was a strong anchor point in a great time of transition.
Remind yourself of what you love, or you’ll forget that you love it.
Lesson #9 – The Most Important Time to Love is When You Don’t Feel Like It
I’ve encountered many points in time in which I did not consider myself a piano player, as if the relationship I had built just slipped away and was non-existent. I felt as if I would never touch the keys again, and I would never find the joy that once existed there. Eventually, I became uneasy at entertaining the thought of abandoning the work I put in for years, and my hands forgetting the feel of keys. I began a practice that, each time I had one of those thoughts, I had to play an entire song that I already knew and learn a new measure of a song I hadn’t learned yet. This mix between familiarity and progress helped bridge the gap between “it’s not the same” and “I’m wasting my time.” I was able to reminisce on how far I’ve come, then take steps to go further. These periods of doubt and subsequent practices that I forced myself to do resulted in deepening my bond even further.
When love isn’t a feeling, it’s a choice, and when we don’t choose it, we will no longer feel it.
Lesson #10 – There’s No Winner in the Game of Love
I originally titled this “There’s No Loser in the Game of Love,” but I think it’s even more important to recognize that there’s no winner. Love is what can be classified as an infinite game. Finite games are those that have a clear end and a clear desired result: getting a grade on an exam, scoring better than the other team in any sport, etc. Infinite games are the opposite; they have no clear end and no clear desired result. I used to think that once I learned a certain number of songs on the piano or could play a certain piece, then I would be a piano player, but, until then, I was simply learning to play. This often led to the thought that because I was not yet a piano player, I did not have the same responsibility to learn, or that I could just give up. This giving up, however, is the only way to lose in an infinite game. As long as I try, make progress, and move forward, it doesn’t matter if it takes me to my deathbed to finish learning a single song – I’m a piano player. I can never win the infinite game because there is no winner, but by staying in, I win repeatedly in the vast amount of rewards that such love will produce as a byproduct.
Infinite games are never won, but they reward handsomely.
Bonus: Lesson #11 – There’s Always More
I understand that I have a lot more to learn on the piano, and I have a lot more to learn about love. Only by acknowledging this, though, can I begin learning the vast amount that’s left.
In all things, especially those you love, learn more.
Each day, my love requires choosing to keep playing the infinite game, to keep loving even when I don’t feel like it, to keep reminding myself of the lessons learned, to love publically, to love privately, to love whether there’s praise or no praise, to love consistently, to do the hard stuff, and to not take that love lightly. Each day, I am rewarded with a love that has continued for a decade.
“This is My commandment, that you love one another, just as I have loved you.” John 15:12 (NASB)
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