I’m sure you’re looking at the title of this post and either thinking “What is a 22-year-old about to teach me about love?” or even “Is he about to namedrop his first love!?”
To answer the first question, I think it’s natural to dismiss love lessons from someone in their 20s, but I feel like I’ve learned quite a bit. To answer the second question, yes, but I’m sure it’s going to disappoint you if you’re expecting anything juicy.
I consider my first deep love on this earth to be with the piano.
Lesson #1 – Don’t Waste the Word “Love”
As a child, I was incredibly interested in playing music. Over the years, I asked my parents for everything from drums to saxophones to guitars to banjos, and the list could go on. Prior to learning the piano, I had received a few instruments as gifts, and I learned to play none of them. So, upon wishing to play the piano, my dad told me that I had to figure that one out. If I could, however, prove to him that I would commit to playing, he told me that he would invest in a piano and even lessons for me. I took the deal, but now I had to hold up my end.
Hold the word “love” close to your chest. When you find love, you don’t want to have wasted such words on a lot of things you liked.
Lesson #2 – Love Takes Compromise
It’s expected to compromise with one’s lover. What I didn’t expect, however, was to have to compromise with third parties. When my dad told me I had to figure out a way to prove to him I was committed, he, of course, already had something in mind: my sister’s electronic keyboard. Although my sister and I have a great relationship now, I cannot say the same for when I was 13 and thought sarcasm and bratty responses were the best way to show my affection. Nonetheless, I was able to strike a deal. In exchange for her electronic keyboard, I couldn’t learn the guitar (because she wanted to be the guitar player in the family), I had to play songs on the piano at her request, and I had to film her cheer and dance routines. This contract lasted, effectively, until she moved away for college.
Love is one of many human experiences that other humans try to govern. Be expected to compromise in order to have it.
Lesson #3 – Do the Hard Stuff First
Needing to make a good case to my dad, I figured one way to do so was by impressing him. To accomplish that, the very first song I taught myself (after Twinkle Twinkle Little Star) was Fur Elise by Beethoven. Admittedly, it’s one of Beethoven’s easier songs, but not one that I would recommend for novices. It took me far longer than maybe it was worth, but at the time, I had the motivation to do it, so I took advantage of that drive. Upon completion and performance for my dad, it was enough to satisfy my end of the deal. That Christmas, I was gifted a piano, and I began taking lessons.
The fire burns hottest when it has the most fuel. Use the motivation that comes with new love to do the hard stuff and get it out of the way.
Lesson #4 – Love Shows Up Daily
When I started taking lessons, I was a middle school student, a member of my school’s choir, on the tennis team, the wrestling team, and I was a Boy Scout. To say I was busy is an accurate description, I think, but I was 13, so it was easily handled. My way of handling these, however, was akin to the hare from Aesop’s Fables. I would choose 2-4 hours for each activity and devote that entire chunk to it, but nothing else through the week unless I was forced. This worked great to meet the requirements, but it stunted my growth. I still remember my first piano teacher, Mrs. Ragland, asking me how long I practiced each week, then telling me in response, “You’re better off playing for ten minutes each day than playing two hours once each week.” My greatest improvements have come from following that advice. The brain works best with consistency, so we should use it to our advantage.
Bursts are okay, but they’re never a replacement for consistency. Love like the tortoise, not the hare.
Lesson #5 – Never Love for Praise
After learning a few things, I naturally wanted to show off my new talents. Every day before my choir class began, students would gather around the piano in the room and play on it while we waited for class to start. Having heard other students play, I knew that Fur Elise was the most complicated piece anyone in the room could play, and I was sure it would impress them. So, one day, I hustled to class so that I could get to the piano first. I then sat down and played the entire piece for the other students. What followed was a brief “Wow,” some silence, and then “KJ, (another student in the class) can you play Coldplay?” I was, of course, devastated, but it was a great lesson to show me that not everyone loves the same thing, and what one doesn’t love, they won’t favor or praise. Fortunately for KJ, he had a much better understanding of music theory and what other students loved than I did. He was able to play chords, which meant he could play any song on the top 100 that other students requested. I decided to turn away from seeking praise for my work.
Praise is a byproduct of others loving the way you love. Attempting to show off our love in exchange for praise will either result in silence or empty compliments.
Of course, I still play the piano. So, my love – and the lessons I’ve learned – haven’t stopped there. The deeper I grew with the piano, the deeper lessons it taught me. Stay tuned if you’re interested in those – I’ll share them in the next post.
“This is My commandment, that you love one another, just as I have loved you.” John 15:12 (NASB)
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