I often feel like a coiled spring once the workday ends. My shoulders grow tense, my breath turns fast and shallow. Typically, closing my laptop with a thud would be followed by 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.
Later, a few months ago, I came across an old school recorder belonging to my grown son in the attic. I idly blew into it, instantly reminded of the time when it drove me crazy – his daily practice a violent assault on my eardrums, the sharp sounds echoing in my mind hours after he had gone to bed.
But rather than consigning it to the bin, I brought it downstairs, together with a beginner’s songbook. Growing up, 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 viewed many kid-friendly YouTube clips, and got a fingering guide on paper. I searched “easiest recorder tunes”, 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 persevered – I liked the way the recorder made me feel. Forgetting notes easily forced me to focus on the music sheet, and painstakingly copy the finger positions. My breath calmed, my attention sharpened, and once I’d mastered that first faltering tune, I was overjoyed. I had managed to play music.
Now, after some months, I can “play” other nursery rhymes and a decent Ode to Joy. Yes, my timing is rubbish, and I still need to write the names of the notes down, but for me, it’s not about being skilled or a “musician” – it is simply about the pleasure it brings and how it clears my mind while playing.
I read that only one in six children learn to play the recorder now, which was no doubt music to parents’ ears, yet it made me wistful for my school years, and my son’s childhood.
I try to pick up my recorder every evening after work as my first activity, and during those 20 minutes, I escape into my own realm. Afterward, I feel refreshed and happy.
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, such as memory and auditory processing, which is precious at my age. For daily wellness, it’s a real “ode to joy” indeed.
A passionate writer and traveler sharing insights on personal growth and lifestyle from a UK perspective.
