Today I had a mother come into the studio to pick up her boys and to ask me if I would take her eldest son back when school started. This eldest son has already taken piano lessons from me for four years, but that was three years ago. He stopped when he got into middle school because he was too busy with other interests to continue with the piano. Soccer, gymnastics, scouting, baseball, guitar lessons, etc. had led him astray from the piano. Now, of course, a boy of eleven or twelve years will have these “temptations” thrown into their pathway and rightly so. All of them are exactly what a boy of this age should be doing. Three years away from the piano can sometimes mean a lot of frustration when trying to get back on course though. Do I want to do it? Should I take him back?

I know some teachers do not take students back if they have quit. It is simply part of their policy and students and parents are aware of it when making the decision to terminate lessons in the first place. If they quit, they won’t get to come back. I totally respect and understand the reasons for this policy. Usually, months before these students actually do quit, they are struggling to keep up with lessons, and typically have a bad attitude because of it as well. When thinking about their return, we can’t help but remember what a pain it was to teach them during those last months, and it makes us reluctant to get back into the same scenario. It is hard to start up again too, especially after a long absence, because a lot has been lost and bad habits might have crept in which can be hard to break.

On the up side though, the student is older now and has more maturity. He has tried other things and has decided the piano is actually something he really wants to do. If his attitude has changed, then positive learning can follow. Of course, he’ll have to realize that he can’t just pick up from where he left off. A lot of backing up and reviewing has got to happen first. Is he willing to do it? Am I willing to do it?

The prodigal returns. I don’t have a fatted calf… maybe Friday night at my favorite steakhouse will do.

The ancient tradition of muses, the gods or goddesses who inspire creativity in the area of art, music, and literature, are sometimes misunderstood as to their actual number. Three was the number given in the earliest record concerning them; however, Homer stated later that they were nine.  Although Homer is a very good source to go to for an actual count of a mythological idea, by today’s standards nine is very much outdated and three is totally out of the question.  So, how many muses are there serving our modern culture?  Have the ancient muses multiplied over the many centuries of their existence, causing an overwhelming number of progenitors to cover all of the much needed creative inspirations of the world, or are the original three being sorely overworked, trying to do it all on their own?

So many questions to muse over. (Couldn’t help it.)  Maybe in our modern times the muses have started to rely on small tangible things that they can simply throw into our everyday lives and occurrences, inspiring us mere mortals through the use of them and cutting down their own extensive work load at the same time. These little muse sightings would be seen only when you are not looking for them.  They would be meant to sneak up on you when you least expect it, inspiring you in a variety of ways.  Your own mood would have to determine whether you were having an inspiration or just another annoyance in the everyday tally of annoyances experienced by mankind.

This would explain a lot of things, including why one overworked muse had just enough time yesterday to visit the grocery store where I shop.  Yes, she could’ve led me to a field of wildflowers dancing in the wind, or a rainbow splashing its muted colors across the sky.  I would’ve even settled for a unusually decadent looking chocolate cake as I wheeled my cart through the bakery section.  But no, this muse had a dark sense of humor.  She led me instead to the only line at checkout that had just one other customer in it.  At first I was amazed at my own good luck, but as the other six, much longer lines kept getting shorter and shorter, I began to curse my bad luck.  Finally, what seemed like many hours and millions of coupons later from the customer in front of me, I was finally checking out my own small cart of groceries, wondering at the same time if Mendelssohn had been grocery shopping just before writing his Opus 53 Number 1.  Perhaps I should use this as inspiration too.  I checked my mood for clues.

Nope, this was definitely just an annoyance.  Besides, overworked or not, you can’t let the muses get their own way every time.