How Much Music Can You Make?

Imagine this. A concert violinist is performing a difficult piece in front of a large audience. Suddenly there is a loud snap that reverberates throughout the auditorium. The audience immediately knows that a string has broken and fully expects the concert to be suspended until another string, or instrument, is brought to the musician.

But instead, the violinist composes herself, closes her eyes and then signals the conductor to begin again. The orchestra resumes where it had left off and now the musician plays the music on the remaining three strings. In her mind she works out new fingering to compensate. A work that few people can play well on a perfect instrument, the violinist with the broken string plays magnificently.

When she finishes, an awesome silence hangs in the room. And then as one, the crowd rises to their feet amidst enthusiastic applause and cheers. The violinist smiles and wipes perspiration from her brow. When silence returns to the great room, she explains why she continued to play in spite of the accident. "You know," she says, still breathless, "sometimes it is the artist's task to find out how much music you can still make with what you have left."

(Though this incident is sometimes purported to have happened to the famous violinist Itzhak Perlman, it cannot be substantiated and is more likely grist in the mill of urban legend. But there is a powerful truth in this story nevertheless.)

We know what the violinist means, don't we? We know about experiencing losses and setbacks. We know what it means to find out how much music we can still make with what we have left.

Maybe you've lived most of your life and you have only a little time remaining. Though most of your life is behind, can you still make music?

Maybe disease or an accident has robbed you of your capacity to work. Though too sick or weak to hold down a job, are there other ways to contribute? Can you still make music?

Perhaps a financial loss has left you impoverished. Without the resources you've enjoyed in the past, can you count up the numerous other resources still available to you? Time? Energy? Skills? Knowledge? Can you still make music?

Or maybe a meaningful relationship has ended and you feel alone in the world. Will you figure out what that loss means in your life, grieve its passing and decide you still have a future? Can you still make music?

There are times when we all experience loss; times when something occurs that changes everything. Like the violinist, will you find the courage to discover just how much music you can still make with what you have left? How much good you can still do? How much joy you can still share?

I'm convinced that the world, more than ever, needs the music only you can make. And if it takes extra courage to keep playing in spite of your loss, many will applaud the effort. And who knows? Others may be inspired to pick up their broken instruments, their broken lives, and begin again.

The all-important question we each must ask is this: Just how much music can I make with what I have left?

– Steve Goodier

SHARE this message on Facebook.

"LIKE US" on Facebook and get a powerful quote every day on your FaceBook page. 

Image by Sam Hakes

The Gift of Music

“Time can bring you down, time can bend your knees.

Time can break your heart, have you begging please.

Beyond the door there's peace I'm sure,

And I know there'll be no more tears in heaven.”

These lyrics were penned in response to tragedy, when guitarist Eric Clapton’s son Conor fell to his death from a New York high-rise window. The music helped him heal.

In 1994 the city of Sarajevo was daily under siege. Mortars and artillery fire instantly transformed once beautiful buildings into rubble. Sarajevo’s citizens were frightened, weary and increasingly despondent. Then, one February day, a mortar shell exploded in the market killing 68 civilians. Many more were wounded and maimed from the blast.

A cellist with the Sarajevo symphony could no longer stand the chaos. He took his cello to the market, sat down amidst the rubble and played a concert. When he finished, he simply took up his instrument and left.

Every day, for 67 days, he came to the market. Every day he played a concert. It was his gift to the city. He did it because he felt his community must find a way to survive, and music can bring hope.

Music is a great gift. When I need to start my day in the right frame of mind, sometimes I’ll sing. Music aligns my thoughts and emotions; my mind and spirit. When I awake in the middle of the night, I go back to sleep best if I sing in my head. Music calms and centers. When I find myself experiencing a moment of happiness, I’ll sometimes sing out loud. (It works best when others are not present.) Music expresses joy like nothing else can.

One of the greatest cellists of all time was Pablo Casals. He exiled himself from his native Spain during the regime of Francisco Franco and became a world citizen and a great humanitarian. Casals passionately desired that the world exist in peace and harmony. He said once that if all the orchestras in the world were to play Beethoven's 9th Symphony simultaneously, then peace would come to the world.

I wonder if that is true. But if not peace, then perhaps joy might come. Or hope. Or healing.

It’s the gift of music.

-- Steve Goodier

freeimage.com/maggie