Beautiful Music- Beautiful Heart

"Teaching music is not my main purpose. I want to make good citizens. If a child hears fine music from the day of his birth, and learns to play it himself, he develops sensitivity, discipline and endurance. He gets a beautiful heart."-Dr. Shinichi Suzuki

Last week, Sabrina graduated from Book II in the Suzuki repertoire. It has been six years since Sabrina and I started this journey together. Six years since she vehemently refused to take piano lessons like her sister and shocked me when she announced that she wanted to play the violin.

I have a deep love for the violin, an instrument I played for eight years before abandoning it for the next fifteen. It was Sabrina who encouraged me to pull it out from its home under my bed, to replace a string, and tune it up, so that I could help her as she struggled through "The Twinkle Variations". The violin had been one of my loves, and yet strangely, it had never occurred to me to encourage any of my children to play a string instrument. Sabrina rekindled a flame that had been lying dormant for some time.

To say that this journey has been nothing but lovely moments of mother and daughter exchanging special glances as we make beautiful music together would be an embellishment. I have asked myself time and time again why I allowed my most volatile child to learn one of the most difficult instruments. We have had our "freak outs" as Sabrina calls them. I may or may not have thrown a music stand against the wall at some point. And yet we have persevered together. Learning together.

We've exchanged high fives over difficult passages that have finally become easy. We've argued over the usefulness of a metronome, an object that Sabrina is convinced has only one purpose, and that is to stifle her creativity. We've debated over which are the best of Bach's minuets. I've watched Sabrina name, bond with, outgrow, say farewell to, and eventually replace four violins. Her now permanent full-sized violin, lovingly referred to as Captain Jack Aubrey, will now accompany her to all Suzuki events.

At one point, I thought that perhaps it was just time to be done with these private lessons. When your thirteen year old tells you that she would love violin if it didn't mean having to practice, play any of the Suzuki repertoire, play solos in recitals, or participate in any of these nerve-racking Suzuki events, then you start to think that maybe playing in the school orchestra is all that she really wants to do and that she is now at an age that she can make that decision. After all, I could do without a few of these freak-outs.

So then I tell the thirteen year old that if these private lessons aren't her thing, then let's just be done and focus on orchestra. That thirteen year old proceeds to tell me that she really loves her violin teacher, and she sees the value in her lessons, and can see how important practicing is, and that she in no way wants to quit. So we carry on.

And I watch her progress at her own lovely pace. I watch a girl who used to chuck her bow on the bed after a furious ten minutes with Lightly Row, stand on the stage and glide through Boccherini's Minuet with ease. I watch her vibrato and her bowings, and I remember that I have sat and watched that vibrato transform and that those rich straight bows evolved before my very eyes. I watch her sway with the music as she feels each note, and I remember why I endure the freak-outs and spewing of verbal venom. I endure it so that in the end, this child will love music. Good music. And so that she can create beautiful music. And so that she will have a beautiful heart.

I can see that love of music forming and that beautiful heart maturing. These concerts are a treat. To see a stage packed with beautiful children, with beautiful hearts, playing beautiful music, in perfect unison, gives me great hope for our future. These children will touch lives with more than just their music. I am grateful for patient mentors who help mold these kids when we parents are at our wits end. 

I sat in the audience and just soaked in the Mozart and the Bach. I held my breath through those deep double stops and light trills. I was in heaven. Absolute heaven. I echo the words of my mother, "If there aren't violins in heaven, then I don't want to go there."

It's on to book three. Sabrina already has half of Gavotte under her fingers. I'm sure we have a few freak outs ahead of us, as well as some run-ins with that cursed metronome. But there will be moments of complete elation as I watch this child master works from the masters. I don't even pull my violin out much anymore, as Sabrina is now learning music that is difficult for me to play. I only mess the poor child up anytime I try to "help" by playing along. No, now I just sit and listen, and remind her of her teacher's suggestions. I get plenty of "I know, Mom"'s, but I just ignore them because I know that deep down she really loves who she is becoming because of this whole violin experience, as do I.