This January marks year two of learning, loving and playing the ukulele. A teeny, tiny in-tune Baby Belle and I braved the cold and crossed the city, both bundled in layers. Striking out to discover the music I’ve been missing. Playing music. How could it be anything but fun, its called Playing! Our first level lessons were held at Musidium a beautiful and unique venue with international and historical instruments hanging from, laying on and positioned all around the room. It was inspiring and daunting. Level 2, however brought with it a change of location. Now, we are surrounded by the hardwood and high ceilings of a yoga studio. The sound of our ukes strumming together and our voices in broken harmonies echoed throughout our practise. The only thing I’m worried about is karmic dis-chord;)
For as long as I can remember I have loved music. The harmonies, the feeling of unity, like finally learning to breathe. Growing up my I remember my Momma playing her shiny guitar with a dove swooping gracefully beneath her strum. I remember singing in choirs and weekly music lessons. Music was important. That guitar now sleeps surrounded with dust bunnies and a bone Jilly buried under my childhood bed. My childhood house has a out of tune upright, an abandoned guitar, 2 warped tambourines and a third generation ukulele. When the world gets in the way the first thing to go is the music. When we feel sad there is no singing. We don’t hum a ditty when rushing through our daily lives. The music taps it’s toe, to the rhythm we ignore. Which would explain what I have been missing. In honesty I haven’t been as focused on the Uke as I’d like to be. Its tough to find time between blogging, writing, learning to juggle and everything else I’ve told myself I have to learn, never mind editing, mixing and all the rest of the things that go into being a one-woman-band.
Where do the hours of the day go? After what isn’t nearly a full day’s accomplishment, I find myself distracted. Splitting myself between the many endeavours that have started to crossover, spilling into the time allotted for my next self imposed lesson. Here is where the chips fall. I want the music. Period. Plus Hubby wants to jam. That’s cute, my Hubby wants to jam with his Wifey. If I want to get to the point Hubby wants me, I have to practice, nobody wants to jam with a nincompoop. So, the lessons here are: If music is important to, it needs to become a priority and Tenacity is not an asset until you’ve chosen what to be tenacious about. Also the spaces on the musical staff are F,A,C and E. So, now you know, the music industry has always been based on looks.