It’s Back to the Basics

Cynthia Millen-Pink Cliff Flowers
Life here in Florida is still rough after a contentious Presidential Election. Emotions are high; anger is pervasive, seeping into my spirit. I shudder at the money being spent on political campaigns when I think of the good that can be done with it instead of making gods out of men. I am baffled and upset when local priests push a regional political agenda rather than focusing on the universal mandate to shepherd their people, leading them into the heart of God.
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While my husband and I still live in the States, I can only survive spiritually when I simply go back to the basics of my faith and back to the activities which bring me inner peace- music, and gardening.

My Beginnings

My life pretty much started seated at a piano. I came from a musical family.

I’m three years old again. Sitting on my mom’s lap, trying awfully hard to push down those danged piano keys. Little fingers collapsing with the effort and a small hand crashing down in a discord.

Oh, how I wished my legs were longer so I could push down that one pedal and make the sounds go on and on.

It would take some time before that became a possibility and then I would discover how sparingly I am supposed to use that sostenuto pedal.

I was a music major but walked away from the piano at age twenty or so. Then, just short of my 77th birthday, I announced I want to play again. Not faint of heart, me, oh no.

Back to Piano Basics

And so, it came to be that the love of my life gifted me with a shiny black C3 Grand Yamaha piano, and I fell in love. Once again, I was three years old, only now my feet could reach those dang pedals.

This love affair with an inanimate object ruled my life. Hours went by as I refined a bar or two of music; struggled over a problematic passage, slowed down, wound up the wretched metronome; rolled back my shoulders, and started again.

And that metronome! It’s been in my life for as long as I can remember, and that’s a long time – at least 65 years. The paint is peeling, the metal parts rusting, but it still tick-tocks as loudly as ever.

One day, it dawned on me. I’ll never get back to the level of proficiency as a pianist at 20. I tire and lose concentration. My fingers don’t move as fast as I struggle to master a difficult piece. I finally do but I don’t retain it. Leave it alone for two days, and when I get back, it’s as if I’m starting all over again.

I decide to stop serious studying. Play popular music instead. Play when I feel like it. No specific hours set aside for practice.

I make up my mind to write my coach a long letter explaining these things, but there’s time for one last lesson before I can do it.

It’s by Zoom, of course, which I dislike. But in this case, I’m grateful as she’s in Texas and I’m in Florida. If not for Zoom, I wouldn’t have these lessons at all.

I see her lovely face, hear her voice, and I fall apart. I whine. I tell her I feel I’m going nowhere. I can’t master certain things. Worse of all, I don’t retain what I’ve learnt.

She listens, this woman who is a master mentor and voice and piano coach of many. She allows me to empty myself.

Then she talks. She explains – calms me down. She acknowledges I have the age card to deal with and the many years since I’ve studied and practiced at this level. She tells me I’m too hard on myself and yes, I will never be a twenty-year-old pianist again.

We analyze the Mozart Fantasia I’m studying. Compare it to Chopin. I’m back in another world, one that I’ve missed so much without realizing just how much.

It’s back to basics.

My Life Has Gone Full Circle

Christmas is coming.

I’m one of those fortunate enough to be taught the basics of Christianity from an early age. The Baby Jesus, the Three Wise Men, Mary, and Joseph, and the Nativity Scene. What is right and what is wrong.

The lessons widened. I was raised in the Dutch Reformed Church and am grateful for a sound teaching in Protestantism. It lay the groundwork for the knowledge I brought with me to my Catholic faith.

I converted twenty-six years ago, embraced Catholicism and all it entails. My church is where I go to escape the crazy world we live in, the Adoration Chapel my sanctuary.

Enter 2020

I can’t decide which was worse. Covid-19 or the pre-election hysteria. The combination reduced me to see-sawing between hysterical laughter, “not so righteous” anger (who am I to judge, after all), moments of calm discussion (only with my husband and best friend), and spells of introspection, trying to make sense of the whole mess.

And hours and hours of prayer. Begging. Crying. Explaining why I want what I want. (As if that mattered!) I always end with, “Be it Your will.”

With an underlying lung condition, I can’t escape to my church and my sanctuary. I flee to my piano. I don’t get tired when practicing. Hours go by and I force myself to stop, get up, stretch, do something else but it prevents me from dwelling on these times we live in. The only thing that matters are those black and white keys and the sheets of music.

A Crisis

Then one day, back from a shopping trip I could not avoid, I would pass my church. The thought came –

It’s Monday afternoon; there would be few if any people. The church is vast (think 1,500 people or so capacity); it’s sanitized daily; I desperately need my church. Online mass is so impersonal.

I slow down. Turn on my directional signal. Then, as I nudge the nose of my car into the parking lot entrance, there it is- a huge sign, not to be missed.

“Vote Pro-Life”

I brake, then continue. Park and sit, deciding whether I will go in or not.

The election was over weeks ago. Also, I’m a firm believer in the separation of church and state.

Finally, I get out. Put on a mask, walk over, and open the doors. I walk right up to near the pulpit and kneel.

The peace I’m searching for eludes me. It’s just a big building. I tiptoe to the Adoration Chapel. The doors are wide open, two women with rosaries.

I kneel. This is my Sanctuary. This is where everything should be right but it’s not.

I give up and leave, straight home. We have canals flowing by on two sides of our house. When at my desk or the piano, I only need to look up to see rippling water. And then there is my garden.

This little world is my other sanctuary.

I wrestle with my thoughts. Once again talking it over with my husband (a non-believer in organized religion) and my best friend, a Cradle Catholic.

I can’t go back there right now, not with the political climate in this country. My husband and I talk about moving away from this promised Land of the Free. “Canada is too cold”, says my husband. He’s partial to Portugal. I refuse to learn another language. My liking goes to either the Dordogne region which I love or Nouvelle-Aquitaine, which I know fairly well. Hopefully, my French will revive if surrounded by French natives.

However, while I still live in the States, where can I go to pray?

Back to the Basics

I’m a child again in a safe place where my world consisted of Bible stories and the Ten Commandments. I didn’t know then about different denominations, authorities, powers, dominions, and principalities. I realize I need to return to that sheltered place for a while where faith is simple and pure.

It’s back to basics but I’ve added the Rosary.

I’ve gone full circle.

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7 thoughts on “It’s Back to the Basics”

  1. As a lifelong Catholic, you have the courage to say what, I believe, a lot of us are thinking. Yes, 2020 is and was a very difficult year. Lots of angst, anger, confusion, disappointment, etc but leaving is not the answer. This is still a blessed country with lots of good and deeply committed people working to make things better. There is a better life out there and it’s up to us to spread the Good News by our actions and commitment to others.

  2. Political feels are raw because the election was stolen by criminal abortionists. We are fighting against the agents of Satan. Make no mistake. I’m curious when Catholics lament the temporal fight for justice and Truth, Defeat at the hands of godless Leftist Marxists is not a virtue. May God instill in his people a fighting spirit once more. Pax.

  3. Pingback: THVRSDAY EDITION – Big Pulpit

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