Oscillations
Been discussing music and talents with a friend who appears to have other things on her mind, so I've decided to come here to finger blab for a while since it's obvious I'm really having more of a discussion with myself than with her. I might as well talk to myself for a while instead of bugging her. LOL. (Not to say she's being rude, she's not, it's just that for her she's VERY quiet. Obviously immersed in something else.)
Basically, it began with her trying to help me stretch my vocal chords a bit. She's in a choir or was and has apparently learned MANY more techniques than I have. I discovered with a little vocal exercise that I've gained another octave in my own voice!! I was pleasantly surprised!! Not that that upper octave is particularly comfy, but it's there, and what I once thought of as my upper register is now easily played with. Amazing, the things the voice can do over time.
Anyway, we eventually got into a conversation about talent. I have no musical talent to speak of. This is something I'd been unhappy about for quite some time. Consequently, it is also something I decided was not going to stop me from learning to carry a tune. So, it didn't. Nonetheless, I have come to understand and even accept that I'll never go much farther than learning techniques that enable my voice to sound somewhat presentable.
This eventually led our conversation to writing, which I've been told I /do/ have a talent for. What causes these talents? Is it in the genes? Is it physical? From elementary school I recall being told that I was a natural writer. I never understood what that meant at first but enjoyed the attention from my teachers over it. Then they decided they wanted me to change my style, which elicited a strong reaction from me: No, I'll write what I like to write, thanks.
Now, years later, I continue writing whenever my soul needs to speak, whenever my mind is anxious to be expressed, whenever my feelings need to escape throught the rapid pitter-patter of restless fingers. More people have mentioned how well I write, how much enthusiasm and energy can flow into my words. More people have told me to get myself published. Even my own mother, who once told me that she hated the detail in my writing even though it was good, is now undeniably impressed with my abilities and the skills I've apparently honed throughout the years. She recently asked me if something she wrote was any good! My mother asked me this!! I read her writing, and suddenly I understood how teachers knew I was a good, and natural, writer. In this work she had created, I saw myself in years past, detailing little bits of thoughts here and there, choppy but intact. Her details were more succinct, of course - that is her nature, to be direct. Yet, I found myself absorbed in her words, drawn in like current to a wet conductor, only vaguely aware that some wording could be changed, a comma here, a period there perhaps - little details, nothing that would sacrifice the meaning of her text. My mind wanted more and was disappointed to find nothing beyond her last word. I knew at that very moment from whom I may have inherited this talent from, and I told her so.
So, if talents are inherited, does that mean they're physical? Or does it mean that children glean skills from their parents that they would normally not learn early enough to seem a natural at whatever the art may be? How early in life can a talent be noticed? Do some people really go through life without finding out what their own talents are? And if so, do they have any at all?
These questions, and many others, haunt my mind at times. They stalk me in my sleep and tickle the edge of my consciousness until they wear themselves out in the hopelessness of ever being answered. I will say, however, that I enjoy these thoughts. Without them, my mind would be empty, bored, even dead.
And I'm done rambling for now. LOL. Feeling slightly techie today but more ponderous...
~nvnohi
Basically, it began with her trying to help me stretch my vocal chords a bit. She's in a choir or was and has apparently learned MANY more techniques than I have. I discovered with a little vocal exercise that I've gained another octave in my own voice!! I was pleasantly surprised!! Not that that upper octave is particularly comfy, but it's there, and what I once thought of as my upper register is now easily played with. Amazing, the things the voice can do over time.
Anyway, we eventually got into a conversation about talent. I have no musical talent to speak of. This is something I'd been unhappy about for quite some time. Consequently, it is also something I decided was not going to stop me from learning to carry a tune. So, it didn't. Nonetheless, I have come to understand and even accept that I'll never go much farther than learning techniques that enable my voice to sound somewhat presentable.
This eventually led our conversation to writing, which I've been told I /do/ have a talent for. What causes these talents? Is it in the genes? Is it physical? From elementary school I recall being told that I was a natural writer. I never understood what that meant at first but enjoyed the attention from my teachers over it. Then they decided they wanted me to change my style, which elicited a strong reaction from me: No, I'll write what I like to write, thanks.
Now, years later, I continue writing whenever my soul needs to speak, whenever my mind is anxious to be expressed, whenever my feelings need to escape throught the rapid pitter-patter of restless fingers. More people have mentioned how well I write, how much enthusiasm and energy can flow into my words. More people have told me to get myself published. Even my own mother, who once told me that she hated the detail in my writing even though it was good, is now undeniably impressed with my abilities and the skills I've apparently honed throughout the years. She recently asked me if something she wrote was any good! My mother asked me this!! I read her writing, and suddenly I understood how teachers knew I was a good, and natural, writer. In this work she had created, I saw myself in years past, detailing little bits of thoughts here and there, choppy but intact. Her details were more succinct, of course - that is her nature, to be direct. Yet, I found myself absorbed in her words, drawn in like current to a wet conductor, only vaguely aware that some wording could be changed, a comma here, a period there perhaps - little details, nothing that would sacrifice the meaning of her text. My mind wanted more and was disappointed to find nothing beyond her last word. I knew at that very moment from whom I may have inherited this talent from, and I told her so.
So, if talents are inherited, does that mean they're physical? Or does it mean that children glean skills from their parents that they would normally not learn early enough to seem a natural at whatever the art may be? How early in life can a talent be noticed? Do some people really go through life without finding out what their own talents are? And if so, do they have any at all?
These questions, and many others, haunt my mind at times. They stalk me in my sleep and tickle the edge of my consciousness until they wear themselves out in the hopelessness of ever being answered. I will say, however, that I enjoy these thoughts. Without them, my mind would be empty, bored, even dead.
And I'm done rambling for now. LOL. Feeling slightly techie today but more ponderous...
~nvnohi
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home