Moving forward in life is sometimes a shaky experience, like crossing a swaying bridge. The daredevil in me would love to see the views from this bridge but I know my knuckles would be white gripping the side ropes. Vertigo makes my head swim, my heart race and the blood pound through my veins!
What is courage?
Courage is defined as ‘mental or moral strength to venture, persevere, and withstand danger, fear, or difficulty’ (Merriam Webster). Imagine then, venturing along a narrow mountainside path with no option but to move forward.
I once walked around this mountainside in Northern Thailand. The only measure of proof is this photo, taken with my back firmly against the wall of the mountain while tentatively reaching for my camera which was slung over my shoulder With sections sporting little space to the edge of the narrow path with its rickety fence, it was a case of one sideways step after another.
My husband was way ahead of me with his best mate, believing I had given up and gone back to the start. He knew how heights affected me.
However, I always prefer to go forward, so retracing my steps, once I was on my own, wasn’t an option.
I turned my back to the rocky wall and inched my way along, glancing out and up, not down, at least not until I pretended I had a bit of courage.
One step at a time. That’s how I managed. Past piles of pickets that had fallen off. Who had managed to collect them and put them in a wider recess? Some brave soul, no doubt.
I know I took a long time to get to the look-out. Once there, I paused a good while, but as you might imagine, I’d seen enough of tree tops and soon began my journey down the mountain side. Not nearly as daunting.
Window after window of opportunity for photos slowed me down this time!
I was surprised when I met our hosts’ Thai helper who’d been sent to find me! I was already heading down the safe, wide stairs to the car park when I met him. Admittedly it was dusk by then! My one-man search party smiled and headed back to the car park with me.
Yes, I’d made it!
Eyes closed with relief! I’d made it back down!
I know we each have our challenges to face; some are harsh realities about how one approaches life. .
Courage comes in all shapes and sizes. This was so real for me – just like in real life. Hey! It was real life!
When is courage called for?
Instances I find myself needing courage range from mountain treks, tree-tops walks to just getting up in the morning after the loss of a loved one. I could list a dozen or more; here are just a few –
Driving around a foreign country – on the other side of the road!
…and more!
I’ll talk about some of the above in future posts.
Starting at the base of the mountain, one climbs upwards. A metaphor for life itself. It is always ‘rather nice’ to journey with others. Sometimes though, the path is one we travel alone, even for a short while.
“But as long as your courage holds out you may as well go right ahead making a fool of yourself. All brave men are fools.” — Robert Frost 17 Apr. 1915, in Selected Letters of Robert Frost, 1964
There’s not a lot in common between eggs and pianos. Except for the one that used to grace my lounge room. If the hens on my Nanna’s farm in the early 1900’s hadn’t been so productive there’d have been no eggs to sell, no money saved and logically, yes, you’ve got it. No piano.
Our Beale piano had pride of place in our front room.
My grandmother, Nora Farrall played the piano and sung beautifully. She was joined by her husband, Harold, in recitals with family and friends. It was pioneering days in the wheatbelt and coming together for a Sunday afternoon, or an evening was a popular form of entertainment.
The piano (right-hand image, far right corner) in its first home, Greenacres, my grandparent’s home in the central wheat-belt, Western Australia.
Where did our piano come from?
The piano was most likely purchased in the1920’s or early 1930’s. It is a Beale standard piano, not full height, suited to sitting rooms. Beale Pianos was founded by Octavius Charles Beale in Annandale, NSW in 1893 and established a reputation in making quality pianos in Australia. I believe the company still stands today. It rose to become the largest piano manufacturer in the British Empire, producing around 95,000 pianos from 1893 to 1975.
Beale undertook making all parts of the piano. The piano in our family has a clear identity stamp on the wooden cabinet, a manufacturing number clearly visible on the frame as well as the distinctive Beale Tuning System stamp.
Typically, Beale pianos were overstrung, which I understand to be an asset, along with high quality playing mechanisms. The hammers and the felts are in great condition. Nothing has ever needed replacing. Its original keys are fully intact and the piano maintains good pitch despite its infrequent tunings.
A quick peak inside also reveals its solid iron frames. Over the years this made it a mover’s nightmare in weight, but no doubt has helped it survive its original journey from place of manufacture in Sydney, to Perth and subsequently to my grandparent’s home on their family farm, known as Greenacres, six miles out of Ardath.
The original Beale Piano Tuning System was designed specifically for the Australian climate
Of particular note is the unique the Beale Tuning system that Beale patented which was designed to withstand the dry, hot conditions in Australia. At one point, I imagine piano tuners were not easily come by in the wheatbelt and it dropped a semitone across the whole keyboard. Careful re-tuning over the years has it back to where it should be, a testimony to the quality of the piano.
Despite Beale initiating the use of wood to suit Australian conditions, extreme heat and dry summers in the wheat belt took its toll on the French polished wood, adding an aged, crackled character to its finish. According to Leaver and Son, pianos of this vintage are worth anywhere from $500-$5000 depending on condition. In my opinion, our piano is worth much more than its dollar value, being the holder of treasured family memories.
A peak inside the piano.
Moving around
Over the years the piano survived several moves: From its home in Ardath it may have accompanied my grandparent’s to their retirement home in Bruce Rock, though it was most likely given to my mother at that point in time. That meant it ended up in the lounge room on my parent’s farm, Kenberdale, located just within the boundary of the Narembeen shire. From there, when I married and settled into my first home in Perth’s hills in Kelmscott, the piano moved in with us. My two daughters learned to play it in our Adair St home, and continued ad hoc lessons when we moved several times in the city. For a brief stint between 2008 and 2010 it resided with one of my daughters while I lived in London.
It is most fortunate, that over the many moves between homes over a period of more than fifty years, it was only one during move that it the removalists almost dropped it! Thankfully, no damage apart from a scrape or two happened – all part of the piano’s character now.
While it had its place in my home in the Perth hills, I occasionally gave private tuition to family beginners and played the pieces I’d learnt many years ago. It briefly shared my younger daughter’s home while I travelled overseas, and now it has moved to the inner suburban home of my older daughter so her three children can learn if they choose to. It is my hope that in the future it will remain in the family one way or another.
Learning to play
In the sitting room at Greenacres where my grandmother played and gave recitals she also taught her daughter, Dorothy, my aunt to play. Dorothy, taught her sister, my mother. My mother has no recollection of being taught outside of the home, but she recalls a music teacher in her school days who taught from the Ardath Hall. So my mother might have also learnt from her. When the piano came into my parent’s household I rarely heard my mother play.
One of my mother’s favourites. She’d ask me to play this one while I practiced. The sheet music is so fragile now that the brown paper glued around the edge is falling away and the internal pages easily tear! I still play it though
Learning to play the piano was a skill I acquired rather than a natural talent. To me, learning to read music was like learning maths. All equations and timing and counting. It is also like reading words on a page. Once learnt it stays. Well, it has done so for me anyway.
I was sent to the local convent where my piano playing skills were accompanied by raps across the knuckles with a short stick! Lessons in moral conduct were also thrust upon me at me to redeem my soul and to provide sharp reminders to avoid errors in playing. Little booklets, I can visualize one of them now, about how to be a good Catholic girl were thrust upon me. I kept them hidden in my thin, brown music case away from my parents. I knew they would disapprove, being staunch Protestants.
In the process of learning to play the metrical beat of my metronome tick-tocked beats as though I had donned the costume of Tick-Tock in Return to Oz. The unforgiving regularity of keeping time is a tough one for me so I play for my own pleasure and if I miss a beat because I’m out of practice, it is of little consequence!
When I began studies in senior high school I entertained the cooks in the dining hall of my Merredin boarding house but once in the city, studying at university and teachers college, it became all too hard to keep up playing. Many years later, though, both daughters learned to play the piano and I taught the rudiments of music to my granddaughter. Curiously I find that with so many different methodologies today, it is barely necessary to have a teacher when the internet can serve the same purpose!
Magic does happen! I passed all my Pianoforte and theory exams with good grades. I practiced an hour or so every day – scales and set pieces and the occasional non-compulsory piece. It was more than a subject to learn. It made my heart sing. It still does.
My grandmother’s piano stool overflows with numerous old editions of sheet music.
An ear for music
The only thing I ever truly wished for while tinkling the keys was an ear that naturally heard sounds and matched pitch! It forever eludes me, though I know what sounds right and how to create music from a composition. It’s always a delight to hear those who are blessed with running their fingers up and down a keyboard creating music as though it were the gods themselves showing off!
Playing an instrument is a delight in the way it brings me right into the moment. It’s a great way to focus and centre self. I have old sheets of music stacked high, usually on top of the piano and overflowing from my great grandmother’s piano stool that came from Oldham in England when she immigrated with her family in 1910. Not naturally musical, I’m ever delighted to have had the opportunity to learn an instrument and know my grandmother’s piano will remain in the family for the next generation and beyond. It is part of our family heritage.
My granddaughter loved playing. After a few personal lessons she taught herself using online lessons.
For me, ‘knowing someone’ is to have met them in person. Yet, in this world of ‘everything online’ I need to know who my target audience is – and discover you – you are here in an online meeting place, reading my post. I have begun my journey into writing, once again. And I welcome my readers.
Looking for further inspiration and clarity about kick-starting my writing, I ask a friend or two about creating a fresh online presence and appreciate their insights which spur me on.
One is a writer with an established readership. She is a brilliant writer: raw, vulnerable, authentic. She has published her story. I take inspiration from her over regular meetups. We keep each other on our toes with our writing. Messages fly back and forth with a measure of excitement – ‘I’ve posted my blog’… ‘I’ve written 500 words (or more)’ and we smile. I sense that while she is well established in her writing, (Google ranks her website and blog highly for her consistency), encouragement is always of mutual benefit. Sometimes I think it swings in my favour, yet she is always there. Meet Maureen here.
Making new friends later in life
Now, true to my “about me” page, there-in lies one of life’s diamonds. She is always there. I know I can count on my friend to encourage me with my writing and with my life in general. It takes courage and guts to reach out and make new friends later in life. And we are both doing just that. Our 15 year age difference works a treat. Wisdom from someone who has lived through some of the obstacles I am facing in life and in writing, while somehow, whatever I am doing is encouragement for my dear friend.
Discovering New Friends
Equally beneficial is another friend who is navigating the challenging field of writing, self-publishing and is looking to traditional publishing for her novel. With her wonderful inspirational quotes and following on social media, frequent catch up chats in person and online are mutually supportive. We met later in life as well. Our friendship began when we both attended the same writer’s retreat. At the time, she owned a store in my local community and I popped in one day, to arrange travel plans to attend the retreat. From tentative beginnings to raw authenticity, there’s not much we don’t talk about. Again there’s 15 years difference in our ages. This time I am the older person. You can meet Michelle here.
Family
Family offers unique opportunities for growth, wisdom and inspiration. With encouragement from my brother who is two years younger, I know I have an external source to my intended audience. Someone who is simply there as a voice of encouragement. Invaluable in itself. We explore every topic under the sun, and find much more in common than our mutual heritage.
Key people appear in one’s life when they are needed. It might seem that they are stumbled across. I believe we’re given the right people at the right time for whatever we need. It’s just a matter of listening, learning and heeding – doing that which is intended to carry us forward on our path in order to nurture who we truly are, both individually and collectively.
I’ve made a fresh new start. The day draws to a close. Karratha, WA
