Syncopated Simplicity
"Whoever desires to love life and see good days, let him keep his tongue from evil and his lips from speaking deceit...let him seek peace and pursue it. For the eyes of the Lord are toward the righteous, and His ears are open to their prayer...." 1 Peter 3:10,12
Syncopation often "gets to me." The delicate complexity strains my musical ear, and one can usually find me befuddled off in the corner somewhere when I'm asked to bring order to such a piece. For musicians, this lovely word either brings a certain joy or a certain dread. Unfortunately, I generally fall in the latter category. Learning a syncopated piece of music requires intentionality and concentration, focus and technicality. The notes remain in a set time or meter, but the rhythms change unexpectedly and often require grace and skill to follow. I rarely want to take the time to learn the piece slowly, savoring each variation, breaking apart each melody.
Syncopation: an artful, orderly dissension.
This past week, I found myself drowning (slightly dramatic--yes) in five syncopated pieces to play for worship on Sunday morning. By Saturday, I still hadn't taken the time to sit down and work through the kinks, and I kept finding myself trying to add extra "little graces" before it was time. I was irritated, stressed, and a bit caught off-guard by how overwhelmed I seemed to be. Regardless of the fact that I dislike syncopation, piano is still my first love, and I was discouraged by how tousled I felt. I knew there was more hiding beneath the surface of a "neatly packaged problem with syncopation," but I decided to ignore the urge for introspection, prayed, and pushed through a broken practicing time.
Sunday morning dawned bright and beautiful. Perspective was brighter, too, as I was surrounded by the cheery smiles of others on the team. Though, I must admit, I was still in denial of my stress from the night before.
As we played for the worship service, it hit me: my current season of life almost reflected a syncopated piece of music--delicate, complex, over-thought, and maybe a bit discouraging. As I played through the music, I realized what my fingers were doing: simplifying. My brain wanted to add a pretty little melody in the right hand, dramatic accents in the left, but my fingers merely chorded to the complex rhythm. I truly couldn't do anything more, and it certainly wouldn't have been helpful to try (incessant fumbling is generally avoided! ;)).
In those moments, I began to see the heart of my Father. He wanted my simplicity in what felt like chaos. He wanted my singular captivation in an environment of over-stimulation; He wanted my focus on one thing: Himself.
He hasn't been asking for my "extra graces," as if more dimension and depth is needed or required. The elements of life are bringing their own delicate complexity, and I must refrain from the worry of particular sounds, emotions, and explanations. Perhaps some day I will be able to add my analytical, technical, visionary perspective to life again, but for now, I think He wants my simplicity. It's been a long road to come to such an elementary conclusion, and I am ashamed to say that I've been trying to over-complicate life for far too long (okay, most of my life--but especially this summer!).
In my surrender, He chooses the music I live to. For now, that music has artful dissension, but oh-so-orderly, since it has been chosen by the Master Orchestrator Himself.
Syncopation often "gets to me." The delicate complexity strains my musical ear, and one can usually find me befuddled off in the corner somewhere when I'm asked to bring order to such a piece. For musicians, this lovely word either brings a certain joy or a certain dread. Unfortunately, I generally fall in the latter category. Learning a syncopated piece of music requires intentionality and concentration, focus and technicality. The notes remain in a set time or meter, but the rhythms change unexpectedly and often require grace and skill to follow. I rarely want to take the time to learn the piece slowly, savoring each variation, breaking apart each melody.
Syncopation: an artful, orderly dissension.
This past week, I found myself drowning (slightly dramatic--yes) in five syncopated pieces to play for worship on Sunday morning. By Saturday, I still hadn't taken the time to sit down and work through the kinks, and I kept finding myself trying to add extra "little graces" before it was time. I was irritated, stressed, and a bit caught off-guard by how overwhelmed I seemed to be. Regardless of the fact that I dislike syncopation, piano is still my first love, and I was discouraged by how tousled I felt. I knew there was more hiding beneath the surface of a "neatly packaged problem with syncopation," but I decided to ignore the urge for introspection, prayed, and pushed through a broken practicing time.
Sunday morning dawned bright and beautiful. Perspective was brighter, too, as I was surrounded by the cheery smiles of others on the team. Though, I must admit, I was still in denial of my stress from the night before.
As we played for the worship service, it hit me: my current season of life almost reflected a syncopated piece of music--delicate, complex, over-thought, and maybe a bit discouraging. As I played through the music, I realized what my fingers were doing: simplifying. My brain wanted to add a pretty little melody in the right hand, dramatic accents in the left, but my fingers merely chorded to the complex rhythm. I truly couldn't do anything more, and it certainly wouldn't have been helpful to try (incessant fumbling is generally avoided! ;)).
In those moments, I began to see the heart of my Father. He wanted my simplicity in what felt like chaos. He wanted my singular captivation in an environment of over-stimulation; He wanted my focus on one thing: Himself.
He hasn't been asking for my "extra graces," as if more dimension and depth is needed or required. The elements of life are bringing their own delicate complexity, and I must refrain from the worry of particular sounds, emotions, and explanations. Perhaps some day I will be able to add my analytical, technical, visionary perspective to life again, but for now, I think He wants my simplicity. It's been a long road to come to such an elementary conclusion, and I am ashamed to say that I've been trying to over-complicate life for far too long (okay, most of my life--but especially this summer!).
In my surrender, He chooses the music I live to. For now, that music has artful dissension, but oh-so-orderly, since it has been chosen by the Master Orchestrator Himself.
Once again your words brought encouragement to my heart. Thanks LeAnna!
ReplyDeleteI'm so thankful, Noelle! I've been thinking about you! I think it's due time we had tea together on your front porch. ;)
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