Slow Down, Dear Heart

I studied piano from age 6 until about 13.

We were all expected to learn piano—and at least one other instrument.

My mother had studied to be an opera singer, and believed everyone should know how to read music. So, we learned.

Mrs. Kunhardt—my piano teacher starting in 5th grade—had a quaint music studio behind her house. My friend Amy and I used to walk there after school, stopping at The Hancock Market to buy penny candy, and as one of us played, the other sat on the couch eating Lemonheads.

And there was a metronome on the piano.

It was a fascinating device to a 10-year-old: An adjustable weight on the end of a reversed pendulum, ticking back and forth at the tempo we were supposed to play: click, click, click.

Sometimes, it worked.

But other times, we moved to our own beat.

I sometimes wish I had a metronome to set a different pace for my life.

Where might you use a metronome with a slower beat?

I once heard of a conductor who led an orchestra to play an entire symphony at a too-slow tempo. His baton controlled the downbeat, his left hand cueing when to crescendo, and both hands bringing the work to a thoughtful close.

When they finished the piece, someone promptly informed the conductor that according to the metronome, they should have been playing faster. In fact, because he had moved at a slower pace, the entire symphony was 15 minutes longer.

Fifteen minutes longer!

Imagine that: He slowed the piece down so much that he extended the life of that symphony for the audience, impacting those in the room for 15 minutes more.

Love that idea—stretching out art, or life, to deepen our experience of it.

But in most cases, we're blitzing along at a faster pace than is sustainable. Scrolling through social media. Setting meetings back to back. Rushing from one activity to another.

I was talking with friends this week about my habit of forgetting things in rental cars or hotel rooms—and that happens always when I'm rushing. I’ve left behind my EZ Pass, iPods, a dress, my vitamins, and a favorite pair of jeans. Some of them I got back.

But some not.

I still have some work to do on this.

I am haunted by the idea that a lower resting heart rate results in a longer life span. Smaller species who have faster heart rates generally have shorter lives. My heart rate is speedy. I'm like a sheep, or a giraffe. But I want to be like an elephant, or a whale.

What is your pace doing to the vibration of the planet? Is it calming it? Slowing it? Or is it feeding a frenetic pace?

Pastor Chuck Mingo says that he walks for one mile every day in silence to help him slow his pace and find his ground. He does silent retreats. It’s part of his soul care.

What is your soul care?

It's worth considering how we might click the metronome down a notch. And today, you don’t even need a physical metronome on your piano. They have metronomes online.

Carlo Maria Giulini, a world-famous conductor who led some of the world’s greatest orchestras, taught others following in his footsteps that “the clarity of a gesture comes from the clarity of your mind.”

Step one: Clear the mind.

Step two: Set a pace you can sustain.

Step three: Move forward with a clear brain and heart.

And then, as Mahatma Gandhi said, “In a gentle way, you can shake the world.”