I frequently become like a coiled spring after work. Tension grips my shoulders, my breath turns fast and shallow. Usually, closing my laptop with a thud would be followed by the pop of a cork from a wine bottle, wine poured quickly into a glass, that first mouthful putting a much-needed full stop on the working day.
Then, several months back, I came across an old school recorder belonging to my grown son in the attic. Curious, I blew into it, instantly reminded of the time it was the bane of my life â his daily practice a violent assault on my eardrums, the sharp sounds echoing in my mind long after he slept.
But rather than consigning it to the bin, I took it down, together with a beginnerâs songbook. As a child, I had no musical talent whatsoever. Iâd had recorder lessons at infant school, yet never got to try other instruments.
Googling âhow to play the recorderâ, I viewed many kid-friendly YouTube clips, and printed out a fingering chart. Looking up simple recorder songs, and was thrilled when I managed to knock out a passable Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Yes, it was something your average five-year-old could master before first break, but as a tone deaf, impatient and stressed 51-year-old, it felt like a huge achievement.
My son questioned my actions (and please could I stop), but I kept going â I enjoyed the sensation the recorder gave me. Forgetting notes easily meant I had to concentrate on the sheet of paper in front of me, and painstakingly copy the finger positions. My breath calmed, my attention sharpened, and after nailing that initial shaky melody, I felt euphoric. I had managed to play music.
Today, after some months, I can handle other childrenâs songs and a decent Ode to Joy. Yes, my timing is rubbish, and I still need to write the names of the notes down, but for me, itâs not about being skilled or a âmusicianâ â itâs purely about the joy it provides and how it clears my mind while playing.
I learned that few kids play the recorder today, which was no doubt music to parentsâ ears, but it made me a little sad and nostalgic for my own school days, and my sonâs childhood.
I try to pick up my recorder every evening after work before I do anything else, and in those 20 or so minutes, I am in my own little world. Afterward, I feel refreshed and happy.
My friends think itâs hilarious, yet a therapist friend informed me I was not only lowering my stress levels, but improving my cognitive skills, such as memory and auditory processing, which is invaluable at my time of life. And in terms of my day-to-day wellbeing, itâs truly an ode to joy.
An avid explorer and travel writer with over a decade of experience in documenting remote destinations and outdoor adventures.