The Piano: Love is the ivory; the white and brown bells, the chiming. There is something so personal and quiet, but also outgoing. The piano is you, your moods and feelings. One can just look upon a Grand and say to themselves “Oh! It is a handsome piece of fittings, is it not?” But it is not a piece of furniture, however much a Steinway Grand may brighten up a Palace. Others may look upon a Grand and say to themselves “Oh! How I ache to play it and how I long to feel those keys. It is another beautiful instrument.” And not only an instrument, but the one you take part in, the one you play a tune with each and every day. When the hands fly and the fingers pounce, it is not just a futile thing to do. You are flying and your fingers are pouncing for the delightful and Heavenly music in your mind to emerge.
Joy, will come out of Johann Sebastian Bach.
Adventure, will come out of Robert Alexander Schumann.
Romance, will come out of Johannes Brahms.
Peace, will come out of Ludwig Van Beethoven.
Excitement, will come out of Johann Friedrich Franz Burgmüller.
Pleasure, will come out of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.
Dreamy, will come out of Franz Liszt.
Witty, will come out of Franz Peter Schubert.
Blissful, will come out of Franz Joseph Haydn.
Thrilling, will come out of George Frideric Handel.
Surprise, will come out of Muzio Clementi.
Feeling, will come out of Sergei Vasilievich Rachmaninoff.
The piano is the your other self, you can play your ideas, you can act your thoughts, you can meditate.
There is also something about the wooden smell, the smell of the keys, and the smell of the pages of music. Put them all together and you will have a piece from Heaven.
You can play springtime – the flowers blooming and the light bugs out – the hyacinths sweet smell and the afternoon walks. You can play summer – the crickets singing and the birds chirping – the mowing of lawns on hot days. You can play autumn, with the falling leaves turning from green to red – marshmallows roasting and apple cider – pumpkin pie and apple cinnamon. You can play a storm outside – the gale and hale blowing frantically – the snow falling down. How does one begin to tell about what they love? I love the piano dearly, it is a precious instrument to me, which I can sooth my thoughts and think of Christ, or get all my anger out. The piano is you, your moods and feelings. It is a piece from Heaven.