In Time

I was a sophomore in college and I had one unfilled credit for my first semester’s load, and saw that I could take one-on-one flute lessons. I’d been playing the flute off and on since I was nine, so I thought, “What the heck?” I then proceeded to skip my first two lessons, which was not the sort of thing I normally did, but unbeknownst to me I was on my way to dropping out of school, so my life was in flux.

I got a call one afternoon from the teacher. He told me I was paying for the lessons so I might as well take them. I was mildly humiliated. Again, I was the sort of young man who did his homework, wrote his papers on time, and was never late for a shift at work. I said I’d been super busy but I’d definitely come to our next lesson, which I did.

He looked older than my parents, was shorter than me by about four inches, with a neat gray beard and surprisingly stubby fingers. He had a gnome-like quality about him, which seemed appropriate for a professional flutist. Because I’d prepared nothing to play for him, he just talked to me about flutes, how they were made, why they produced the sort of sounds they did. His patience with me was humbling. I realized I didn’t really want to take the lessons, but having met him, I couldn’t not. He handed me a Mozart sonata, and said we’d meet again the same time next week.

I practiced only a couple times, which was painfully obvious a few minutes into our lesson. The teacher stopped me and asked how much I worked on the piece and I told him again about how busy I was. He then talked about how when he had to learn how to play the piccolo, he was also quite busy, and so decided that he was only “allowed” to practice it for 30 minutes a day. Maybe I should try that. I said I would.

And I did! It was a neat trick he’d taught me, and one I’ve since passed along to my clients and students who feel they don’t have enough time to write. Sometimes it helps them, sometimes it doesn’t. Time is a funny commodity. I have complained that I’ve had too much and not enough of it. When I was getting ready to quit college, I had the sense that the clock of my life was already ticking down. The clock I was hearing, however, was really a metronome, calling me to find its perfect rhythm.

If you like the ideas and perspectives expressed here, feel free to contact me about individual coaching and group workshops.

Fearless Writing: How to Create Boldly and Write With Confidence.
You can find William at: williamkenower.com