Lessons from Learning to Play the Harp

LORREN LEMMONS

Lorren Lemmons lives in Georgia with her Army dentist husband and three children. She is a pediatric oncology nurse turned freelance writer and neighborhood piano teacher who plays with words in the early hours of the morning. When she’s not parenting, writing, or teaching, she loves kayaking, hiking, traveling, and making music.

A few years ago, walking down the hallway at church, I was struck by Cupid’s arrow when I heard angelic music drifting from the chapel. Happily married with three children, the object of my affection wasn’t the musician but the instrument she played: the harp. 

I found myself wishing that I’d had the opportunity to learn how to play when the realization hit me––I still could learn. Sure, I would have to save money and clear space to practice in my life, but if I really wanted to learn how to play the harp, it was possible.

Two years and three economic stimulus checks later, I filled out paperwork to rent a small harp from a music shop. I ran my fingers over the strings and attempted to pick out a melody or two while the salesperson processed my payment. For all my scheming and dreaming, I’d never even touched a harp before that moment. At times I questioned the wisdom in spending a sizable chunk of money on what was essentially a whim.  

However, in the weeks and months since, I’ve recognized my harp as more than just a musical instrument. Learning the harp has become a unique spiritual discipline for me, teaching me lessons in becoming a beginner, creating for creativity's sake, and remembering that life is long. 

Becoming a Beginner

I’m intimately familiar with pianos. After over twenty-five years of playing, my fingers fall easily into the muscle memory of pieces I performed decades ago, and notes on a page are a language I fluently read. While I have a little flock of after-school piano students, I sometimes struggle to explain the music that feels so intuitive to me. Sometimes knowing something well can be a weakness instead of an asset. 

Sitting with my harp on my shoulder, plucking out “Mary Had a Little Lamb” and struggling to hold my hands correctly, I felt like I could understand my students so much better than I had before. I wanted to play the harp, but I was bad at it––and will be for a long time! I’ve had to get comfortable with making mistakes and owning my beginner-ness. Often as adults, we feel like we need to have everything figured out. Even if we feel like our thirteen-year-old selves inside, we try to face the world with a put-together mask on our faces. I can’t fake skill at the harp. I have to sit down and wrestle with it, and that’s ok. 

Are you allowing yourself to be a beginner in your life? Try something new today. 

Creating for Creativity’s Sake

One of my favorite books, Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel, follows a group of musicians and actors through a post-apocalyptic landscape. After a pandemic guts the population (yeah, it cuts a little close to home), this group comes together and performs for survivor outposts. On the side of their caravan, someone has written the words, “Because survival is insufficient.” I think as humans we have a drive to create beautiful things, but often we let that desire be corrupted by the need to be compensated with social media validation or payment. 

I have a special knack for turning things I love into obligations. We live in the era of the side hustle, and it definitely feels good to earn money for doing something you love. But with the harp, I am creating for myself and myself alone. When I sit down with my harp, I’m doing it purely because I want to be there. Nobody’s going to give me a gold star for practicing. The reward is the action itself, the music that gets clearer with each run through of a piece, the way my muscles gradually adjust to the positions needed to play the instrument well.

Find a way to create today––do a coloring page, make a meal, write a story, or sing a song. Do what you love, and don’t worry about what anyone else thinks. 

Learning that Life is Long

I’m in my thirties, and there are many things I still want to accomplish. I haven’t gone to graduate school, or bought a house, or written a book. I haven’t had the chance to travel as widely as I would like. There are dreams I’ve put on hold, and sometimes when I see a list of accomplishments from someone younger than me I feel a little hopeless. I wonder if I’ve missed my chance. 

Starting a new musical instrument as an adult reminds me that it isn’t too late for the dreams I’m still carrying with me. I could have told myself it was silly to learn how to play a new instrument in my thirties. I could have given up when it took time to save enough money to rent a harp. I could let myself get discouraged now, as my practice sessions are cut short by life’s interruptions. 

However, as Billy Joel wisely sang, “Vienna waits for you.” My dreams don’t have to be fulfilled on a timeline. Of course, we can never be certain of how much time we have left, but in general, when I feel discouraged about unfulfilled hopes, I can remember how there are years ahead waiting to be filled with wonderful things. Even if I have to wait for them, good things are coming. 

Do you have a dream you’ve given up on because it’s “too late?” Think about resurrecting it.