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Beyond the keys: the lessons learnt on my grade 8 piano journey

The recent news that I achieved a Distinction in my Grade 8 Trinity College London piano practical exam felt like a quiet affirmation. It wasn’t a sudden burst of glory, but rather a gentle nod to the countless hours spent at the piano, the patient unraveling of complex pieces, and the steady, often imperceptible, progress made along the way. While the certificate is a welcome acknowledgment, what truly resonates are the deeper lessons learned through the long journey with the instrument itself.


I started my piano journey at the age of seven, and what began as a childhood interest gradually evolved into a consistent passion. For anyone who has dedicated themselves to a craft, be it music, art, or any skill, there’s a unique process of immersion and discovery. The piano, for me, has been a constant companion in this journey, revealing insights not just about music, but about the very nature of learning and personal growth.


The Mind’s Quiet Transformation


It’s fascinating to consider what happens in our minds when we engage deeply with music. Playing the piano isn’t just about pressing keys in the right order; it’s a multi-faceted exercise that involves intricate coordination and cognitive processing. You’re simultaneously decoding musical notation, coordinating both hands, maintaining rhythm, and interpreting the emotional landscape of a piece. It’s a subtle yet profound workout for the brain, engaging different areas in a dynamic interplay.


Over the years, as I’ve tackled increasingly challenging pieces, I’ve noticed a quiet shift in my approach to problem-solving, both at the piano and in other areas of my life. The need to break down complex musical passages, to identify patterns, and to practice with deliberate focus, has become a more natural way of thinking. It’s a testament to how any consistent intellectual engagement, even something seemingly as abstract as music, can gently reshape our cognitive habits.


Expressing What Words Cannot


One of the most moving aspects of music, especially classical music, is its ability to communicate without words. A simple melody can evoke a profound sense of sadness, while a vibrant chord progression can fill a room with joy. As a pianist, the role isn’t just to play the notes correctly, but to try and understand the composer’s message and then convey that feeling through the instrument.


This process of interpretation is a deeply personal one. Each piece becomes a canvas where you learn to express nuances through the subtle touch on the keys, the gentle shaping of a phrase, or the careful balance of dynamics. It’s about finding your own voice within the composer’s intentions, allowing the music to speak through you. This ongoing exploration of expression has been a quiet teacher, fostering a greater appreciation for the subtle ways we communicate and connect with the world around us.


Impact on My Life As A Whole


The path to any achievement, including a Grade 8 Distinction, is rarely a straight line. There were days of frustration, when my fingers felt clumsy and progress seemed painstakingly slow. There were moments of doubt, wondering if I was truly capable of mastering a particularly challenging piece. But it was in these moments of gentle struggle that some of the most valuable lessons were learned.


The piano has quietly taught me the importance of perseverance — showing up consistently, even when motivation wanes. It has demonstrated the power of small, incremental improvements, reminding me that significant progress often comes not from grand leaps, but from steady, focused effort over time. And perhaps most importantly, it has reinforced the simple joy that comes from seeing dedication translate into tangible growth.


My Grade 8 distinction is a chapter closed, but the journey of learning and discovery with music continues. It’s a humble reminder that dedication to any craft can lead to unexpected personal growth, enriching not just our skills, but our understanding of ourselves and the world.




 
 
 

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