If you want to study music, I suggest you first get a cat. A senior cat, specifically.
Meet my most demanding—and furriest—colleague: a 19-year-old orange tomcat named Charlie.
He’s entirely unimpressed by my certificates, achievements, or my most passionate renditions of Chopin. For years, he has lived by a plain, elegant philosophy: true contentment isn't found in complexity, but in the pure, honest enjoyment of a single perfect moment—a sunbeam, a gentle stroke, the quiet rhythm of a nap. He finds profundity in the everyday.
This consistent way of simply being has become a quiet commentary on my own musical life – playing, teaching, and composing. I've come to see his perspective as a gentle, ongoing lesson in what matters most.
Lesson 1: The Genius of Simplicity.
Master the “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” before you turn to “Für Elise.”
My cat is too old to chase after virtuoso passages. He finds profound joy in simpler things: a cozy blanket, a good meal, and the pure, unadorned melody of a piece like “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” At first glance, it’s the simplest of tunes. But in that simplicity lies its magic—it’s a blank canvas! In fact, it was a canvas grand enough for Mozart himself, who composed an entire set of dazzling variations on this very theme.
Now, what happens if you play "Twinkle" like a sleepy lullaby? A triumphant march? A mysterious secret whispered in the dark? What if you change the rhythm, or the dynamics, or even a few notes?
When you discover that a six-note tune can hold a universe of expression, a fundamental shift occurs. You stop just playing notes and start making music.
We often treat beginner pieces as hurdles to jump over on our way to the "real" music. But that’s like wanting to write a novel before you’ve learned to love the alphabet. Mastering "Twinkle" isn't about the song itself; it's about building the foundation for everything that follows: ear training, rhythm, touch, and most importantly, imagination and creative confidence.
Lesson 2: You are Never Too Old – or Too Young -- to Charge.
At 19 (a wise elder in human years), Charlie's daily routine is still defined by an insatiable curiosity. He’ll watch a bird in the garden with the focus of a seasoned hunter and track a tiny ant’s journey as if it’s the most gripping documentary. But it doesn't stop there. Despite his age, Charlie still puffs up his chest and bravely – if not always successfully – charges after those birds.
For him, curiosity isn't a passive observation; it's a call to action. This is perhaps his most important lesson. Learning music demands both: the curiosity to listen and wonder, and the courage to try, to make mistakes, and to try again.
I have taught students from ages 8 to 96. I’ve seen the same spark of courageous curiosity in the eyes of a retired doctor as in a third grader. It’s never about when you start; it’s about the joy and courage you find along the way.
Lesson 3: The Most Important Instrument is Your Heart. Tune That First.
My cat is an expert on intention. He knows the profound difference between an absent-minded scratch behind the ears and the focused attention of a gentle grooming session, accompanied by a soft, conversational tone. One is a routine gesture; the other is a language of love to which he responds with a deep, resonant rumble that vibrates with true connection.
This is precisely what to give to your instrument. It’s not just about hitting the right note; it’s about how you hit it. Was it a timid tap? A joyful shout? A thoughtful whisper? When you make music not just with your ears, but with your heart, then the sound you produce will connect with the feeling you wish to express.
So, while Charlie may not be able to count a measure, he has mastered the art of being fully present—the very state from which all creative energy flows.
Your musical journey begins with this curious presence—to find joy in a beautiful sound, to trust the music you hear within, and to share that discovery with others. Keep that sense of wonder alive, and you will find yourself always growing, always creating.
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