03/26/2022
Lynn Murphy Mark
Yesterday I was introduced by NPR to a musician named Ruth Slenczynska. She is a classical pianist, still playing at the age of 97. One of her teachers was Sergei Rachmaninov, who met her when she was 7, took her as a pupil, and told her her fingers were like cooked spaghetti and she had to make them stronger. This advice, after she had been giving performances since she was 4 years old. But who would argue with any wisdom from such a brilliant musical talent? So, she set to work to make her fingers fly firmly across the keys.
Over nine decades she has played for audiences around the world. However, she made something clear about the value of aging. She says, “You don’t become a pianist until you’re past the age of 60 and then you should have something to say that is worthwhile.” I imagine that by then there has been enough joy and sorrow to bolster a soul and allow those experiences to come through in the notes she plays.
She did not have an easy upbringing. Her father was a failed musician who reverted to making his dream come true through his obviously talented daughter. He would beat her with a stick if he was not pleased with her playing. I don’t know much else about her upbringing. I can imagine that making music was a two-edged sword for her – both an escape and a source of real pain.
Her father made sure she was introduced to some accomplished, and some famous, musicians who recognized her genius and taught her what they knew. She took it all in and became a storied artist for the rest of her life. Now, at age 97 she has just released an album called, “My Life in Music”. I am listening to it now. It is a living expression of a life well lived.
I think of Grandma Moses who was a hard working farmer until age 78, when she “retired” from farming. Then she began painting and produced more than 1,500 canvasses. She painted until she died at age 101. Mary Delaney was an artist with paper – she made intricate paper cutouts of plants and flowers starting at age 68. Her works are featured in the British Museum.
No doubt these women were born with talent in their DNA. Yet they lived “ordinary” lives until such time as they were free to become extraordinary creative souls. Their stories make me appreciate my own aging process. It is not simple or easy, but it is a time for reflection, for making new connections and opening new doors to opportunities to flourish.
The other day I wrote about discovering the joy of putting words together formally, now that I am in my 70’s and retired. I’m learning that is really is never too late to open new doors for creative energy to flow through. I think it’s a God thing.