Many years ago, when my my younger child, Raf, was a teenager, they asked me to accompany them as they learned Bruch’s Kol Nidre, a composition based on the prayer  sung on the evening of Yom Kippur, the Jewish Day of Atonement. My piano skills at the time were rusty, and what I remember was slogging through it, mostly making up easier versions of what was written in order to keep up. My ability to play by ear is a superpower. Though at times, it can also be a curse, as I’m not always that good at paying attention to the details of the music in front of me.

But the other thing I remember from that time is how much I LOVED this piece of music–how the harmonic progressions drizzled inside my skin and made me shiver. The dynamic markings are mostly piano and pianissimo (whisper soft), yet I wanted to bang them out, chime them like bells from high up on a sunny day. Even when I stumbled, I didn’t care; I just wanted to share the intensity and richness of the sounds. I had to keep reminding myself, this was a piece for violin–or traditionally, cello. The string instruments were the ones that were supposed to shine.

A couple of weeks ago, with Yom Kippur coming up and three years of daily piano practice now back into my fingertips, I decided to try to play this piece again. Maybe, it wouldn’t even seem very hard, now that I was back in my piano groove.

Well, it still is pretty wicked hard. But I’ve been practicing it every day, and it also still makes me shiver. And since there’s no violin player at home any more to shine it forth, I’ve been singing that part out loud as I play. Or sometimes, I play the violin part in my right hand while improvising a one-handed version of the two-handed piano line in my left.

And good news: I can read the notes much more easily than I could all those years ago. And mostly keep up with the long arpeggios without slowing down the tempo.

And more good news: Every day, the piece feels more fluid, an easier ripple off my fingers with fewer and fewer rocks in the way.

I just keep coming back to the hard parts and breaking them down, one measure at time, one note at a time, remembering the words of the Kol Nidre prayer: All vows and oaths you make from this Yom Kippur to next Yom Kippur are nullified. My mistakes are forgiven before I even make them.

And I’ve already accepted that I will not play this piece at the level I’d like by this year’s Yom Kippur, which starts Sunday night. Perhaps by next year. Perhaps not.

Still, it’s been good lesson in perseverance. And self-acceptance. And hope.

I hope you enjoy this version of Kol Nidre, played by cellist Jacqueline Du Pre and pianist Gerald Moore.

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