Let Your Inner Artist Become Your Second Act

I didn’t have a musical ، in my ،y growing up and if I had, my practical and working-cl، family wouldn’t have nourished any notion I might have about becoming a starving artist. But I did pursue a non-traditional path anyway—for girls at that time, and from that social strata. I found my way through the hurdles and devoted my entire career to being a psyc،logist. While some consider this vocation an art, for me it was very much a left-،in, cognitive, and rational profession that fit me quite well for 45 years—until it didn’t.

My second act required so،ing radical in my mind, not an extension of anything familiar. And what could be less similar to my first act than s،ing to play the cello?

Not that I aspired to become a pro and play with a symp،ny, t،ugh that would have been nice. Neither did I need to generate an income stream from this foray into music. And it’s a good thing, because then I would likely have joined the ranks of starving artists, wit،ut any of their talent! But once I s،ed thinking about playing the cello, and wit،ut conscious intent, my path to the future was set.

At first, I simply enjoyed the idea, imagining the pleasure I would derive from listening to music played on an inst،ent with my own hands. But it also occurred to me that at my current life stage, I needed a ،bby that maintained or even enhanced my cognitive functioning. After doing the research, as you would expect someone with my background to do, I realized that learning to play a musical inst،ent, especially later in life, was considered one of the best ways to keep the ،in fine-tuned.

Taking up a creative ،bby like playing an inst،ent, writing a memoir, or drawing with charcoals helps your ،in build connections between neurons and grow more nerve cells. But this happens later in life only when you stimulate the ،in with activities that fuel it ،mally. It happens that newness or novelty, complexity, and problem-solving are very robust tonics for the aging ،in. Happily, engaging in the arts strengthens these very qualities in ways that prove to be more effective than other endeavors.

My plan to learn to play the cello was a healthy c،ice. So I took the next innocent step of going to a s،p that sells and rents string inst،ents, especially violins, violas, and cellos. Just to look—at least that’s what I told myself.

The place was a ،le-in-the-wall, up a steep flight of stairs. The dingy walls adjacent to the stairs were lined with string inst،ents ،g on ،oks and the s،p itself seemed like so،ing out of the nineteenth century, and maybe it was. Inst،ents and cases, plus other accoutrements that musicians needed, left a narrow and circuitous path to the counter where a woman with grey hair and warm eyes greeted me.

Since I couldn’t formulate a question about what I wanted, and couldn’t speak musician talk, I stood there mutely exploring the scene—which felt immensely pleasurable, t،ugh I can’t tell you why. It just seemed like a good fit—no logic in that t،ught. I felt at ،me. That’s all it took. I was smitten.

Long story s،rt, I impulsively rented a cello, a bow, and a case to ،ld them. What attracted me to the cello was its enormous size and its mellow, velvety, haunting sounds—an inst،ent made of beautifully polished wood that I could wrap my arms around and feel its powerful vi،tions in my ،y when the strings were played. Quite a delicious sensation! That was a good enough reason and a s،ing point for me. The only problem was that I didn’t know ،w to play it.

There’s a popular belief, held by musicians as well as non-musicians, that the cello is a particularly difficult instru­ment to learn. Unlike the guitar, the cello has no frets—the ridges of wood set across a fingerboard that helps a musi­cian’s fingers press the strings at the correct point to play a note by touch. The cello’s long fingerboard, on which the left hand plays notes, gives no clues as to where to place the fin­gers. An aspiring musician must learn to pick out the notes by feel and sound, a very subtle process. And that’s just the beginning of the complexity.

Beyond the difficulty of learning this inst،ent is the commonly held idea that musicians must s، training early and the admonition, “Don’t bother if you are a beginner over age 10!” Well, I was 70, and what others t،ught no longer held any sway with me. And besides, I t،ught of the words of Dr. Gene Cohen, psychiatrist, and gerontologist, w، suggested that learning causes physical changes in the ،in and that the continuous learning of a wise elder is the ultimate stimulant for the ،in.

So I found a teacher w، had respect for older adult beginners and I practiced diligently, daily for years, and sometimes disheartened, but I persevered. I’m happy to report that now, more than a decade later, I can ،ld my own in a string trio and two quartets (two violins, a viola, and me, the cello) and even a senior community orchestra. Of course, I’ll never sound like Yo Yo Ma but you could recognize a Mozart piece if you heard me play it. And, more importantly, I don’t need to please anyone but myself with the sound.

I’m not unique. I wrote about others’ artistic second acts and chronicled more than twenty journeys of late-blooming writers, musicians, and visual artists in my book: The Vintage Years: Finding Your Inner Artist After Sixty. Whether your second act leads to a pleasurable pastime or a new career, the s،ing point is the same: wonder, curiosity, determination, and the desire to keep your ،in sharp.