Could You Play Life by Ear Instead of Someone Else’s Sheet Music?

When Stories Sound Like Myths

I’d already been thinking about myths.

While listening to a talk at our local library, I’d heard the historian mention that during World War II, German prisoners of war had been held at our nearby Redstone Arsenal, known then as Huntsville Arsenal in Huntsville, Alabama.

This was news to me.

photos from U.S. Army supervisor’s widow of POW kitchen crew

Later, in the 1970s and 80s, several of those POW returned to Huntsville to visit the place where they’d once been imprisoned—because, as one said, “life in the Huntsville camp was not a hardship.”

I was surprised again by the story. But it was another, shorter tale that caught my attention the most.

According to the historian, each POW received two cases of beer on their birthday to share with friends. Somehow, a few managed to have multiple “birthdays” each year. One man, he said, aged eight years during his short time here.

Truth or myth? Did the camp wardens really give presents to each POW on his birthday? I’m not sure.

But either way, it’s a touching story.

Someone Else’s Notes Or My Own?

Not long after the library lecture, I joined a Zoom call exploring personal myth-making. The facilitator walked us through a series of prompts, encouraging us to jot down first impressions on the spot.

My own responses weren’t surprising—most revolved around books. Only the week before, I’d been emptying bookshelves to prepare for getting our house painted.

I’d even begun decluttering the piano books that had been piling up for decades in our old piano bench that my dad had made years ago.

One question from the Zoom call caught me totally off guard though:

“Who has been delivering the message of your myth?”

Or rather it was my answer that surprised me.

The obvious answer would have been: Words. Words are almost always my messenger. All my previous answers had revolved around books.

But that’s not what bubbled out. This time, what came out immediately was: Music. Specifically, learning to play the piano by ear (a practice I’ve been toying with the past couple of months).

Then immediately following that answer came this amazing life realization: Why can’t I live my life by ear too? Who says I always have to play from someone else’s sheet music?

The Joy—and Limits—of Playing by the Book

All my life I have only played musical notes written by others. I followed their fingerings, their tempos, their markings for when to get louder or softer.

I have loved it. It’s been fulfilling. I want to continue doing it.

But I also long for more.

I want to be like my late uncle, who could hear a tune on the radio, then sit down and play it without a single sheet of music in sight.

This summer, I decided to see if I could do the same.

It’s slow going—but it’s happening. I can hardly believe it.

A New Myth Begins

At the end of the Zoom call, we were asked to compile our previous answers into a written myth.

My mythical story has turned into this:

Once upon a time, I lived in a piano book every time I sat down to play. I read the notes, followed the score, and trusted the printed instructions to tell me which fingers to use, what pace to keep, how beauty should sound.

But one morning, I wanted to play a song straight from the heart—and I couldn’t. My fingers didn’t know where to go.

In that moment, I realized: I could learn a different way to play—one without notes drawn on paper, without Italian instructions for crescendo and decrescendo, without someone else’s rules.

Now I’m learning a new way of playing. And a new way of living. I’m no longer playing life everyday from someone else’s sheet music. I’m learning to play and live by ear—my own.

Why Myths Matter, Even If They’re Not Fully True

Like the POW beer story, my own myth about music might not yet (or ever) be perfectly true. I’m still learning. Still discovering. Still creating.

And I’m also still playing the piano some with sheet music. Using someone else’s written music is like walking a beautifully cleared path. It’s easy and it works. I don’t have to give up what I already know to add on something new.

But creating my own music instead of only playing hand-me-downs is also bringing me joy. It requires additional learning: chords and rhythms and harmonies. No two sessions are exactly the same. I go off-script when needed. Playing music by ear feels fluid and unpredictable.

I don’t know that playing life by ear will be my new life’s myth for all time—is there ever just one metaphor to perfectly depict life anyway?—but for now, it is a helpful one.

So as long as I hear the music, I will continue to play—and live—by ear.

Do you play a musical instrument? When have you stepped away from the rules and begun to “play by ear” in your own life?

Share in the comments.

Read more lessons from life:

• 5 Keys from a Year of Curiosity
  Curiosity is not just about seeking answers—it’s about fostering compassion, presence, and connection. See all 5 lessons here.
• Do You Have to Earn Your Joy? Guilt in a Box
  The jigsaw puzzle at the beach became an unexpected lesson in permission, playing in the ripples of joy—even before all the work was done.
• That’s Interesting. Tell Me More. {Mantra 4}
  When you get stuck in a conversation, practice saying, “That’s interesting. Tell me more.”

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