The heart is a mighty instrument

Smythe's Accordion Center in Petaluma, Calif.

I met with a psychic recently. She said that next year, I would meet the love of my life. 

Next door to her brick corner space in downtown Petaluma, Calif., was Smythe’s Accordion Center. I peered in the windows of the shop as we waited for the psychic. She arrived five minutes later, popping out of the passenger side of a sedan with her pho dinner in hand and profuse apologies. 

In the shop next door, there were accordions of all shapes and sizes piled on shelves against the walls all the way to the ceiling. Instruments both unsheathed and in their hard, black cases scattered haphazardly across the shop floor and in the front windows.

The storefront displayed several 1950s-style posters. One read, “IN TUNE WITH FUN.” A crowd of smiling faces looked adoringly at a young man playing the accordion. 

“Tom sure gets around since he learned to play the accordion. He’s always the center of attention,” one man’s thought bubble read. 

A young woman with her hands clasped in delight responded, “He said it was so simple to play. I’m going to start taking lessons.” 

“That’s right,” Tom said. “And there’s nothing like the fun an accordion will give you.” 

I can’t get this accordion shop out of my head since we saw it, regretting that I didn’t walk in, only comforted by the stories my imagination has shaped. A step into another dimension, a portal of sorts, some supernatural connection with the metaphysical happenings next door. 

“Your heart chakra is blocked,” the psychic told me. “When you let go of the bitterness you’re holding onto, you will find your true love.” Whether the bitterness of an intense world, love lost, passed down from generations or something deeper, who knows? I didn’t ask. 

A German named Friedrich Buschmann invented the accordion and coined its first name, Handäoline, inspired by the instrument’s handheld nature - different from its stationary piano counterpart.

“The name that the instrument started with insinuates the many changes and evolutions that it underwent over time,” one website stated.

Much like the heart, accordions are made of valves and bellows, pumping air like the heart pumps blood. They have two sides, sound emerging from both. Versatile and complex instruments, they are handcrafted with intricate parts made of wood, metal, plastic and leather. A romantic contraption, they can at once be melancholic and soulful, next playful and jolly. 

“You have three scars on your heart,” the psychic said. “One scar is from family. One is from friends - you’re making your circle smaller and more meaningful.” She eyed me to see if this resonated. I held my cards tight. Like the third scar that I’ll keep to myself. 

The next day, I drove down the California coast. I found a sandy spot at Dunes Beach on a modest cliff surrounded by jade. I sat with my legs crossed, watching the sun dip into the ocean, thinking about what the psychic said and the accordion shop next door. 

Like the accordion, I found myself in rhythm with the elements. The sound of the waves as the bass, the birds adding melody, the sky, sand, and sun orchestrating. 

My breathing synced with the sea and my mantra as I meditated. The waves crashed on the shore in one breath: “I deserve love.” 

As the waves receded: “I deserve self-love.” 

I sat like this for an hour, watching the clouds change over the mirrored horizon. 

Today, on my 46th birthday, I’m thinking about the psychic and the accordion shop once again. I’m reflecting on the heart and all of its intricacies, fueled by so many parts and people and experiences. The countless compartments open like the Dream Collector’s drawers and the few shut tight, cemented over and iron sealed somewhere along the way without me noticing. 

“Next year, you will meet the love of your life,” she said.

And I think, “What if the love of my life… is me?”