The Slow Tempo of Becoming: What Glenn Gould Reminded Me About Therapy

Lately, my five-year-old has been into Beethoven (this book series is great). We then discovered pianist Glenn Gould’s 1968 recording of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 6. I’ve found myself returning to it frequently (i.e., obsessively listening to it over and over, like the "song is ironing out part of my brain"), specifically to the second movement, the "Scene by the Brook."

In standard hands, this movement is a pleasant, jaunty stroll. But Gould plays it with a defiance. He slows the tempo until the melody nearly breaks. In the ambling, he persuades you to really hear it. 

As a therapist, I recognize that this is exactly what the work of deep change feels like.

We live in a culture of functional therapy. A world of symptoms, solutions, and 12-week protocols where we are told that healing should have a certain cadence; that we should be moving forward at a recognizable clip.

But sometimes, the most profound work happens when the tempo breaks.

To play that slowly, Gould had to be willing to be perceived in his eccentricity. He had to trust that the structure of the music would hold, even if the pace felt unusual to the listener.

In therapy, we often rush to fill the silence because being truly seen in our stuckness feels like exposure. When I sit with a client and we reach that place where the script runs out, we are entering the Gould Frequency. We are slowing the narrative until we can see the individual ripples in the water.

If you feel unsure in your own life right now, consider that you are simply between notes. Gould amplifies that the beauty of the 6th Symphony isn't just in the melody. It’s in the structural integrity that allows the melody to stretch without snapping.

Therapy, at its best, isn't necessarily about fixing the pace of your life. It’s about building a container strong enough to hold you while you play your own song at whatever defiant, slow, jaunty, or awkward tempo your soul requires.

Sometimes, the most healing action we can take is to find the bravery to be seen in our eccentricities and start hanging out by the brook.

Cover Image: Broad Meadow Brook by Liz West. Original public domain image from Wikimedia Commons