When I sit down in front of a piano, any of three or four songs will naturally play themselves. One of those songs is "Primavera" by Ludovico Einaudi, which I taught myself to play over a long summer during college. I sat at the piano and played this song over and over, hundreds, if not a thousand times. I don’t have to think twice anymore; my fingers and hands simply take over. It's as if my brain flips a switch and enters a kind of limbo, not actively focused on anything in particular, while my muscles gracefully remember the melody and take over.
We all have instances of encountering muscle memory. Sometimes we don’t even realize we possess it until we revisit a skill we haven’t practiced in years, only to find that it returns as if no time has passed. Riding a bike is the stereotypical example, but there are countless others: tying a tie, playing an instrument, driving a manual car. These acts, once painstakingly learned, become second nature through repetition and familiarity.
Muscle memory isn’t just about physical actions; it can also be symbolic of mental and emotional habits. Just as we can teach our bodies to play a song or shoot a basketball, we can train our minds to respond to challenges with patience or to enter deep focus when required. The more often we reinforce a pattern, physical or mental, the more accessible it becomes. With repetition, responses that once felt clumsy or forced become smooth and intuitive. What once took great effort begins to flow naturally, almost without conscious thought.
Do you have any skills or hobbies that have faded over time? Perhaps you once loved to sew, draw, skate, or play a particular sport. These dormant abilities are often still within us, lying just beneath the surface. Picking them back up can feel like reuniting with an old friend. The moment you re-engage, old connections are reforged, and you're reminded not just of the skill itself but of who you were when you first learned it.
There’s something deeply encouraging about the persistence of muscle memory. It reminds us that our efforts are never wasted, even when skills fade into the background. Whether it's your hands playing an old song or your feet finding rhythm on a dance floor, your body remembers, quietly holding onto what it once knew. So, I encourage you to revisit a lost art of yours. Dust off the guitar case, thread a needle, crack open a new sketchbook. You might be surprised by how naturally it returns and how deeply it reconnects you with a part of yourself that never left.