So a few years ago I took up the cello, with the goal of learning to play well enough that I made someone cry because of the beauty of it. I am a LONG way from there. But occasionally, I actually find tears rolling down my face when there is a particularly harmonious moment.
I have a recital coming up and my teacher chose one of my absolute favorite pieces of music … Gabriel's Oboe. I was so excited to practice and master this piece. However the technicality of the music was much harder than I anticipated and, during my last lesson, I left in tears – not the good kind. I almost uninvited my few friends that I dared to risk to have them witness what happens when cello players get nervous (they get squeeky and out of tune).
So the days following that terrible lesson, I was uber disciplined, trying to tighten all the places that were off – the timing, the pitch, the dynamics.
I think this is the learning process:
YAY!!!
Hmmmmmm.
Sigh.
I suck.
Just kill me now.
No, really, I mean it. I am an embarassment to humanity.
Throw shoulders into the harness, nose to the grindstone. Sweat. Tears. Ache.
It's getting better.
It's not all that bad.
Hey, it might actually be ok.
I am proud of this.
I am proud of ME.
For not giving up
and for making something beautiful.
Not a great recording, but if you want to listen, I am the harmony first, melody second. Disclaimer: we are still BABY cellists. Don't judge too harshly. There are some sour notes in there!
Self-Referential : When you run everything through your own grid. Not open to other's feedback.
If you have ever been around someone like this, you know it is a terrible thing. It makes meaningful relationship almost impossible.
We need the feedback of others to help round us out and show us our blind places. If you cannot hear other's reflections of you, you are doomed to a myopic view of yourself.
And lonliness.
How do you hear others ? Drop the defensiveness. Listen with a learner's heart. A heart that says, 'could this be true of me?'
On another note, people won't be honest with you with the big stuff, until they see that you can handle the little items.
When people cannot hear me, I stop talking. It is as simple as that.
Please inform me if you have the answer to this query.
It seems there are quite a few places in life that are repeated thorns in our flesh. We try and try and try. Only to be blocked, stymied, foiled. Failed. Discouraged.
This evening I exclaimed to my husband about something that finally worked. He asked if really, there were that many things that weren't working. I rattled off an incomplete list of over ten things. He mentioned that he was sorry he asked!
The day started out with the information of recurring cancer in a person I care about. It is aggressive and his remission lasted eighteen months. He has lots to live for, so he will pursue treatment with a hearty vigor; yet I had to wonder, when do you say enough is enough?
I have a tenacious spirit, for sure. For years, I had a photo on my desk of a rock face with a river flowing through it. It said something to the effect of : The water wins, not by strength, but by sheer perseverance. This is me.
But sometimes, I get tired of persisting. It takes a ton of energy and it feels so risky. Like what if, in the end, after all this, I lose anyway?
So the day prior, (which for me is the day of writing) I was hit hard by a terrible attack of sogginess. I am not sure if this is due to a fairly late night (1 am) and early morning (6 am) … but by mid-afternoon, I was Entropic. (Which, is a word I thought I made up and was fairly pleased with me, however, as I looked it up, it already exists, further adding to the data set that says I can't come up with anything new).
Did your mom ever say, "You are as slow as molasses"? I'll bet not, because really, who uses molasses any more these days? My mom says that and she actually uses the stuff to make amazing ginger-snap cookies. But, alas, I digress.
Do you ever feel like cereal that has been left sitting, until it is only a figment of its former self? It looks like it has a shape, but if you touch it, it disintegrates.
I planted tomatoes and peppers a day ago and it is much too hot for Spring … they were all wilty when I last checked them. Lack of turgor pressure.
That's what has happened to me … despite adequate hydration, my will power to accomplish anything is flaccid.
I am emotionally floppy.
With the steadfastness of a dandelion fluff, I barely avoided Netflix and half-heartedly picked some weeds out of the cracks in the driveway (a thankless task), did a load of laundry (thankless), cleaned up several disastrous areas of the house (yes, you can say the "T" word for me) and gave up before I hit the piles of "important papers" that are also thankless.
I wish I had some sort of awesome twist to this … where the brilliance and resolution converge. But, no, sometimes, there is no flavor to life. Like cold oatmeal, it is just bland and pasty. Those are the days you dare yourself to accomplish something – anything, and then you ride out the day, being kind to yourself, because everyone is allowed an unsalted, instant-mashed-potato-kind-of-day here or there.
If I were talk-texting, here is where I would say: smiley face.
We went to a horse-pull the other day; afterward, I spoke with the owner of one of the teams. She told me about how one of the pair just loved to pull – lived to pull – and the other could take it or leave it. She said, "I guess we're going horse shopping this summer. We've done this three years in a row and she just doesn't have the heart for it. But what a nice horse. I'll see if I can train her to drive."
It was such a pleasant surprise, as I had thought she was going to say, "She's gone. We're going to sell her." Feeding a giant draft horse is expensive and quite a commitment. I was impressed that they liked her enough to not only keep her, but find something that brought out her best as well.
It brought to mind how enjoyable it is to experience others in their gifting. And, how wonderful it is to engage in something within the intersection of desire and skill. It's a sweet spot. (pun intended).
I feel that our vocabulary has taken a rather hard hit these days.
When I was a young person, I read voraciously and it was not uncommon for my friends to ask me what I was saying. Didn't do much for my popularity, but definitely helped on my standardized test scores. Intrigingly enough, where I found my sylabic number plummet was with the advent of texting … which, btw, I adore. Txting means I am brief and to the point … however, before multipage texts, when limited to 240 characters, I found myself using progressively smaller words and simpler phrases. I do not tweet, because that would positively be the end of my ever declining and thinning use of interesting words.
For your pleasure, I will leave you with a few delightful, but rarely used words.
Pulchritude
Sacrosanct
Antidiluvian
All three were used in an episode of a show I was watching. Sacrosanct I knew, but I had to look the other two up! : )
