The Well Aging Fiddler: Rejoining the World
“The history of the world is the history not of individuals, but of groups.”
Do you remember the last time you watched an entire episode of Sesame Street? How about the last time you used a telephone booth? Sometimes something is so obvious we don’t notice when it slips away from our lives. For me, the pandemic did a great job of removing a part of my life so effectively I didn’t notice it was missing. I lost a need for community.
Within the restricted parameters of the pandemic, I grew self-sufficient. Since I was separated from others, I grew accustomed to doing just about everything I needed to do by myself. I also grew to like what I was doing. After all, I didn’t have any critics. I didn’t have anyone telling me I had to do this or that. I planned and organized my own days, my own activities, and nobody told me when to begin or end an activity.
I took my violin to the park, played whatever I wished to play for as long as I wished to play, and I grew very satisfied with myself. Of course, I communicated with friends through email or Facebook, but even then, I had complete control over what I said, when I said it, and so forth.
This went on very well for a long time. I was comfortable. I was fine. Happily Ever After, eh?
What I couldn’t see, however, was my lack of challenging myself to stretch, to make mistakes, to leap off the metaphorical edge of the cliff and see what happens. I was succeeding at looking into myself for creative, emotional, and even spiritual inspiration, but I was missing the crucial element of taking risks with others in a creative context.
As the pandemic eased, or more properly, folded itself into the norm of our lives, the world opened. Schools resumed, people socialized with each other, music jams, open mic shows, orchestras, chamber groups, theater groups, dance groups, and so forth reemerged from their homes and resumed their activities.
I found myself wary of such ventures. Indeed, I stepped back even more than when isolation was the norm. Rather than my usual private face-to-face violin lessons, I took online violin lessons sending in videos to my teacher who would return critiques one or two weeks later. I tried going to Bluegrass jams, but I couldn’t get myself to walk through the doors into the venues.
Playing music by myself worked for a while, but the pendulum needed to swing the other way toward communicating with others.
That’s easy to say in hindsight, but at the time I knew something was missing and I couldn’t figure out what was happening. It was that feeling people get when they walk into a room and don’t remember why they did. In this case, I couldn’t resolve that nagging feeling.
Then one morning I sat in my living room, opened a book and read two quotations:
- W. E. B. Du Bois wrote, “The history of the world is the history not of individuals, but of groups.”
- Then Henry James stated, “The best things come, as a general thing, from the talents that are members of a group; every man works better when he has companions working in the same line, and yielding the stimulus of suggestion, comparison, emulation.”
That was it. Other people. I needed to play with others. Every time I worked with others: sharing ideas, collaborating on projects, critiquing each other’s work, sharing successes and flubs, I felt strong and useful. More importantly, I had people I could trust.
All of us need each other. We need to talk, collaborate, argue, debate, share, laugh, and celebrate. We need to define ourselves by what we create openly and freely, rather than through pushing others away.
Sonny Rollins did it. At the height of his success as a jazz musician he stepped back and for two years played alone under the Williamsburg bridge in New York City. He focused on technique, his inner connections with jazz, spirituality, and self-discovery.
What is crucial, however, was that Sonny Rollins didn’t stay under that bridge. He returned to the music world and resumed his career with other musicians. There is a time to step away from the world, and a time to celebrate being part of the community.
The time was overdue for me to step away from just playing by myself in Sellwood Park and find my community. I needed to stand up, get out of my house, find, and join a group of creative individuals. I needed to stop being self-satisfied with my own ideas. I needed to hear other perspectives, other talents, and other ideas. I needed to risk being with others.
I’d like to say it was as simple as showing up, and playing, but unfortunately, this is reality and not Free Willie. It’s a process rather than happily ever after.
It took a couple of false starts to get things going again. Community is more than just hanging out with a group of people and assuming everything will click. If that were true, we’d all be fine no matter where we were and who happened to be in the room at that moment. Having said that, I don’t think there are any rules or guidelines for creating or joining a community. Frankly, it either clicks or it doesn’t. Not to get all Portland, Oregon, West Coast-woohoo about it, but if the vibe ain’t there, it ain’t gonna happen . . .bro.
After two or three tries to find a jam/group/community. I found one. I drove to a small café. I left my instrument in the car and walked in to see if a jam was happening. From experience I’d learned to scope out a location to see if it was something I’d enjoy before committing myself to the experience. I’d go in, sip coffee and listen to the musicians.
I walked into the café, sat on a stool, and ordered some coffee. Six musicians sat or stood in a small circle. They were good. They were playing songs I didn’t know and playing them well. They were good humored, talented, welcoming, and energetic.
When they finished a song, one of them turned to me and smiled, “Did you bring your instrument?”
I nodded, went out to my car, got the instrument, tuned up, and joined the circle. Right from that moment I felt at home. I don’t remember what we played, but I forgot any jitters I may have had about playing and let things happen. I also felt challenged. This was a community where I could grow.
All of us need time for reflection and isolation, but at the same time, we need communities. It isn’t a matter of one over the other. We need the complementary juggling of the two extremes for artistic balance.
Moving forward, when the weather is good, I’ll continue to go to Sellwood Park and play music alone by a picnic table. However, I’m also going to go into cafes, community centers, bars, and other venues, seek out, find, and play with others.
We’re living in a very fractured time in our history, and the knee jerk reaction to these times is to raise the bridges and stay comfortable in our own visions. I did that, and perhaps you did as well. That works up to a point, but it isn’t enough. It is incomplete if we don’t take the risk to work with others. We need contrast, complementary ideas, and empathy. Like it or not, the bottom line is we need each other.
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November 22, 2024 at 10:55 PM · A fine article Michael, and I think almost everybody here will see something of themselves in it, but will also find something new to learn or take away.