June 26, 2005 at 10:46 AM

Bowing and low ceiling fans do not mix.

After my most recent lesson, it has become clear to me that I have to remove my ceiling fan from my office, or replace it with one that hugs the ceiling, because it interferes with our bowing.

DM arrives promptly at 9 AM. My husband has her coffee ready in only a minute; he is so supportive, and knows how concerned I am about losing her as my teacher. I can tell she is astonished by his thoughtfulness, but very happy for the coffee. She carries it with her out to the living room, where we have to practice because of the ceiling fan.

I start by telling her that my therapist loves the idea of Alexander Technique. Also, that pizzicato is fine, except for the G string, which requires me to lift my arm too high. As I begin to explain to her about the nerve bundle it is irritating and why, she listens, and then proceeds to tell me a lot more about it, including its name, than my therapist did. Ok, so from now on I do pizzicato on the G string incorrectly until my arm can perform the correct motion.

She is not surprised to hear that one of my chief problems is a general lack of upper-body strength. After all, I have been largely sedentary for months. But I have solved that problem by arranging for sessions with a personal trainer, who also happens to be my therapist's brother. And my husband's kempo sensei.

(The coincidences don't end there, although I didn't mention them to her. My Alexander Technique teacher, who I found on the Internet, uses a dance studio for her lessons. As she gives me directions, I realize it's the studio where my husband and I take ballroom dancing. And our dance instructor there is a good friend of my therapist. And we found each of these people independently. Weird.)

So, we begin. I hold the bow and bounce it like a fishing rod in my hand. Then I hold it and find the point where it will balance in my hand. Now it's time to try to grip it correctly.

First, I point my thumb towards the ceiling, then rotate it and place it in position on the frog - "Like you're placing a dot of paint there with it," DM says. Then, the second finger. Oops, not the pianist's second finger, the VIOLINIST's second finger. Opposite the thumb, second joint, like so. Then the ring finger, like so. Index finger to the first knuckle, like so. Pinky on top, above the back of the frog, like so.

"Excellent," she says, "You must have held a bow in a previous life. But you need to curve your thumb and pinky. If you look down the bow, your hand should look like the curl of a wave." Easier said than done.

Then we begin with some exercises. Pinky pushups. Windshield wiper. Fishing pole. Between spending most of the last 22 years of my life on a computer keyboard, and playing video games, my pinky is pretty strong and the pushups aren't a problem. Even though DM talks about why we are doing all of these, only the pinky pushups make sense right now to me.

"Now, place the bow firmly on the D string, but try to make no sound." Scratch, scritch, ping and it's there. "Draw the bow down." I do, and it makes a wavery, but somewhat recognizable sound. "Now place it on the E string and do the same thing." Screech! Chalk on a blackboard. It's so bad, such an aural clichè, that I laugh uncontrollably.

At this point, I need to rest the shoulder a minute, so we stop for a sip of coffee. (My husband makes great coffee.) In our conversation, she mentions she started taking violin lessons at 7. I ask her if it had been voluntary.

"Oh, yes," she says, smiling, "One day I was watching Captain Kangaroo, and after the introduction was finished, I asked my mom, 'What was that, making the "do do do" sound?" My mom said, 'The violin.' I said, 'I want to do that. I want to play the violin.'"

This is a motivation I understand completely, because I *love* the Captain. I have the intro on iTunes and play it at least once a week. Now I sooooo want to be able to play the "do do do" sound, too.

We go back to it. She shows me how to address the string and slightly turn my wrist as I begin and end the stroke. I practice a few times, with very limited success and lots of wavery noise and screeches. Bowing doesn't hurt, but I can feel that my arm and shoulder are trembling with fatigue. When I tell her I think exhaustion is the biggest problem at the moment, and try to explain what's happening, she listens, then touches the section of my rotator cuff that is experiencing the worst of it, and says, "Of course! I can see it." So she supports the weight of my arm while I try again, and I do better.

My thumb keeps straightening out, as does the pinky. But I get a few reasonable sounds amidst more unpleasant noises. We stop and she shows me some exercises for strengthening my hand and wrist, also my left and right arms, as well as stretches for my hands, neck, arms, and shoulders.

I ask how long I can practice. She says only 10 minutes. Sigh. I say I am finding it easier right now to practice in short sips and maybe I could do a little more if I break it up. Ok, she gives in and says 3 5 minute sessions.

She tells me to keep a practice journal and give her a report the next time she comes. But not to worry about practicing today; the lesson is enough. She puts her coffee cup in the sink, her violin in it's case, and then she's gone.

She doesn't know it, but I am frustrated and discouraged. When I held the bow, there were tiny moments it seemed to float in my hand. It felt ready to begin, as though it were alive, full of eagerness and good will. Like a horse under my reins in my girlhood, it felt as if it would move with me, in joy and pleasure with me, if I held it correctly and signaled the proper command.

But my injury is in the way. And will be for months. I worry, and tell my husband, that my shoulder will never improve enough for me to succeed as a violinist. He reminds me that my therapist was able to measure recent improvement, and give me new exercises. That I'm going to start with the personal trainer and the Alexander Technique. That I'm exhausted. He is right, and, with effort, I regain my perspective.

The restrictions on practice are almost as hard to bear. I can only practice a few minutes at a time, but I can do that more than three times a day. I understand she doesn't want me to burn out, or to injure my arm, but I love practice. On the other hand, she told me during our lesson that she had to take a year off once, because of the effects of over-practice.

I take my violin back into my room and place it and my bow in their case with great reluctance.

Later, after a nap, I sit on my daybed and type on my computer. From time to time, I cast brief, longing glances in the direction of the violin case, as if it were hiding some illicit lover. Finally, after an hour, I set my computer down and step over.

I have practiced enough to bring my violin up onto my shoulder in one easy motion with my left hand. I carefully establish a good stance and my best left hand and arm positions. I wrap my right thumb and fingers around the bow and keep adjusting them over and over, until they fall into place, relax and make the curl of the wave. Then, almost on its own, the bow floats and rises up and sweeps down across the D string. Just once. The note vibrates true in the cool air.

Success. At last. I smile, turn back to the case, and put my violin away for the day.

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June 26, 2005 at 10:46 AM

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