I love to play. Practice, even detache strokes on open strings, is a pleasurable experience for me. That is, once I begin. It makes perfect sense. I experience this similar sensation with other activities that I thoroughly enjoy once commenced. But with violin, the pressure, nay resistance against motion is especially pronounced. Perhaps the physics of sound itself creates a force field. Perhaps it is my ego that forms a barrier knowing full well that it will be shattered the moment my bow grazes the strings. I am not certain, but as for analysis, it is only as useful as we make it, and I have some practicing to do.
this account would probably have been different had it begun at the start (or rather, re-start), however...see i began playing violin again after an almost ten year hiatus almost two months ago.
i was dying. despite many other accomplishments and outlets, i longed for my violin. just to hold it and attempt to play again. even if that meant variations of twinkle in every key imaginable.
almost two months later...
i am maddened by this obsession called music. my teacher has taken extreme care to develop the ying to my yang. i catch flies with chopsticks, wax cars, do various seemingly unrelated exercises and though i have seen "karate kid" many a time, i still find myself at times anxious to just fight already.
but at other times, which is slowly becoming most other times, i enjoy feeling the vibrations of the body against my shoulder and watching as tiny adjustments in my right or left hand transform the sound into music. i crave it. constantly.
this blog is about my personal journey with music. facing insecurities about starting over in a time when the age of 30 is considered to be too late and the process is never less than cumbersome and magical.
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