A letter
Dear violin,
This is an odd letter to write, as your reading comprehension scores are abysmal.
This is first an apology. I have made excuses far too long, and think it best to examine why you have remained in your case long enough. Naturally, this is not your fault. It is true that I have dealt with a chronic pain injury all summer, and that it was aggravated by newly discovered dairy allergies. It is also true that my fascia has remained tight because of said dairy allergies and has made it difficult to feel comfortable playing; and it is true that some bad habits have crept into my technique, causing more tension. All of this is true, and a major reason why collaborating with you has been difficult this summer.
But, I have also been avoiding you. It has taken a long time to realize that. I have dealt with the death of three loved ones in a period of six months, chronic pain for years, and recent family emergencies/stresses that have stretched my emotional and stress capacities. However, the thought of losing you, of losing our collaboration with each other and with fellow musicians makes me cry the hardest. Strange as it might seem, our connection is probably the most intimate relationship I have. You require me to use my intellectual abilities to the fullest, and expose a portion of my soul. It also requires trust and a willingness to grow. I’m afraid I have been lacking in both departments.
I was protecting our relationship from my own abusiveness. Ever since I was 12 or so, I have exhibited all the tendencies of a perfectionist. In the last couple of years, it became twisted. I berated myself when I made mistakes, stressing over expectations and becoming frustrated easily. It was more common to experience criticism than joy playing with you. I realize this is a mutilation of my psyche. What we do together is a precious gift from God, and I forgot this, forgot that being able to grow is more important than being perfect.
My inability to trust in myself wrecked my confidence this summer, and I am sorry that I found myself reluctant to approach you. I have missed you so much!
Secondly, I want to renew our relationship. It is ironic that you are made of wood and yet are most forgiving. Not completely, though. I know that our first adventures will be rocky. I promise, however, to throw my hands in the air and say “how fascinating” (a la The Art of Possibility) when I make mistakes, so that I view each error as an opportunity to learn. I also promise to give myself an A and know in advanced exactly what behaviors and practices I adopted to achieve that A.
For too long I have accepted things as failures before they happen. Our future together is one such thing. I don’t know if we will embark on a professional career, but I shouldn’t worry about that now. I do know, however, that I want us to be collaborating the rest of my life (because you will outlive me).
Thank you for waiting for me, despite all my struggles. I am looking forward to this next year together, and hope that we will be playing chamber music by the New Year!
Always,
Pieredae
This is an odd letter to write, as your reading comprehension scores are abysmal.
This is first an apology. I have made excuses far too long, and think it best to examine why you have remained in your case long enough. Naturally, this is not your fault. It is true that I have dealt with a chronic pain injury all summer, and that it was aggravated by newly discovered dairy allergies. It is also true that my fascia has remained tight because of said dairy allergies and has made it difficult to feel comfortable playing; and it is true that some bad habits have crept into my technique, causing more tension. All of this is true, and a major reason why collaborating with you has been difficult this summer.
But, I have also been avoiding you. It has taken a long time to realize that. I have dealt with the death of three loved ones in a period of six months, chronic pain for years, and recent family emergencies/stresses that have stretched my emotional and stress capacities. However, the thought of losing you, of losing our collaboration with each other and with fellow musicians makes me cry the hardest. Strange as it might seem, our connection is probably the most intimate relationship I have. You require me to use my intellectual abilities to the fullest, and expose a portion of my soul. It also requires trust and a willingness to grow. I’m afraid I have been lacking in both departments.
I was protecting our relationship from my own abusiveness. Ever since I was 12 or so, I have exhibited all the tendencies of a perfectionist. In the last couple of years, it became twisted. I berated myself when I made mistakes, stressing over expectations and becoming frustrated easily. It was more common to experience criticism than joy playing with you. I realize this is a mutilation of my psyche. What we do together is a precious gift from God, and I forgot this, forgot that being able to grow is more important than being perfect.
My inability to trust in myself wrecked my confidence this summer, and I am sorry that I found myself reluctant to approach you. I have missed you so much!
Secondly, I want to renew our relationship. It is ironic that you are made of wood and yet are most forgiving. Not completely, though. I know that our first adventures will be rocky. I promise, however, to throw my hands in the air and say “how fascinating” (a la The Art of Possibility) when I make mistakes, so that I view each error as an opportunity to learn. I also promise to give myself an A and know in advanced exactly what behaviors and practices I adopted to achieve that A.
For too long I have accepted things as failures before they happen. Our future together is one such thing. I don’t know if we will embark on a professional career, but I shouldn’t worry about that now. I do know, however, that I want us to be collaborating the rest of my life (because you will outlive me).
Thank you for waiting for me, despite all my struggles. I am looking forward to this next year together, and hope that we will be playing chamber music by the New Year!
Always,
Pieredae