I'm listening to the Youtube video the Mason family created when Covid virus cancelled a Royal Albert Hall concert. The music soars, and I'm soaring with it. I notice the absence of trombones in the ensemble because it is “my” instrument. Recently I opened my beginner’s trombone to re-learn everything from embouchure to breath, stance, and key signature. Truly I am starting over, but loving even the struggle to find a reasonable tone not garbled by lip and lung inadequacies. But it’s useless to begin again, I realize, when it's unlikely I’ll be able to take it with me to the retirement home where I plan to be in the next year or so. My practicing sound would make quite a disturbance. And I sigh, but then brighten up. For a moment here I get to do something with no plan for a future, just because I want to and no other profit, reward, or praise. Just because. Imagine that! And I’m listening to a concerto posted on line for the enjoyment of players and listeners—no other motive. Yes, I identify. And then Joni Mitchell’s song rolls at me “For Free," all about a clarinet player on a street corner, and I feel privately in the company of a host of musical spirits—yes, Beethoven included—who can’t not “do” music. I have no delusions of anyone hearing or reading about my attempts in some obscure future. And that makes it even better. I can enjoy the learning unencumbered by hope or sorrow. I feel air filling me and lifting into sound.
I love that you are playing the trombone. Fill your present with song, my friend. I have always wished I played classical violin. But I never began, even when I miht have, as I wanted to play like I had been playing for 20 years and not start out with Twinkle Twinkle. That likely was defeatist thinking. Smiles.
ReplyDeleteThere is beauty in that- to do something just because. That perhaps, is the secret to joy.
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