Saturday, November 6, 2010

Coming Out of Early Retirement



First of all, I want to thank everyone for their words of encouragement. I feel the love. Life's not bad at all, and I know it. We all have our moments of self-pity, and it's good to have caring friends who can shake you around a little bit and tell you it'll be okay.

Okay. Back to the point.

My lovely friend Tiffany alerted me about this movie that came out in July. A washed up conductor, trying to make his comeback with the help of an orchestra of misfits. Funny? Probably. True to life? A little bit too much so.

Granted, I'm not at "rock bottom," by any means. I'm not working as a custodian (that was a few summers ago!), and not trying to relive the glory days (mostly because I can't figure out which of my days those were). Nonetheless, there is something missing from my life right now, and I don't know how to work it back in. I used to be immersed in music, day in and day out, practicing until they kicked me out of the building and performing more than I really had time to do. These days, I hardly play at all. I teach a few private lessons every week, and I have my little preschool music classes, but that's about the extent of it.

A few weeks ago, I did something I never, never do: I listened to a recording of my playing. Listening to yourself play is like staring at yourself naked in the mirror: you focus so intently on the faults, and it all ends up disgusting you to the point that you essentially feel like a waste of space. Perhaps now you can see why I never listen to my recordings.

What I heard this time surprised me, though. It wasn't totally terrible. There were, in fact, some really lovely moments! More than anything, though, I remembered. I remembered what it felt like to play that piece at that moment, to feel those emotions so deeply that all I could do was to use my cello to express them. Then, I realized that it's been a really long time since I've had that compulsion to express. My music-making has suffered as a result, and now, I'm pretty well in a stage of dormancy (sorry, Gus).

When I hear a familiar piece on the radio, it's like seeing an old friend again. I'm instantly transported to where I was when I last played it. The feelings all come rushing back--including the frustration from never feeling like I was doing any piece of music justice (part, I believe, of why I haven't been playing much of late). As I reflect on all those memories, though, I realize how much of my life experience has been tied up in music, and that if I let that part of myself go, I also forgo many more experiences.

I need to get back into "fighting shape." I'm flirting with the idea of putting on a recital--the first recital of my life that will be just for me. I would revisit only my very favorite pieces, and play them like I want to play them . . . because I do. The only challenge after that, then, is to work up (and keep up) the motivation and the discipline to follow through. I've let it go because I never felt like I measured up, because I felt that the world would be alright if I didn't play. I've never been the best, but neither have I ever allowed myself to be even as good as I could be, whatever that is.

Maybe it's time to find out.

"The Glory Days?" This was in the BYU Phil, playing Shosty No. 5

6 comments:

  1. I'm so happy for you, Rachel. :) Music is one of the most powerful things in the world.

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  2. I'm not sure if I've officially de-lurked myself, but here I am! I've been reading your blog--hope you don't mind :) But you remind me of me! I recently made a goal to finish learning the Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto and post it on my blog next September. It's a long time to learn one piece, but that's the kind of time I have, you know? But practicing again has been so gratifying. Like you, I've realized that a piece of me was missing. It feels like I've been underwater and am now starting to breathe again. I love it! (And I love not worrying about teachers and classes and juries and what not)

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  3. This is a perfect post. I have wrestled with these same feelings for...well, I don't really want to say how many years, but it's alot!! And I phase in and out of being able to listen to the old recordings, and finding time to practice, and finding places to perform,and feeling bad because I don't have time to practice, and feeling guilty because I don't want to practice. What I've learned is that the seasons of life affect my musical life in ways I don't always anticipate, but I have come to accept that sometimes I can do a lot, like get a Master's Degree or accept a premier invitation, and other times, I can't do as much, or anything at all. Just keep it going somewhere, even if it's just in your heart...sooner or later you'll be able to get it out again. (Wait until the kids come along...it's a WHOLE new world for a music mom!)

    You're wonderful and I LOVE YOU!!!

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  4. Man, I'm totally with you on this. The last few weeks I've been really missing the music. Yet I don't want to be practicing four hours a day either (let's be honest). But I do need to do something with it--for nobody else but me. Part of my problem is when I think about playing more, I feel like I need to somehow connect it with money, and that's when it becomes hard for me and I lose motivation (i.e. thinking I have to practice so I can audition for an orchestra, or go get my doctorate so I can be a professor). I'm excited to hear all about the recital you do. You may just inspire me to do the same. :)

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  5. Ditto ditto ditto to all these Phil alumni thoughts! Music school was a unique place to be for so many years--unlike any other experience. And the productivity and the energy of it can't be replicated beyond itself--at least, I've started to think that. Where else can you find that many happy, crazy, left-brained, insane, and musical Mormons all mingling in the same basement hallway?

    But I totally support the recital thing. That's what I did in the year after graduating--prepared and performed my first (and hopefully not my last) recital while Sam was finishing his masters. It was a lot of work, but it was worth it. But what I realized, at least for me, was that when I was practicing and preparing even my favorite pieces, I had to recognize that I just didn't love practicing--I never have. Ha! I admire those who do. I think I've lost my musical flare.

    And if you find a way to rekindle the passion back into a roaring fire, please fill me in!

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  6. Hey, Rachie. I feel a lot like you. And have been "flirting" with putting on a recital for almost the same reasons you have been. I hope you do it. I hope I do it, too, for that matter. I'm sure Gus will love the extra attention. :)

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