Sometimes wish I were more like my dog, Proton. I don’t envy his bad, ten year old hips, floppy ears, and tendency to drool, all of which may come to me eventually if I live long enough, and I’m certainly glad I don’t have a penchant for smelling and eating brown, fragrant items left on the road by other dogs. But he has an attitude toward life from which I could benefit.
He doesn’t handle steps very well anymore and sometimes trips on the two that lead down to our back yard. This would make me very angry if I were in his place, but he gets up and goes on as if stumbling had been part of his plan all along.
We walk together twice a day. Not as far as we used to, but as far as I think he can handle. He’s getting gray around the muzzle, literally and figuratively, and even though our walks appear to be an effort for him, I think he enjoys them and the vet says it’s important to keep him moving.
He staggers occasionally, but he keeps going with no apparent annoyance or embarrassment. I often have to pull him away from an especially enticing bit of some unidentifiable foul substance, but he takes this in stride as well, not seeming to resent my interference. He’s on to the next attraction with little apparent regret at the missed opportunity.
This is the attitude I need to apply to playing the violin in public (“Playing in public” includes even at my lessons, which involve only my very kind and patient teacher). Mistakes are part of musical life, especially mine, but rather than accepting that they happen and continuing to concentrate on the rest of the piece, I get rattled or annoyed at myself, and that makes it much more likely that I’ll make another. This downhill slide usually ends badly.
If I were more like Proton I could ignore the mistakes of the past, even if they happened only two seconds ago in the last measure. Concentrate on what’s coming up. Go back later and fix whatever problem caused the mistakes, but don’t dwell on them now—there are more screw-up opportunities ahead.
And that’s another thing: I anticipate the hard passages ahead and basically mess them up before I get to them. Apprehension will do that—If I expect to mess up the hard parts then that’s just what I'll do.
I don’t know what Proton’s approach to that one would be, but I’m sure it would be better than mine.
Well, you can be more like him if you follow his wisdom. Approach Violin as Proton approaches the steps he senses that he may / may not, stumble upon. (One never knows unless they take the first step, unencumbered by what may have happened the last go-around). As for me and Otis / his invaluable lessons to me? Go fishing for elusive Trout and bugs that lay beneath the surface (even 'tho you know you'll never catch them). Just wag your tail and move along, always believing "I'll catch 'em one day". Oh. And always, always keep smiling and wagging your tail.
ReplyDeleteElise
That's right. Except for the bug part. I never developed a taste for them
ReplyDeleteThanks for your comment.
Otis, with his innate wisdom, recently led the DEC to his favorite fishing spot where low and behold, they found the declining species of Salamander they were looking for. In fact, they found 5 species alive and more than well. Upon finding eggs they tried to "shoo" Otis away from his spot least he disturb the hatching. He became upset and I said "that will simply not do". It's his spot + he doesn't eat eggs. Trout are his game. Otis was the hero of the day ... I sense he understood this.
ReplyDeleteDo you think Otis can pick the Sweet Million numbers for me?