My violin "lesson" of the week focused on developing a tiger's eye. I'm at the point when I need to make a level of commitment higher than what I've already made. It's not about paying the money for the lessons. It's not about practicing and learning. After my Thursday playing-through-the-song performance my teacher gave me three ways to look at what was missing from my musical repertoire.
Lesson One) teeny, tiny details make a huge difference. If I am putting my fingers down just to put my fingers down, then I'm not making music. If I can't put my fingers exactly where I need to put them the exact time they need to go there with the exact called for bow stroke, then I'm making noise, not music.
My teacher was kind. And explained that he has to look for both growth, which he sees, and the errors that need to be nipped in the bud and removed so they don't flower into something stinky. And speaking of stinky...
Two) is the second illustration, the dirty diaper. He said babies don't understand the implication of a dirty diaper. And adults really don't change dirty diapers because it's fun, they do it for the best interest of the baby. Which takes us to the third illustration which is totally related but unrelated.
Three) Developing the eye of the tiger... Rocky-style. Rocky spent hours and hours running up and down steps to get in shape. He spent hours conditioning himself by beating on slabs of beef in a meat locker. He prepared mentally and let's not forget the musical score.
I need to develop the same drive and focus with my violin, committing to learning how to play this instrument like I wish I could play it, and how I should play it. So it's music, not mish-mash sloppy. So. To the Tiger-Eyed focus I go. But what does that look like? Definitely not running up stairs with my violin held up high over my head. I hope.
Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.