to move like a child

The Tennessee Cello Workshop is happening all weekend. Hundreds of cellists have gathered at the Alumni Memorial Building to participate in masterclasses, lectures, ensembles, and recitals. I and most of the UT cello students are required to run errands, show people where to go, arrange chairs, clean....

I helped out with a suzuki class today. Many of the kids were just 5 or 6 years old, and it was fascinating to watch them with their tiny hands holding tiny instruments. They are too young to feel self conscious about making music, so they squirm in their seats and jerk the bow quickly and look around the room as they play. I wish I could recapture the ability to move my body without thinking about how attractive I am to men in the room or how professional I am behaving or how tall I am or how I just want to get out of these tight jeans and wear something more comfortable. I want to move like a child again.... unaware of what I am or am not capable of doing with my body.

My arm is not getting better. I played last night with all my heart. Now I'm suffering.

I ran into a violinist friend today at the workshop. "I had tendonitis and I stopped playing for a year. It was hard, but it seemed to work," she told me. Someone piped in "Go to Europe for a year!" Suddenly, I realized that I could actually drop out of school for a year and do something completely out of the ordinary. So now this fantasy is growing inside of me. I'll run away from Knoxville, find some exotic place to live, learn a foreign language, eat strange food..... The problem is, I would be forever haunted by the sounds of cello reminding me of what I left behind. My mom told me that when she was pregnant with me and playing in the West Virginia Symphony, I would kick hard and fast in the middle of the most intense music. When I was very young, I remember looking up at my mother while she played cello. I stared at her as she played, and she just stared into space as she wrestled with this huge instrument to create sounds that filled up the entire house, and probably the entire neighborhood. I don't think those sounds will ever escape me, and I don't think my desire to create those sounds will ever escape me.