My fingers are racing on the fingerboard. They can hardly keep up with the bow that cruelly pushes on. Almost at the finish line. Just this part. This tricky part. Here goes.
And right at that moment my fingers knot and tangle over each other resulting in yet another failure. The 100th.
It seems to me that practicing the violin is nothing less than the training required for cross-country. The amount of mental and physical energy to endure the torturous repetitions over and over again is more than one might think. One needs to have the perseverance of a perfectionist and the endurance of a marathon runner. After playing a passage for the 101th time, it takes its toll on both my body and mind. Thoughts of failure seep into my mind and I can't help but think myself hopeless. Eventually the other part of me whispers, "Come on, Jane, it's only this part. Just keep going." No, really.
Nearing the end of the day, my fingers are out of breath yearning for oxygen but I carry on. At one point, I get the passage just right. A rush of joy surges through my body. Perfect.
No comments:
Post a Comment