Cello in the Corner

I'd been anxious about tonight's rehearsal for probably ten days. The music is hard, and I mean hard. I was anticipating the sectional rehearsal last week - just us cellos, and boy, would they know I didn't know the music. I was sick, though, last Tuesday- as sick as a dog. That was good and bad. Good because I wouldn't be exposed, and bad because I'd be that much more behind in learning the music, as well as missing out on new fingering suggestions and bowings. Also bad, because, well, I was as sick as a dog. Wednesday morning I went to San Diego - no cello practicing down there. I returned midday on Saturday, and I avoided, yes avoided practicing. So, I've been dreaming about my cello and all sorts of disasters attached to it. A little anxiety perhaps? Good to know its common in grieving people, but still not fun. (I even flirted with the thought of bowing out of this concert, but my mom is coming to visit the end of March, and is looking forward to seeing it, so that little plan wouldn't work.)

So tonight I loaded up my little cello and took it down the highway, trying to remember to give myself some positive self-talk. I arranged myself in my chair and acted cool while others were still getting settled. In an act that I'm sure he didn't realize would give me just what I needed, the conductor put his blue eyes right in front of mine and said, "You're going to feel much better after tonight. It's going to all come together - you'll see." What was that? The principal cellist when he saw me said, "This is the hardest music we've played. We're all struggling with it." More grace. One of the women cellists came in late, and sat in front of me, where we'd left two spaces. "Why aren't you sitting up here with me?" she hissed. I moved up later. We played from 9:15 to almost quarter of ten. There were parts that our conductor said, "Well, that's something for the woodshed." Driving home, I felt that familiar groundedness, like magnets had been placed inside me, drawing all of my insides into nice, parallel, elongated and organized fibers. I felt whole again.

I'm going to practice this week. I'll take this music to the woodshed and chop, chop, chop away.