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I am lost in the music.

There’s no distinction between the essence of myself and what I’m playing. I sink in and out of melancholy tunes, the music playing the mood of my soul.

My bow draws effortlessly over the strings; throbbing, pulsing, rising, falling. My heart beats; my lungs draw in breath and let it out.

My fingers know their positions—I’m not even conscious.

The tune ends.

It’s time for some swing music, jigs, and reels.

I stand to my feet, playing one tune after another. They all evade perfection and I am frustrated. I draw my bow harshly across the strings in a discordant drone. I play up and down the E string, making it sound like a whiny baby. I begin another tune; faster and faster I play.

I will win, my fiddle shall not defeat me; I can master this.

A string of wrong notes yet again—there is no winning.

I mix up the swing tune, changing the style and rhythm of the music.

I am creative—I can do this. But I can’t.

The music won’t bend to my will. I sigh and sit down again.

I give myself to God and begin once more; this time I am playing for Him.

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