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.