Or maybe it’s better to say the cello is learning to play me.
It is the instrument that is my body that is the ‘problem’.
Just when I get this thing lined up to my ear and my back straight and my thumb and fingers on the left hand positioned correctly, and my knees holding the cello just so, my right hand forgets entirely what it’s doing and the bow goes up and down instead of sideways, which, trust me, ain’t pretty! Or the right hand gets the bow going just right and the left hand slides down the neck and the screech sound is like nothing you’ve ever heard on the planet and never want to.
Whoever said a 56 year old has any business learning to play the cello anyway?
And I am loving it.
Loving the rare moments when sound turns to music . . . loving that it is my body and not my mind that must do the ‘work’ . . . loving learning . . . loving with new ears the classical music stations on the radio . . . loving the ritual of the care of the instrument . . . loving being a student, knowing that I have much to learn . . . loving the graceful humility of I don’t know how but I can try . . .