Stop writing? Hmm. Seems like it shouldn't be that way.
Getting older is very different than being younger. I have to make my own decisions. I have to pay my own bills. And, most startlingly (for me), I don't live in a dorm surrounded by people who are always ready to hang out, consume beverages, and watch movies. In fact, even if I did live in said dorm, I wouldn't have time for any of that. Those were days when my friends worried about boys instead of mortality and we questioned professors' motives, not god's. I know we all hit this point, and it's a comfort to know that I'm not hitting it alone.
The last few months have been a sometimes-epic, sometimes-disastrous clash of my work (which I have to do) and my flute (which I want to do). Mostly I have been depressed, and have sometimes [personal revelation alert] spent hours sitting on the foof staring numbly at CNN Health stories about children with cancer.
No joke. Who does that when they're depressed?
So then I get manic, and this month I did a few manically productive things. I applied for a local masterclass with a well-known flute player, and by some miracle and some kindness on the part of the organizers, I was accepted. I committed to a sort of minor orchestral audition (because even a minor one is major for me), and I started learning some pieces that have left gaping holes in my rep list, like the Dutilleux.
So now every day is a small, labored step on this larger path. And music and yoga and anything in life sometimes seem to merge together into this giant journey upon which I'm only allowed to make slow and steady progress. Breakthroughs come with setbacks, and setbacks require resolution. So every day requires a new and different resolution than the day before.
And that's life right now, and sometimes it doesn't look very pretty to me. Luckily, I have a partner who makes every day feel like a reward, and great friends and family to hash it out with when everything feels too gritty. And a season like this makes a great stage for new yoga poses.
Getting older is very different than being younger. I have to make my own decisions. I have to pay my own bills. And, most startlingly (for me), I don't live in a dorm surrounded by people who are always ready to hang out, consume beverages, and watch movies. In fact, even if I did live in said dorm, I wouldn't have time for any of that. Those were days when my friends worried about boys instead of mortality and we questioned professors' motives, not god's. I know we all hit this point, and it's a comfort to know that I'm not hitting it alone.
The last few months have been a sometimes-epic, sometimes-disastrous clash of my work (which I have to do) and my flute (which I want to do). Mostly I have been depressed, and have sometimes [personal revelation alert] spent hours sitting on the foof staring numbly at CNN Health stories about children with cancer.
No joke. Who does that when they're depressed?
So then I get manic, and this month I did a few manically productive things. I applied for a local masterclass with a well-known flute player, and by some miracle and some kindness on the part of the organizers, I was accepted. I committed to a sort of minor orchestral audition (because even a minor one is major for me), and I started learning some pieces that have left gaping holes in my rep list, like the Dutilleux.
So now every day is a small, labored step on this larger path. And music and yoga and anything in life sometimes seem to merge together into this giant journey upon which I'm only allowed to make slow and steady progress. Breakthroughs come with setbacks, and setbacks require resolution. So every day requires a new and different resolution than the day before.
And that's life right now, and sometimes it doesn't look very pretty to me. Luckily, I have a partner who makes every day feel like a reward, and great friends and family to hash it out with when everything feels too gritty. And a season like this makes a great stage for new yoga poses.
Do you find your foof (is that a real word for it?) comfortable? I had one with my ex and I swear I could never find a fully comfortable position on it... but the again, this is coming from someone who appreciates extra-firm pillows and a relatively firm mattress.
ReplyDeleteAs for the rest... getting old is scary, huh? It's interesting to mentally wrestle with the concept that I've started to physically decay... not severely, not yet. But I'm past 25. My brain is no longer growing. I'm coming out of my physical prime. And I haven't yet set the table for graceful aging. Oops. Better get started! It's interesting to see the bad habits of youth transform our adult lives.
We should talk somewhat more often, you and I, as I've always considered us kindred spirits and I would imagine we're struggling with similar concepts as we grow older now. You should e-mail me the best program by which to do so online... it's better than sitting on your foof watching CNN Health. ;)