Their slogan is “Just Do It.” I think that’s the Navy’s motto too, isn’t it? Or is that the Army? I forget. It’s such a good slogan. I am the youngest of five daughters. We were (and are) all larger than life, both physically and energetically. We all were good students, athletes, and musicians. We excelled, each in our different ways. I felt that when I was younger, like a big hand pushing on me, whether pushing me down or forward, I really can’t say. I just know I felt it. Fortunately, I was able to do well in a lot of things, so I concentrated on those. I played basketball, high jumped, sang, played piano and french horn, and studied hard. I didn’t go out much, I had a few friends but really preferred being by myself most of the time. I was shy until I reached college. I developed a sensitivity to looking stupid, or bad, or inept, or not good enough, so I was careful to only do those things that I could do well. That was okay for a while, but if you think about it, it’s really limiting, to NEVER try anything new because you may suck at it. But you never know until you try, and even if you DO try and suck at first, you get better the longer you do it. But I wasn’t even willing to start. Until now.
I thought it would be just fine, not having any expectation about playing cello. I just wanted to do it. Without having the first clue about any of it. I didn’t even know how to rosin a bow. Heck, I didn’t even know how to open the rosin. Hint: you don’t ‘open’ the rosin - it’s supposed to stay attached to the lid. Just so you know. I didn’t know how to tune it, I’d never even held a bow in my life, so when I say this was new, I’m talking TOTALLY new. And I WAS okay, while I was all by myself, and in the beginning. I cut myself slack, was gentle, was supportive. But then I started listening to Yo Yo and Zuill Bailey and Hrant and Elise. I watched their bow hand, so loose and smooth. I watched their left hand expertly travel up and down the strings. They weren’t even LOOKING at the strings! I could feel the gap between good and… me. And ‘me’ wasn’t good enough anymore. I had to be good. Then an interesting thing happened at my next lesson. I totally froze up. I’d been practicing an hour every day yet I scratched and screeched and sounded like a 2 year old. I kept apologizing to Elise, but deep down felt really ashamed. I am a musician, darn it, I’m a trained athlete - I know how to do this. Yet I couldn’t.
Did I give up? No - I will never give up, or as Winston Churchill says, “Never give up. Never. Never. Never. Never.” Actually, I think the real quote is “give in,” but that’s essentially the same thing - I’d be giving in to my rigid need for control and instantaneous perfection. But I caught myself, and I changed my tack. Instead of focusing on outcome, I started focusing on technique and feel. I gave up working my way through songs to going back to bowing open strings. Bowing slowly, carefully, listening to the sound of the bow on the strings. Did it sound beautiful? How did it feel in my body? I let go. I tried to explain some of this to Elise at my lesson today, and she laughed, saying she understood perfectly. I got embarrassed to feel tears in my eyes when I told her I didn’t want her to think I sucked. But then we talked about being good at some things and how scary and frustrating it is when we venture out to try new things we’re not so good at. Then it hit me. Two things I am very good at is writing and basketball (well, WAS good at basketball, but the training stays with you). How did I get to be good? Hours and hours and hours and hours of practice. Solitary, focused practice. Writing a half hour every day for 4 years, making 100 freethrows after every basketball practice. Again and again and again. So I figured it out for me. Cello is no different. It’s muscle memory and feel and comfort. So I started 100 bows on each open string. 100 perfect bows. I did 10 perfect C scales. I can maybe do 100 a day, but 10 is a good start. I don’t know what else I’ll do, but I give up on the preposterous notion of overnight perfection. But I have a sneaking suspicion that if I keep with it, I’ll be a beautiful cellist one day. How do I know that? I can feel it in my body, and my body never lies.
So what does this mean for our everyday life? It means we need to just ‘do’ life, every minute of our day. We need to free ourselves up from preconceived notions and outdated expectations of what we should or shouldn’t be doing, thinking, or feeling. We need to understand ourselves, love ourselves, respect, cherish and support ourselves to be happy just as we are. We’re perfect! Perfect means whole, not without flaws. Flaws hint that there is some theoretical ‘right’ way to do something, and if we aren’t doing it that way, we’re doing it wrong. Maybe we’re just doing it differently, or more slowly. Maybe we should just do whatever we need to do to find wholeness and peace in this moment, letting go of memories of the past or thoughts or fears of the future. After all, Nike was the Messenger god, right? The dude with wings on his shoes? Maybe that’s how we get to fly unhindered through time and space - by just doing it!