Musical Musings

It was on a Thursday evening. We had just come in from work. I was exhausted, looking forward to collapsing in my room and not moving for a while. Then Heath said “So it’s Thursday, and I think I might go to the open mic in West Bend.” The open mic is at an upscale bar/restaurant that serves a lot of local foods. Right up our alley. Tired as I was, I gave into what Heath has labeled my FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out, which I now realize is responsible for why I did a lot of what I did in college,) and decided to go with them.

The first problem was getting clean. The second problem was putting on Real Person clothes, of which I have few. This almost deterred me from going, but I persisted. Then, while waiting around to go, I pulled out my violin, which I had for some reason brought to Wellspring with me. I started tootling around, toying with the idea of playing something. Why not, I thought, I’ll take my violin with me, scope out the scene, and maybe play if I feel like it.

It is a very nice bar, low lighting, a dollar off microbrews after 9:00, and a smoking ban coming blessedly soon. Every single other performer was playing guitar and singing, so I just had to sign up to shake things up. There was a pretty big crowd there, everyone talking over the performers’ playing.

Then I stood up, and began my first piece, a Bach partita. Dead silence. Apparently they don’t get many classical violinists in West Bend, because there was not a peep from anyone during the whole piece, while they had been talking over everyone else’s music. It was rather intimidating. After my first piece and an embarrassing amount of applause, I played some fiddle tunes and ended with Ashokan Farewell. I was asked to join a band that night. A guy had an Irish fiddle band, and asked if I wanted to play with them. I said maybe, and gave him my email.

It was such an exhilarating evening, even if it did necessitate being up past my farm-induced bedtime. I played violin—private lessons, group lessons, trio, quartet, octet, orchestra, touring group—for eight years, and I enjoyed it. Then I decided it was not what I wanted to spend my life on, and I quit. At Goshen college, there were so many terrifyingly amazing musicians that I would never have dreamed of playing at an open mic, or joining a group. I became convinced that I cannot sing, that music was pretty much in my past, and should be left to those who excel at it. Not to fault any of the wonderful musicians at Goshen—it’s just that they were so good.

But here, well golly gee, music can be fun. I have recaptured the mindset that music can be for the creator as much as the listener. I enjoy practicing, I love performing. I like making music. I don’t need to be great to make music, and I don’t need to be great for people to enjoy listening to me. I believe there is a place for great musicians, and I am very glad that we have them. (Aside: I just went to my best friend’s little sister’s senior violin recital, and she was just incredible. I feel so lucky to know her and to get to hear music like that.) But I also believe there is a place for anyone who wants to play music to play music, and be appreciated.

When I was a real musician (read: “snob”) I did not like this “everyone can be great” attitude. I thought that there were only great musicians, and those who didn’t measure up, well, sorry. They can listen. This is part of the reason I decided not to pursue music, because I knew that I would never measure up. If I was going to play music for a living, I wanted to be one of the best, and I knew I never would be.

College and theater reinforced this idea. Naturally, in a play you need to cast good actors. If not, it will be bad, like many I have seen. Inevitably, in this competitive system, certain people shine, and get all the roles. At Goshen, there were many very accomplished young people in music, art, theater, etc. Everyone knew who there were, and consciously or not admired them. These were the great people, and the rest could not measure up. While I should partly blame this on my own hierarchical view of the world, I do believe that the college atmosphere lends itself to hierarchy and labels, and I labeled myself among the less talented.

I feel like where I am now, both physically (Newburg, WI,) and mentally (practicing charity,) I am finding a more healthy balance between greatness and the appreciation of everyone. I still appreciate a really good performance, but I am also able to feel a little more charitable toward myself and the others who could only ever be labeled “good.” My world is just a little bit smaller now; I no longer have to compare myself to Hillary Hahn every time I open my case. I can enjoy the music I make without being caught up in greatness. My world may be smaller, but my life has expanded because of it.

I love living in the country, because I love having so little going on. Whenever something out of the ordinary happens, I can enjoy it with my full attention, whereas at Goshen I always felt that there was so much happening, I didn’t get a chance to be alone enough to want to do anything. When visitors come to Wellspring, we gather to talk to them. When someone starts a bonfire, it draws us like moths. When Heath plays and sings in the next room, or when his band visits, I really listen, and really enjoy it. These sorts of things were never out of the ordinary in my life before. But now these things—talking, fellowship, and music—can be so much fun and so fulfilling. I can celebrate the ordinary. My life can be so much bigger.

*****

The next week, Heath and I worked up some pieces and played together at the open mic under our new band name, The Rock Pickers, in honor of the rocks we picked from 33 acres of field the day we chose our band name. We played a version of the Suzuki song The Happy Farmer, Amazing Grace (I SANG in PUBLIC) and Turkey in the Straw. This week we will be playing Wagon Wheel and Soldier’s Joy, a fiddle tune. Every night, driving home, I bask in the after-performance glow, grinning from ear to ear, thinking how fun it all is.

And how full life can be when there is so much less to fill it.