I gave my violin away today. It wasn't ok.
If my hand ever starts to work again I know where to find it but in the meantime I look forward to hearing it played.
Unless you are a musician you can't know how hard this is. Can anyone explain the attachment? My music is a part of me, like my voice. The tools are few now since even simple chords are near impossible on the guitar or mandolin. I guess that leaves only my voice. So sad,
I'll sing
But I won't play
And wonder why
My body is walking slowly away from me.
I'll only have stories left. Make them into song? We don't have songs without struggle it seems. My yoke is easy, my burden light. You will find rest He says. Rest in or after struggle?
I'm so sorry, Kim. I know how it feels. We had to sell the piano when we moved here to BC, and I regret that all the time. But even though our instruments are such important things, they are still just things that moth can corrupt or rust destroy. I guess it's time to be digging for deeper treasures, like the joy of listening to someone play and sing, or memories, or children, or birds and their songs.
ReplyDeleteAnd if you can't play chords on the mandolin, then just play one note at a time. That's what the melody is made of! B.B.King said in an interview once that he doesn't know about all those fancy chords, he just plays one note at a time.
Praying for you today.