I had my violin recital recently.  I have been taking violin lessons from an Asheville Symphony violinist, Karen Pommerich, for about 6 months. She has helped me get better which I really appreciate.

I have fooled around with the violin since college.  For a while I played in a contra dance band(The Unstrung Heroes) and then played some violin and guitar in a couple of rock(?) bands here in Asheville.  I did not get famous.  Then I hit a long dry spell.  Last year at school a teacher mentioned that we had a couple of middle school student classical violin players.  I asked one of them, Garrett S, to stay after school and try a duet with me.  It went pretty well and I was knocked out by how good Garrett was and how beautifully he played the violin.  It was inspiring.  Since then I have been working on classical musicianship as another route to engaging with the violin.  

When I got the email from Karen, my teacher, about the recital about two months ago, I immediately deleted it and hoped she wasn’t serious about me participating, since I am 64 years old and most of her students are school kids.  But at our next lesson, she asked if I was planning on playing at the recital?  I said it will be me and a bunch of school kids right?  She said, yes.  I said, count me in. I am not going to turn down any chances to play.  Period.  I want to get better and you have to seize the opportunities.  

Then I got to suffer two months of anxiety about the recital.  And anxiety truly is not fun.  I’m an Enneagram 6 so I can mainline some performance anxiety.  But there was nothing to do but accept it and work through it.  After all these years of being me, I am kind of used to it and have developed some skills for managing anxiety.  

-meditation helps.  When anxious thoughts occur, count your breath to 10.  

-regular exercise helps.

-try to stay in the present.

-stay busy

Walking around our school where I work, I found encouraging posters promoting Grit, Perseverance, and Confronting your fears.  I heard a student give a talk to the school about 2nd level fun.  That’s the kind of fun that may not be exactly fun in the moment or beforehand, but gives you a warm feeling of contentment when the thing is accomplished.  The violin recital would have to be second level fun for me.  

Performance anxiety is common.  A friend once told me she had a talk to give at a conference and she was so nervous she drove off the road on the way there.  She finally managed to arrive in her damaged car and give the talk.  In high school I had very little performance anxiety, but around the end of college I caught the bug you might say, realizing that heights and public speaking were not so fun anymore.  I have had a few experiences over the years of anxiety serious enough to prevent me from doing something I wanted to do.  

More recently though my anxiety is decreasing generally which is nice. Having the children launched has helped.  But the violin recital brought it all back.

My anxiety peaked a few days before the recital with negative thoughts breaking through several times per day or per hour.  It wasn’t terrible, but definitely not pleasant.  But then about Friday before the Monday recital, I kind of stabilized.  I really wanted to play.  I just thought, Bring it On.  I want to do this.  I’m pretty sure I can do this.  Let’s do this Thing.  I don’t care how Hard it Is.  

Of course, this is all kind of silly in a way, I know.  It’s just a kid’s music recital with some parents and family in the audience.  I will not be executed or fired from my job if I don’t do well.  But reason isn’t very persuasive to my nervous system. I refused to give the recital info to any of my friends who sweetly asked to come because I thought it would make me more nervous. 

Day before the recital I ran 5 miles.  Day of the recital I swam 40 minutes.  I took an extra half pill of my beta blocker(nominally for bp).  I felt pretty cool on the way to the recital at a church in Black Mountain.  

Teacher Karen had us sit in line in the order we would play.  She put me 2nd to last which I didn’t understand since you should put the best last I would think.  And to confound matters, Garrett S, the excellent student violinist, now at Christ School would play just before me.  Clearly we were not performing in any order of ability.  But I let all that go.  I trust Ms. Karen.

Some of the younger kids did go first, beginning with a girl, maybe 11.  She was really good which unnerved me slightly.  Lord are they all this good?  And in fact I would say there was hardly a rank beginner to be heard.  One after another these young people walked to the stage and played their piece, mostly duets with the teacher, with confidence and aplomb.  And considerable skill.  I was inspired by their bravery.  I felt kind of confident but my hands were sweaty. 

Then a boy of about 14 played.  He smiled but he wiped his hands on his pants betraying his own nerves before he played.  He played a devilishly difficult piece, not perfectly, but very impressive.  

One girl had some difficulty remembering a piece she had tried to memorize.  She had to stop and get her music out, but then she did great.  

Then it was Garrett’s turn.  Before he played I had joked with him a little about how was I supposed to follow him?  He walked to the stage.  He would play his piece memorized and without accompaniment.  He took a breath and with a half smile he leaned backward slightly as he raised his instrument.  Garrett plays like a grown up musician.  He owns the moment.  He plays beautifully with beautiful intonation, finding each note fluidly.  He makes it look easy.  You don’t worry when he plays.  You can just relax and enjoy the music.

Then it was me.  I had realized I didn’t really have to look at the audience of about 50.  I just focused on my music and listening to Karen’s part of our Klezmer duet.  I was a little shaky on a few notes, but felt pretty good about it.  Once I realized I was ok, I actually enjoyed playing.  I was a little sorry it was over when we played the last note.

I have been reading Love Me Tender by Constance Debre.  She lives in Paris and writes about her life, leaving her husband and career as an attorney, becoming a lesbian, shaving her head, and getting tattoos.  She loses custody of her young son and regrets that, struggling to maintain the relationship.  But she realizes her new life does not allow her to be a regular mom doing daily child care and child chores.  She doesn’t want to be a mom, exactly.  She explores how simple she can make her life.  Can she do without an apartment and just live in her friend’s homes?  Could she just eat nutrition pills and give up food?  She has one girlfriend after another, rejecting any long term love.  She swims every day.  She writes.  She experiments.  

You might like to read some Constance Debre.