I have always wanted to play an instrument.
Well, let me say that when I go to the symphony, or I see people playing instruments with ease and proficiency, I feel…I feel like I want that in my life. I want to play the cello, I want to be on stage when the lights dim, I want to carry a case around, I want…
In all my wanting, in all my envy, I never say that I love the feel of a cello or the vibration of the bow. I never close my eyes in the audience and dream of practicing until my hands hurt, or my back aches. I love to listen to music, I wonder what it must be like to create such brilliance, but I don’t really want to play an instrument.
It’s not a passion, it doesn’t call to me, because it if did, I would be playing in an orchestra or a subway. If I wanted to play, needed to play, I would not rest until that need was fulfilled.
I’m in love with the idea of playing an instrument. The idea of things is usually what appeals to people and yet the reality is something quite different. The reality, the late nights, the struggle, the inch by inch achievements are born of passion, not want.
Yesterday a woman told me she thought it was so wonderful that I was a writer. She asked the usual questions with awe and sparkle and then said, “I’ve always wanted to be a writer. It must be so exciting.” I smiled and then in the next breath she talked about how she’s played the cello since she was in high school.
Passion always wins.
My thoughts from the laundry room. Click Off the Light.