I don’t call myself a musician anymore. You know, I actually don’t really like calling myself anything at all. I find, it’s too limiting.
Giving myself a title makes things easier for other people. They like to know what box I belong in. I’m a blogger. A seller. A coach. A mom. An entrepreneur. A group facilitator. A speaker. A specialist. A dancer. A singer. A hula-hooper. A crazy lady. A new age weirdo. A provocateur. An artist. Someone to know. Someone to avoid. A connector. A whacko. An utter delight. A dreamer. A deep thinker. A distracted person. An excellent friend.
I am all these things. And who knows what the next becoming of me might look like? I certainly do not. I have big wishes, dreams, plans, and goals for sure. And I strive mightily to live in the flow of their unfolding. Yes I aim, I give myself direction – and I work terribly hard at the art of letting go.
This letting go, most recently meant putting my violin up for auction. A violin might sound like a thing to you. To me she was so much more. She was mine for 30 years. I learned to sing through her. She gave me a voice when I had none. I discovered my unique musicality through our expression.
So, why let her go?
Because I am not a violinist anymore. Nor do I really have the desire to be one. I know very well the work being a violinist requires. And it’s not the work of my soul as it once was. My fingers and my hands are not nimble as they once were and I will not spend the hours it takes to coax them back.
Because I have a voice now. She (my violin), was there in the early part of my life when my confidence was not yet built. Between my 16th and 46th year my life has gone through so many sorrowful and delightful permutations that I have found myself, my voice, my calling – and I express myself differently. I write. I speak. I share openly and vulnerably. I connect deeply and thoughtfully with women friends, women’s circles, my children, and my beloved partner. I continue to learn how to do this well, and it is the work of my soul, ever evolving. This is how I spend my days now. Rather than practicing alone, in a room. I prefer to be ~ with people, through words and dance and connection.
Letting go my beautiful violin, so that her talents can be better appreciated by an artist of her caliber, was a huge and heart wrenching decision, one I made over months (probably years). I have cried buckets over this goodbye. Although I reserve the right to procure myself another instrument and make music in new ways in the years to come, she was a huge symbol of the person I once thought I was. And actually, the person many others believed me to be.
I have reinvented myself once again. I move forward.
With gratitude for all that I have been, and all that I am yet to be.