This morning, he and I fell into a discussion about a friend of mine who is considering selling her favorite instrument. He admitted that over the years, he's come to romanticize certain defining objects for a person, and feels that instruments are one of the most tangible examples of this. They add connection to the past, expression for the voice, comfort for the soul, definition to a life, and dignity to a devotion. Nobody understands this more than I do.
When I graduated from college, my mom gave me the Yamaha G3 Grand that I studied on as a child. However, renting a one bedroom apartment, it was not realistic for me to live with it. To this day, I don't live with that piano. Over the years, it's fallen into a bit of disrepair. I've tried to negotiate for it to be brought into our current house, but there are a number of reasons why I haven't won the argument. Nothing feels less dignified than playing my heartless Korg keyboard, day in, day out. It has no soul, no character, no memory, no sympathy. It's just a mess of wires and metal that threatens to turn on me as it approaches the end of its warranty.
The other day, Emily told me that she's constantly surprised by how expressive the cello is - that it's often a conduit for the emotion a person would not otherwise be able to convey. And it's true. Instruments are supple, intuitive creatures. They need our affection in order to thrive. And, likewise, we need their temperment in order to fully express ourselves. However, as sad as it makes me that my friend will sell her beloved instrument and that I haven't lived with my own for nearly 10 years, I have a tremendous amount of conviction that the instrument does not make the player. The beautiful relationship between the musician, the instrument, and the music is certainly enhanced when all the elements are at their prime. But when this is not the case, it only makes me appreciate the dynamics all the more. It's greedy to demand (or expect) the perfect union between these things. Instead, when it all aligns of its own accord, it is the most splendid, graceful, divine thing to witness.
While we each live, moment to moment in our all too short lives, I think we should express more gratitude for the small, the private, the grand, and the humbling treasures we stumble upon. They truly do not belong to us. We're just lucky to have them for the brief moment we do.
