Dancing to the Beat of My Own Heart Strings!

        Once again, I'm sitting here feeling a bit torn.  On the one hand, February is, in my part of the world, traditionally celebrated (at least the first half) as a month for love.  I'm not sure why we seem to have to have a theme for each month, but it appears that love is the theme for February. 

So what to do?  Go with it, or rebel? *sigh*  Choices, choices...

        So I think I've found a compromise, because the art of compromise is a handy thing to learn, enjoy it or not, though I won't admit whether or not I do. ;)

        So this week, I'm discussing the following concept:

What non-living thing do I consider the "love of my life"? 

        I'm not sure why the Queen song of that name pops in my head, every time I see that in quotes, like that.  Probably because I've an amazing recording of a friend of mine singing it.  But that isn't my answer. (Sorry, love.)

        I've had a few non-living loves in my life, actually.  Over the years, I've told the story of "my first, mad, passionate, love affair", which was with the cello (musical instrument).  Since you probably don't know it, I'll fill a paragraph or two (or five), telling you the story!

        In 4th grade (around 9 years old, thereabouts), my elementary school had some very wonderful people come offer to teach students how to play an instrument of our choice, among those available.  Only a select number of students were in the music lessons, either because we were the only ones who wanted to, or for some special reason like we wanted to and our grades were okay enough.  Whatever the reason, the two instruments I really remember being there were the violin and the cello.

        It was impractical for me to try the cello.  For one thing, at 9 years old, a regular sized cello was huge!  For another, cellos are not inexpensive instruments, even for old, cheap, used ones!  A friend of mine chose the cello, for which I kind of felt jealous of her, but we both got to learn an instrument, so I was happy enough.  I had decided that since I had two cousins who also played violin, it would be fitting for me to play, too.

        I remember meeting in the teachers' lounge, feeling like I was one of the most elite kids at that school, being allowed in the one place students were never allowed to go with the threat of death, dismemberment, suspension or failure, if not the most dreaded: removal from the room and getting a stern talking-to!  Every week, we few, violin students were allowed to meet our teacher in the lounge to practice. 

I can only imagine the strength of constitution it takes to teach music.  

However, that is a side note.  

Moving on...

        I received a used, student-quality violin as a sort-of gift from my parents, as my father couldn't afford a new one (and was pragmatic enough to be aware that a kid of that age doesn't always stick with something long enough to pay it off), but worked out a rent-to-own option with a local shop, so that I could practice.  He eventually paid it off some time later, and incidentally, I still have it, though it is in poor condition, these days, and would take some serious, professional repairs to be playable.

        I played that violin all the way through junior high, and when I got to high school, I had every intention of continuing, though I'd begun to realize an appreciation for the cello, again, and had even asked a friend if she could show hers to me and explain it, some.  But the first day of my sophomore year (my high school started in 10th grade, approx 15 years old), the orchestra teacher stood up and asked if any of the violins would mind switching to cello, as we had something like 30 violins and 2 cellos!  It took me a month, but I taught myself on a school-owned instrument, and by the end of the school musical, I was ready to play with the orchestra, and there began my greatest, most beautiful, musical love affair!

        Why do I call it that?  Why do I recall it with such fervent fondness?  Because I went to school early to practice in the student practice rooms.  I went to the practice rooms during lunch, too.  I played my heart out with the orchestra.  I stayed after school when I could, to practice.  I absolutely loved that instrument, as battered and tattered as a school loaner was, and I remembered what one of the instrument teachers had said, in jest, but that was true: if you have a passionate, musical heart, when you find "your" instrument... the one that speaks to you, heart, mind and soul... you'll know it.  You will hear it whenever it calls to you.  You will know its voice instantly, and you will ache to have it with you, to connect with it on the most wondrous level: making music together.

        So there is an example of - well, a few things, the least of which might be that I am an incredibly sappy person with a heart for personification.  Many years passed, with joys and heartaches, but even now, though I cannot play anymore, I can still hear a cello line in a song on the radio, in a movie, or on a show or commercial on TV, and my heart smiles.

        There is, of course, a curiosity in me that makes me wonder what others would think to answer to this question?

What non-living thing do I consider the "love of my life"?

        The cello just happened to bring up that question while I was pondering things to use as topics, because I heard one in the background of a song.  However, there are many things that could be used in place of it.  Some would choose Honor, Loyalty, or Love.  Some might enjoy a passion for something, like Photography, Teaching, or Research.  And yet others might feel that an object, such as a car, house, or other thing that gave their lives meaning for some reason rose above the every day wants and wishes of one's life.  And I do not feel that there is anything wrong with any of those answers.  Because for some reason, they motivate and drive us toward greater things.

We just have to remember to steer to the best things.

You know... the things that make us better, stronger, and/or more fulfilled.

Joy is optional, but very strongly encouraged!

        I suppose this isn't your typical, dive-deep kind of post, but sometimes you gotta dance to the rhythm of your own music.  Or face the drummer.  Or something.

        Better days ahead, my friends!