I thought I’d blog something positive, seeing as how when I scan past entries I notice that I’ve been blogging bad news more often than not. I�ve been rather glum recently.

So! I had orchestra again last night, and there was new music waiting for us: Handel’s Toccata and Fugue in F (I think; I might be misremembering the key signature). There were only two copies of the cello part for this, and four cellists, so I shared with another cellist, the one of the infamous Canada Day concert shared stand. Now, when I share music, I end up squinting to my left, and I get dizzy. Sure enough, I couldn’t follow correctly, and rapidly became alarmingly nauseous. I stopped trying to play, and eventually laid my cello down quietly, stood up, left the stage, and sat outside in the cool fresh air, breathing deeply. I had a flash of “why am I bothering, I’ll never do this right” which surfaces every once in a while, ignored it, and eventually went back inside, figuring that if it got worse I’d just pack up and go home. I sat and followed the music until we switched to the Mendelssohn symphony, when I pulled my own stand forward and opened my own music. “Oh,” said my seatmate, “you don’t want to share mine?” “No, but thanks,” I said politely, “I’ll use mine, it has all my marks on it anyway.”

Now, the conductor has told us a few times now that this is a difficult symphony, and I’m still waiting for the proverbial piano to fall, because I’m having a ball with it. So we started, and every once in a while Sean or my old stand partner Walter (who now sits in the second chair, at the seemingly casual request of our principal cellist which everyone in the cello section knows is a veiled promotion and the mark of favour) would check on me: “Are you feeling okay? Do you need air? Water?” No, I was fine, I told them, my mind was somewhere else now, and so long as I didn’t think about my stomach I’d be all right. They were very kind.

From that point on I proceeded to have a fantastic night, first with the opening movement of the Mendelssohn symphony, then for the last ten minutes of rehearsal during the Rossini overture we’re doing. I truly adore these new strings; I do need a softer rosin, and I had to stand up and retune them (via the pegs, not the fine tuners) every twenty minutes or so as they stretch, but all in all, it went spectacularly well. So well, in fact, that time flew, and I wasn’t ready for the evening to come to an end. (I have never, ever understood why people are in such a hurry to leave something they do for fun.)

As I was packing up, Walter turned around with a smile and said, “You’ve been practicing; I can tell. Having the free time to do it is really showing. Soon you’ll be in my chair!”

Well, well, well. I think I must have glowed. “I do have the time, and the headspace,” I agreed, “but these new strings have something to do with it as well, I’m sure. Thank you.”

My intonation sounds more precise, my overall tone sounds more cohesive, and the sound in general is clearer, the bow moves more easily and articulation just seems to be more present than it did before. Having someone else notice really did wonders for my confidence. Maybe it’s the new bridge; maybe it’s the still-new bow; maybe it’s the new strings; maybe it’s all of them, plus me.

Hmm. Just looking at that list makes me add up how much I’ve spent on upgrading my instrument and accessories over the past nine months and wince a little bit — just a little bit. It’s cheaper than buying a new instrument, after all. And now that it’s all done, I don’t need to worry for a while.

I do sound better, and that I can even tell shows me how much I’ve improved over the past year. I love playing with these new strings, because I love the sound. Loving to play is a good thing, because I’ll play even more. And the more I play, the better I get. What a nice change from the vicious circles I usually get caught up in. What would I call this — an auspicious circle? Whatever the term, I’m thankful for it, and intend to keep on enjoying it, as well.