Hold it there!

Hildegard was over for dinner the other night, as I mentioned. Riley had had a tough day, and ended up confessing some of her darkest cello-related fears. The problem, these days, is that the Maestro doesn't sit with his cello. Why does he need to sit with his cello, you ask? Well, right now, he doesn't.

He has been practicing his bow holds with the practice bow. He has been doing some singing and note matching. He has been practicing his Twinkle rhythms. There are a lot of things that he needs to practice, without his cello.

The problem is really one of planning for the future. When he gets his real bow, it'll be time to sit with his cello for practices again. He is going to get his bow, and there will be a natural upswing in his interest, relative to playing viola with sticks. Unfortunately, everytime he has been more excited about practicing, it has eventually regressed to the mean.

Riley, with her gifted perfectionism, tends to think that if she handles it right this time, the Maestro will stay excited about practicing. Because, of course, the Maestro's interest is directly related to what Riley does. Actually, there is enough to that that I can't be completely sarcastic about it. If you push him, he pushes back. But really, it is in the end up to the boy, and there is only so much credit or blame we can take.

Hildegard's question on the topic was, "What do you hope to get out of cello lessons?" Suzuki philosophy is that music practice is for character development. It's very Zen, and as we all know, attachment to our expectations leads to suffering. All practice -in anything- is for character development. Chemistry practice, biking practice, meditation practice. All for the good of the boy. If he ends up playing in an orchestra someday, that's just a side-product of good practice. Peace of mind is a side-product of good practice, also, and no less important, as far as a good buddhist is concerned. In fact, peace of mind is more important.

So, if he doesn't sit with his cello as often as we want, it may be bad practice from the perspective of getting first chair. It may be valuable, if incremental, progress towards good character with peace of mind, however.

So, what is my goal? What is Riley's goal? What do we want out as a result of the investment of time and money? Riley tends to feel obligated to get a return on the investment of everyone who is helping pay for lessons. She can let go of her own attachments and expectations, sure, but she feels responsibility to hold on to the expectations she imagines that our families have.

Hildegard didn't say all of this, of course. She just asked what we would be doing with the time, if we weren't putting it into lessons. Her guess was some other character developing thing, hopefully leading to peace of mind. Because good Suzuki practice is the same as good life practice. It's all about the moment we are in, empty of both the hopes and fears of the future. It is incremental progress from where we are at.