Trapka for the Violin

I'm connecting with my 2 and a half year old self. Also, I started a YouTube channel.

My neighbor was a violin player. He lived in the apartment across the hall. I don’t remember much about him; I was 2 and a half years old. For some inexplicable reason though, my earliest memory is tied with him. 

I remember my neighbor standing with his violin in the hallway of our building. He had a rag under his chin. His chin was resting on the violin. I thought to myself “the rag is dirty. Why is it on his face?”. 

My mother always told me not to touch trapki, or rags in Russian. Why didn’t this adult listen to mama too?

As I grew up, I’ve considered taking lessons. Did this first memory carry some sort of message for me? Was I destined to play, or try to play the violin? The instrument looked so beautiful; more beautiful than when I was 2 and a half years old. But I didn’t have a strong enough reason to try. So I didn’t. I thought I’d be bored practicing. I give in to too many distracting dopamine hits that have taken the joy out of labor.

Yet my ears would perk up in songs when the violin would shine.

A few months ago, I went to a private violin concert. We drove up on a motorcycle, exactly on time. There were maybe 12 people seated in this house on a hill. There was art displayed on the walls. I remember thinking how art is so much more beautiful when accompanied by pretty sounds. 

The concert started late, and oh how I wished it would never end. I’ve never been so close to live mastery. I stared and stared at the 2 violinists up front. Each played more emphatically, gently, and serenely than the other. It wasn't that dramatic, but I also knew I was taken in. I couldn’t stop getting shivers up and down my arms, legs and spine.

Last Sunday, my boyfriend bought me a violin. I put the bow on the strings and shivered again. It made the ugliest sound. It screeched and scratched, and my ears pleaded for me to stop. It hurt my hand as I coaxed out-of-tune notes from my violin. 

I found a teacher. He’s one of the violinists from that private concert. We agreed to meet twice a week and I started to practice. It is boring. I have to put my phone in the other room every time I “play”.  I’d rather look at the violin than try knowing I won’t get it for a long time. 

I keep thinking back to being 2 and a half years old. I see myself looking at my neighbor, wondering what he had on his shoulder. I have no memory of the sound. I wonder if as I learn, I’ll connect with the little me inside.  Maybe if I play enough, one day I will also need a trapka for the violin. 

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Do boring things with me. I started a YouTube channel to keep myself entertained and accountable. Subscribe, hit play and then mute (I highly recommend the mute button). I’ll be your silent study buddy, focus mate, body double or whatever you’d like to call it. First 25 minute segment is now live.