Some people wear their compiled stress so beautifully that it seems like fine jewelry. They dress nicely for work, smile included, and have learned to bat away all incoming threats at contentment with an aggressive optimism. They do not afford themselves complaining, because it would crumble the scaffolding.
I have a student that I think of in this way. And I've been trying to fit her into another hole, or to see her as what she presents, but this evening I had to really asked how work was going. She's spoken about it before, but usually I'm aware it is a cello lesson so I try to keep things along those lines. And tonight I didn't worry about that.
So when it came time for bringing in the cello, I realized that the path we had been walking (or rather, I had) was so flighty and inattentive to what she could bring to music and what it could bring to her, that our lesson culminated in us brainstorming other pieces she should play (rather than force-feeding Suzuki), and her sight-reading the Prelude to Bach's Second Suite.
It just so happened that today was very cold, so I brought my "second" cello to the school, which happens to be my cello from high school. It is the instrument with which I first discovered this piece. I played a bit of it for her, and something resonated from long, long ago. I remembered my high school teacher awakening me to something more in music, awakening this instrument and my touch to it, seeing something more than just the composite parts.
I would never have guessed to find him and his love in this place in such a strong way. There are so many layers to discovery, to sharing, to opening and awakening oneself in the presence of others.
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