February 2, 2022
— a non-horn post—
Today I sit in my comfy chair wearing 100% cotton kitty-patterned flannel pajamas and fuzzy socks drinking Sleepy Time Tea to wash down the NyQuil I just took, waiting and praying that I pass out into a deep sleep for at least 8 hours.
Today I did not play one single note on my horn. Yesterday I think I managed 30 minutes. The day before that, and the day before that -- nothing.
I caught the dreaded Covid after masterfully avoiding its spiny-looking, stealthy, as my sister put it, spiky-virus-thingies that we all now recognize since the whole pandemic started two years ago. I remember writing before, when we were all home initially, about how productive and creative we could become! Look at all this time we have now!
That was before I felt the gut-blow of this virus.
As a professional who is lucky enough to be back at work, (well, not this week) I spent time today thinking about how I can turn these lemons into lemonade.
I have the opportunity to practice what I preach to my students who cancelled lessons for being sick. I can swallow my own advice "pill" about how to come back to the horn after any time off...how to get back in shape. I can play through those easy, non-strenuous exercises I hand out to help my students.
I can sit with myself in kindness and patience while I try and recapture the muscle in my face that was so toned just a few days ago.
I can prepare, practice, and do things.
My identity is so ensnared with my ability to play the instrument and accomplish things that I wonder if it would be like losing an organ which my body is incapable of surviving without while I can't play it...like the heart. I know this is dangerous.
I have read a swath of articles and research about struggling with inherent personal value, not being tied to someTHING that defines you, not letting your esteem go down with the sinking ship you find yourself in.
I think when I choose not play horn anymore some day - when it's my choice - it will be fine (but who knows, I'll probably end up writing an article about that too).
But right now, I just can't. Not because I don't want to...I really, really do. I just can't.
And why not?
For one, it hurts. I have learned that this virus really does reveal itself differently to the individual. For me, I can't use my nose and my sinuses ache and throb badly. In addition, this level of congestion contributes nicely to a well-established headache no amount of Tylenol and Aspirin seem to influence.
And yet, I still find myself searching for that silver lining. I still wrestle with repurposing any use of time into something that I can show something for...you know... "And what do you have to show for yourself?!"
I think I have learned that when you feel bad enough, the silver lining doesn't matter. Who cares about lemonade??
This is the reckoning I have to face: feeling physically bad enough to the point that I don't care about lemonade, AND BEING OK WITH IT.
Also, because I have been on this ship before, I know how it will end. This isn't the first time I've had to SIT and not be productive. The thing keeping me in my chair and the lack of productivity do not define me. Not having chops of steel TODAY doesn't change the player that I am. The benefit of age is wisdom, and that I have been on many of these ships and survived them all. I'm sure a lot of my colleagues have too -- maybe that's why seasoned players are so chill. They just know.
I confess, I still wrestle with this. I think until I put the horn down permanently, I will be in some variety of a bantamweight match with myself. My fight however, is not with the horn - the horn is an inanimate object that, as much as I would love to personify it, blame and fight it, is just a horn.
Sitting, by the way, is doing something. More specifically, sitting here in the aforementioned detail of my circumstance IS doing something. I am resting, healing, and reflecting on this day February 2, 2022 and that will have to do.
