"On this Sunday afternoon I keep playing the notes anyway, running through every piece. Because that's important too, to have each note of each score burned into my mind and my fingers. The physical part of the performance needs to feel as natural as pouring water from a pitcher. Still, with just two days to go, I should be feeling actual music. It should feel real. The composer's ideas ought to be burning the paint off my practice room walls. The emotions should be vaporizing the muscles and the violin and the fingers and the bow, until there's nothing left but pure thought. Because that's what a true performance is, and nothing less will do" (Clements, 2006, p. 100).As I prepare my mind for the new semester on this Sunday evening, the fact that I have not yet finished the revisions on my dissertation weighs heavily upon me. It seems that after having written 10 chapters (586 pages), "I should be feeling actual music. It should feel real." My ideas ought to be burning SOMETHING up! However, instead of "pure thought" I currently have a muddy, slushy mess that isn't that much different from the winter roads outside. And, just as snow loses its appeal after one has been entrapped by it for several months, I have a terrible case of cabin fever with respect to these ideas. I am SO ready for Spring in every sense of the word! I can only hope that as it draws nearer, the frozen extremities of my mind will also begin to thaw, nurturing mental crocuses and daffodils that will assure me that this wretched winter will not last forever.
References
Clements, Andrew. (2006). Things hoped for. NY: Philomel Books.
