In many areas of my life these days I've had to adjust my goals. An unexpected half an hour of quiet time while the monkey sleeps outside the local Waitrose that coincides with having three-quarters of a latte left? Absolutely brilliant.
In cello terms, the first eight bars of the Bach Prelude sounds more like music and less like hesitant chicken scratching through unfamiliar fingerings? WIN.
Even though I talked up my 15 minute practice sessions, I had a voice in the back of my head saying, 'yeah sure, it will take you three years to get anywhere'. And yes, it will take me a long time, but changing the finish line helps with that. I sat down with the first 16 bars of the Prelude today (In the Night Garden on mute for monkeypants) and those first eight bars I have been working on floated by. For the first time I was thinking about things other than 'holy crap I hate this string crossing'.
And I experienced that little frisson you get playing those opening bars of the Prelude that feels like every cellist in the world, past and present, is sitting in your chair with you. I love that.
