Grace
I think a lot about how my life might have been different. I know you’re not supposed to do that, but I do. How things might have turned out had I made choices not the ones I actually made, where I might have gone had I taken a different turn some place or another. I often feel that a lot went wrong in my life, that I didn’t make good choices, and there’s a lot of guilt and shame that comes along with that. Not to say it was all bad. My life turned out alright – I have found a semblance of stability, and some measure of joy. But a lot went wrong.
When I started learning fiddle tunes in earnest last autumn, I couldn’t help thinking that I should have started so much sooner. Indeed, it seemed as if this music had been here all along, and I just wasn’t paying attention. And if I had been, I could have already been doing this for years. I’d know so many more tunes, so many more people, I could have been part of so many more jams. And for this reason, learning fiddle has been an exercise in grace for me.
Grace – as I understand it – is recognizing that you have done wrong and that maybe you aren’t a good person, and then trying to be a good person anyways. Playing fiddle reminds me of all the mistakes I’ve made – well, at least a substantial portion anyways – and giving myself over to the joy of playing music means having always to remember that it’s OK to have fun.
Part of playing old time music making friends. You hang out and play music together awhile, and you just become friends with people. That’s something I’ve known intuitively throughout my life – I play music because it’s a way to have friends. That I’ve got talent enough that people want to play with me I suppose is pure luck. Life without friends is really hard, too hard, I think, for most people.
I’ve lost friends because I said and did things I shouldn’t have. Good people who were part of my life, and I spurned them out of frustration, anxiety, and fear. I think a good deal about people who are no longer part of my life – certainly more than I ought to. Sometimes I think about them and wonder what they’d say if they could hear me playing fiddle. If they’d forgive me and welcome me back with open arms. And I’m not so foolish as to think that would really happen. We all love a good redemption story because in real life such things scarcely ever happen. You make a mess of your life, and that’s what your life is ever after: a mess. It can be fun making a mess, but it’s miserable living in it.
I’ve made some friends playing old time music. Really good people I’m lucky to have in my life. And I worry – I don’t want to screw it up. And I try to give myself enough grace that I can persevere. Just keep playing, keep showing up. Be kind, be thoughtful. Yes, I’ve screwed up before, but I can do the right thing now.