Doing what you love

Over a year ago I described a traumatic experience getting together with a cellist to play duets.  I didn't realize how much that had affected me until I started getting invitations to play trios and duets here in ABQ.  I  find myself totally downplaying my abilities ("I think I've forgotten how to play....I just play in the volunteer orchestra....I've been playing in semi-professional orchestras since I was 16 but I don't practice and haven't taken lessons in YEARS....I'm the weak link in family quartet....I usually hunker down in the back of the 2nd violin section in front of the drums....") in the hopes that they will still want me but will be pleasantly surprised instead of contemptuous when we finally sit down, instruments in hand.

The most recent get-together was a little less traumatic, as the invitation came from my stand partner in APO, and she's always very gracious about my playing.  But I was going to be meeting a new violinist, so I was still wary.  I knew it was foolish to be so timid, because M wouldn't be friends with a snippy person with attitude, but then again, I hadn't expected the trashing I received back in Portland, either.

And, I've been feeling disconnected, so meeting new people and scheduling events, even fun ones, has been an effort.  As I've said before, the game face is wearing thin, and I'm not much fun to be around.

The day started inauspiciously.  I'd been up until 2 am, so I skipped yoga, alternately waking and sleeping  from 6 to 10.  Then, I dragged myself to the weekly therapy.  I was tired and my affect was flat.  But eventually we got into it and I went into full weepy mode.  "I don't know what the problem is....I'm just tired, disconnected....I don't want to do anything...."  whinge whinge whinge.  I talked about my twenties and thirties, when I planned and saved for the future (because I'd feel so stupid if I reached retirement age after all with NO savings in place), but I also made sure I traveled and did interesting things while I was young, as the future was unknowable.  I said, now I don't need to plan for the future, why am I spending my precious life doing things that drag me down?

My therapist is an unusual woman.  When I said I just wanted to quit my job and house-sit for people, she said, "why not?"  Turns out, she spent much of her 20's doing just that, house-sitting, traveling, bartering.  I thought about my friend L, who has spent two years visiting "intentional communities," and is soon getting ready to hunker down and write about it.  That would not be my schtick, but as an inspiration and a resource, she can't be beat.  As soon as I got home, I dashed off a note:

Hi L, I'm in a low grade depression, and as I talked with my therapist, I realized that what I need to do is stop working a 9-6 job in a bureaucracy. I pondered what I want to do instead and I realized that I am half-way to becoming a gypsy like you: I don't have the savings to cover it, but I've jettisoned most of my possessions and am on the way to getting rid of the rest.
So I am writing for advice. How difficult is it to locate communities where you can work and live for a few months? How difficult is it to live out of your car or alone? What skills do I have to barter? etc etc.

Then I went to Applebees up on Montgomery to meet M and C for lunch, followed by violin trios at M's lovely house by the Sandia open space.  I was late, of course, and they were gracious, of course.  C seemed to be a cross between ML, my orchestra manager friend who sold me her bow and music when she got MS, and my friend S, who is co-owning my cat and can do ANYTHING.  She had short cropped hair and a tall thin frame and wide toothy smile like M, and a prominent jaw and sly eye-smile like S.

Turns out, she had the answer to the ant problem with my hummingbird feeder as well as lots of advice about house-sitting.  She spent two years in Chicago, living in fellow tennis players' homes and teaching.  Then she got tired of not having her OWN pictures on the wall.  (Note to self, be sure to store your art, not sell it.)

Word of mouth seems to be the name of the game. M has a friend who house-sits, solely through referrals, and that's how my therapist and C both functioned.  Of course, I don't have the network here, but I do have a network.

I was psyched!  from weepy to jubilant in one short hour.  Then we played violin trios, starting with the baroque and working our way to the classical period.  The parts were all on one page, and C had made up 3  booklets, one for each part, with highlighter to help the eye stay on track.  Since we are all 2nd violinists, we all wanted the 3rd part.  And, since the music was C's and the house was M's, I meekly took the 1st part for a few pieces.  Then we hit one with 32nd notes and I put my foot down.  From then on, we rotated booklets for each song.

I was facing the floor-to-ceiling windows, which showed the Sandias in the distance and the bird feeder in the foreground.  It was very distracting, and when the bunny appeared I had to stop and coo.  But we kept playing and playing and no one wanted to stop until I finally started stumbling over the simplest things.  And that was that.

We played for over 2 hours, and plan to do so again this week.

Then I checked my e-mail, and here was what L had to say:

Oh man, yes. "Low-grade depression" describes how I felt for most of my career.

Validation, followed by detailed and excellent blueprints for planning out a life as a nomad. I think I'm gonna do it.