I've only been playing Chanty for just over two months, yet there are numerous times when I have either growled or snarled or loudly whimpered and whined because I felt so frustrated that I was never going to be able to learn whatever it is that I am trying to learn. And it honestly feels like I'm never going to learn it, whatever the "it" of the moment happens to be.
But Don warned me. He told me that I would say, "There's no way I can do this!" a hundred times before I was done, but he also told me to keep going, even when it feels like there's no point. The tutorial book reinforces this idea, telling me to do the fingering correctly, even if it's out of timing, because the important thing to do is the fingering with clean notes, as that's how the fingers will learn how to do it correctly.
The important thing to do is to play clean notes, and the fingers will learn how to play it correctly.
The most recent frustration has been the "throws on D" that no matter how much I practice them, there is just no way that my fingers are ever going to move that quickly. But I keep going through the motions, just like Don and this tutorial book have been telling me to do. And one day last week my fingers quite unexpectedly started throwing on D, much to my great shock and awe. . .lol.
There's still much work to be done to play them well, of course. But I can't play or do something well until I have learned how to play or do the something in the first place. So I've become the queen of playing poorly, with the hope of one day playing well. Which sounds like a sad state of affairs, but I am feeling so much joy with even just the playing of Chanty poorly that the hope of one day playing her well is just the icing on the chanter cake.
So do my fingers have a mind and will of their own?
It's been a very odd experience to have to shift my thinking from "I am in control my fingers" to "just go through the motions and the fingers will learn what to do all by themselves." It seems like I'm in control of my fingers. . . .lol. I can consciously move them seemingly the way that I want them to move. But I am slowly beginning to understand that there is a process of learning that must become automatic, invisible, and outside of my ability to consciously control, in order for the playing (in the case the throws on D) with true precision and musical pride.
Who knew that my fingers would play best only when I get myself out of the way and just let them play all on their own.
On a completely different layer of my life, I am also being told to go through the motions. The theory of exposure therapy is telling me that since the lifestyle of avoidance behaviors has become such an entrenched part of the PTSD, the only way to undo these habits is to "go through the motions" of different behaviors, even if they feel fake or stupid or whatever else they feel, and eventually they will become the new habits I desire.
This is not at all what it feels like, of course. . . .just like with Chanty.
Well, in all honesty, I'm not enjoying the going-through-the-motions of Exposure Therapy as much as I'm enjoying the going-through-the-motions with Chanty. But Chanty is definitely helping me to trust the process on the one hand, because I can definitely see the fruits of the labor on the other. And while I'm not trying to learn "throws on D" in my personal life, Chanty is very much teaching me how to walk in faith that the going-through-the-motions with uncomfortable behaviors will eventually bring about the healing and change that I desire.
Who knew that Chanty would become not only a wonderful friend with whom I could joyfully dance and sing, but also a wise teacher who would become my beacon of light for a better life. . .