A Note About "A Violin Unused"


Cathy was sitting here, wrapping presents, when I began to talk to her about my next Tumblr entry (coming soon to a computer near you). But before I could do that, she interjected to tell me how my last post affected her: as if it was a suicide note. Likely, the post made you feel the same way. Because it gave no indication that it was about a violin in its case, remembering the past and hoping to be used again. Now, normally, criticism can be hard to take. But this just made me laugh! And laugh. Even now, I want to laugh. Because it was true. When she read it out loud, I could see that there was nothing in it that might tell you it was about a violin.


I apologize. If you were worried about my mental health, let me assure you that things are good. In fact, I’m having a great time. Enjoying myself. And…


I changed the title. Probably cheating a bit. Not really subtle enough that way to be worthy of a true writer (as professionals tell me). But obviously I was being TOO subtle, so this will have to do.

By the way…

Lately, I have had this thing about violins. I love their shape, their craftsmanship in wood, their colour. I love the synchronized bow movements of the violin section in a symphony. I love the sound in concert. And I think about destiny/ purpose often in terms of a violin. When its sitting idle, its a beautiful thing, reflecting something of its maker. But when its picked up and played, its fullness begins to resonate into the world. Sonic waves Impact ears, walls, and bodies with molecules of air. Eyes drink in and reflect the light of weaving colour and movement. And it all goes into us. Sweeping us up into heaven or joy. Or dashing us into despair and darkness. Or stirring the dying embers of hope into fireflies changing the night to day. Violins. And cellos. And double basses. But its violins that are capturing me at the moment. 

Open up their little caskets and let them live again…