I've done a lot of traveling in my career as a musician, a lot of trains, cars, buses, planes. Somewhere between my flight home from Chicago last night, my 7 hours at home in Pennsylvania, and my early morning train to NYC this morning, I realized that through all of this, and through all of my travels, there has always been an instrument by my side. In fact, while my friends and family live all over the country, the friend that I carry with me always is my instrument.
It hit me when I hopped out of the car this morning and dashed to the train. I had packed hastily last night, but the only thought that ran through my head was "do I have my violin?" I wasn't thinking about whether I had packed enough nor was I dwelling on the fact that it was far too early and I hadn't had enough tea to drink. My only focus was my instrument.
I think this is one of the true joys of being a musician. We, as instrumentalists, have this strange connection with our instruments. They are personified, they are our best friends, our companions, our lovers. While travel with a stringed instrument is stressful, I feel naked without my violin or viola, like a part of me is missing.
Or maybe this is why my dating life is so unsuccessful: part of me is, and will always be, in love with my instrument.
This weekend I'm off to NYC to play for a friend's cabaret at Don't Tell Mama. Here's to my New York performance debut!
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