Lesson No 1

I had forgotten what it feels like to wake up and feel like this. Awake. Alive. Joyful. Ready.

Is is that I got to hang out with my friend Homer last night?

Is it just that winter is finally ebbing into spring?

Is it that I am 3 weeks away from something that I have wanted since I was 19?

It is all those things. But it is also having music hokey pokey itself back into my life.

The last time I felt like this was when I was studying drumming with Bob 5 years ago. There was a lightness and serious amounts of laughter that came to me thru those lessons. And Monday drum lessons were often followed by much better weeks. There was little to no pressure during these and Bob managed to teach me Elephant Stomp and Baladi among other rhythms. He also invented fish hands for my friend Suz, and would challenge me to learn a rhythm and then re-learn it with other handedness, all-one-handedness or some other crazy ass and laughable plan that constantly challenged my organized way of doing things. The one thing I remember from those Mondays - laughter.

As much as I loved Bob, his partner was unhealthy for me to be around. The drumming brought me spiritual elevation, the personal relationship with Bob's partner induced me to new lows in manipulation and negative energy. I chose to limit my contact with Bob's partner, so lessons with Bob fell by the wayside. I still drum, but I recognize that I was much better at it when I had those raucous lessons to enjoy. I never really got good at drumming, but I enjoyed every Laurel and Hardy moment of trying to learn.

That was a while ago. This year I decided to bust out of the winter doldrums by learning some new things. Even opened the floor for discussion with my friends on Facebook. Many suggested I learn a musical instrument: - cello, banjo, guitar, piano, oboe, even harmonica were suggested. I think my friends are intuitively brilliant, because it isn't really about which instrument for me as much as it is AN instrument. Homer even offered to teach me to play bass. Something about that just felt right. As if the push had really been toward that all along. He found me a bass on Craig's List and within a couple weeks I had a bright shiny new blue toy. (I always DO refer to it as my toy. Maybe I just like seeing it as play v. work).

Last night was my first lesson. It lasted 2 hours. Homer was amazingly patient as I fumbled and mangled every bit of the instrument he loves. And it contained all the magic and laughter I found with Bob and my drum. Oh don't get me wrong. It was hard. Hard to allow myself the place of beginner. Hard to give myself permission to be REALLY BAD at something. Hard to remind myself I will get better. Hard to coax my 48 year old fingers to move in new ways. Hard to keep the strings pressed down hard enough to get the clear ringing notes I wanted. Hard to integrate both hands. But every so often, I would get a good scale or even a couple of really beautiful notes and my heart would respond like a bird - soaring up. I did that! Me. Mary. I played that.

I got up this morning, fingers feeling like I dipped the tips in liquid nitrogen. But I got up happy. I mean REALLY happy. Almost better-than-sex happy. (Hold on there Baba Looey. I said ALMOST). Looking forward to more torture. Trying to figure out how I can get an amp and cable so I can practice more. Not practice so I impress Homer, but practice because it felt so good to play and it brought something into my life that had been on holiday. Practice to find more of those perfect little notes that made my heart feel so blissed out. Am an excited little kid. I haven't felt that in a while.