Tag: therapy

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Water Therapy

Everything is right with the universe once more.

Nothing cures my work day week blues and blahs like being out on the water for an hour.  $15 buys a lot of sanity.

I always was a water baby.  From my first time as a toddler in a wading pool in our back yard (I remember it seemed enormous!) fully immersed up to my knees, to summers slumming in pools, rivers and on beaches, to vacations where every motel had to have a pool (or I just was not staying!) and on to camping, motorboats, canoes, kayaks, sailboats and now paddleboards,  I just had to be near water.  Even if that meant sitting on a rock, feet dangling in the water, minnows nibbling my toes.  I spent one glorious summer doing just that, sitting next to the river on the rocks watching the water go slowly past me.  Oh to do that again!

I’ve held a fascination for water as long as I can remember, the smallest trickle of water will get my attention;  rain, melting snow, water in a ditch, spring runoff over rocks, a puddle on the street, lawn sprinklers (oh the rainbows!).  I waited hours to watch a geyser finally erupt, and can be mesmerized by waterfalls.

I love boats (the quiet type!), where I glide over an underwater world unfolding beneath me; undulating weeds, smooth multicoloured rocks, soft glittering sand, silver flashes of minnow schools and the occasional crayfish.  On the surface there is a dance of water striders and whirligigs.  When I discover a stranded non-water bug, I am happy to scoop him up, let him dry on the end of my paddleboard and return him to land.

Today as I sat on the paddleboard I was greeted by a curious snapping turtle and an elegant black swan.  They checked me out, I said hello and continued on.  A busy muskrat let me know not to come to close to her nest as she swam by, slapping her tail at me as she dove.

I was investigated by dragonflies, mayflies and deer flies.  Swooped over by barn swallows,  Honked at by geese and ignored by ducks.

Trees swept over my head along the shoreline.  I caught glimpses of bright yellow finches in the foliage and drifted uneasily under a dead tree heavy with black cormorants.  A hummingbird made a brief appearance and disappeared into the daisies.

Isn’t this a beautiful place?

I am so lucky.  I am so blessed.

Today did me a lot of good.

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The Gift

I dusted off the case and opened it; the 3 sections of silver flute glistened from the backdrop of black velvet.  Ah.  At last.  I assemble the instrument and anticipate the moment beautiful sounds fill my ears.

For 8 long weeks I could not play the flute.  To do so resulted in coughing up my lungs for an hour.  I suffered a bad virus which incapacitated me in many ways beyond flute playing.  But it was the flute playing I missed the most.

Playing an instrument is therapeutic.  Even to play it badly, which is frequently my norm, is still relaxing.  I relied on it to dissipate frustrating days and to mellow my working mind to an evening of peaceful reflection.

The gift this Christmas was opening that box.  My neighbours probably were not so pleased.  I found it difficult to play at first and I’d forgotten some notes and fingerings. Slowly it all started to come back and by today I am at least where I was 8 weeks ago.  It is hard to advance much with just 25 minutes practice a day – but I am respectful of fellow tenants and limit my joy.  Otherwise, I’d probably be hours at it.

During the hiatus I satisfied myself watching You Tube flute instructional videos.  There are hundreds but I have my favorite and I was delighted to watch a lot of those.  I also watched videos comparing all manner of flutes from student to 3 times my annual salary and had my ears heightened to the differences in tone quality (and hence my budget considerations for a flute purchase just increased).

I look at my student rental and determine to make it sound like it is 20K.  Admittedly, I have difficultly making it sound as it should.  No matter, in my mind I hear hypnotic melodies, sometimes even symphonies.

I am enamored with music in much the same way as I once was with mathematics.  They are elegant languages, representations of things we cannot adequately put into words.  The symbols allow us to replicate complicated ideas, to interpret them in our own style, embellish them, expand on them.  I delight in the design and patterns formed by symbols and digits across a page.  There are ground rules, but from there you can soar.  From there is birthed art!

I sometimes regret not having studied music in my youth, but perhaps it would have gone the same route as mathematics.  Two things conspired to make me abandon that subject; women didn’t do math in the 1960’s and they made math so boring.   Thus I was highly discouraged to continue but this was not such a hardship, as the way they taught math made it exceedingly mind deadening.  I was curious and creative and that does not fit rote and memorization.  I found this to be a bit true when I took music lessons, and I got a little discouraged by that.  I am not well suited to sit and shut up and just memorize.  I want to make it mine!  I want to take it places!

I put my flute away and face another week of work, very grateful that I have had these few days to rest and do the things I love.  My cat takes one last swat at the metronome and all is quiet.