“There is progress whether ye are moving forward or backward. The trick is to move”.
My toils burden me like an overbearing yolk. With my exacting piano goals and plans set before me, I chip away at a painstakingly slow pace. So many notes, none of which want to harmonise with the other. Stilted and halting, the sound emanates hollow tones. Unfortunately, reality has its own designs on my expectations.
Doubts start bolting like frightened horses. Rising questions accost the background in crescendoing chorus. What are you doing? Where are you going? With a drowning sense, I try to push past the thicket of misgivings, and refocus on the task at hand.
Patterns are repeated over and over again, but each slightly different from the one before. There is still no flow, neither here nor there. There is more backwards than forwards. Progress is painful, but lack of progress is even worse. With no relief, I can only keep moving my fingers and hands, hoping to eventually tame them into submission.
Leaning progresses in a stepwise manner, rather than a gentle incline. Finding oneself in the plateau phase of assimilating information, however, can be very disheartening. I just keep on moving and practising, aspiring for a breakthrough, however small it may be.