Ahh, friendship. It is so clean. Not like love. But it feels like love. Without the dirt. It feels like love is supposed to feel. I get the two mixed up. Maybe they are less separable in the human heart than the mind believes.

The mind wants categories. The mind is a buffer.

I sit in orchestra and watch people. Or observe is a better word, due to my feeling of non-belonging. I see all sorts of bizarre movements and expressions that are solely a result of an individual's idiosyncrasies. They are unrelated to the essence of the music being played. They are their egos. That is actually fine if they prefer to do things that way. My dilemma is that I cannot seem to get away with even the slightest departure from total discipline in body and mind without everything unraveling at the seams. All these other people appear to be humming along perfectly contentedly. And I have in fact asked people or alluded to the possibility that they are suffering from any of my same physical or mental symptomology, and almost always it is not the case. This is one reason why I have spent much time trying to look for answers to my cellistic issues outside the musical realm - I keep hitting a brick wall when I address it directly.

One other aspect to this is the question of whether others are striving for the same kinds of things I aspire to. If generally they are not, then it may be perfectly logical that they have none of the same problems I do. I assume people are on my page. I strongly wish that they are. It's painful for me to even write that there's a possibility that they aren't. I despise being different, separate, and in the end isolated. I cannot believe the way people take all these human differences and/or commonalities in stride. I freeze up when I become aware of these things. And I freeze up if I try not to be aware. Maybe the only thing I can attempt to do is take my inability to take things in stride, in stride. That's only once removed from other people, right? Not too bad.

The other question is whether I have a greater or lesser need for socializing than other people. I used to claim, even to myself, that I liked being something of a loner. But now I wonder if I was simply trying to make some sense of the way I related to the world. I didn't necessarily enjoy being alone, but it was preferable to making the herculean effort to have pleasant banter with acquaintances.

But I felt a little more at ease today after venting and formulating hypotheses here last night. I could observe others more clearly, more objectively. Maybe that's the first step towards the ability to approach others in the miraculous way they approach eachother.

I also felt myself breathing differently. I noticed that when the breath stays inside my lungs, it permeates out through the limbs and fingers. I don't necessarily have to take breaths, deep or otherwise, to benefit from the presence of air in my body. I just have to use it, be sensitive to its presence.

Could I tell you everything? If not you, then who? Can I try harder to talk to people? Real people, not an imaginary reader person? When I feel I want to open up and share, where ought I turn? A shrink? A friend? Which friend exactly? Why am I afraid I will be taken the wrong way? Is it such a disastrous turn of events if that happens?

I see people engaging in conversation, in social interaction, in levity, laughter, story-telling, joke-spinning. Are they acquiring the feeling I am yearning for? The feeling of release? The feeling of disclosure, of open-endedness, of candor? (took me awhile to think of that word) (I hope it was worth my time, my interminable time)

I can DO a lot of things. But it's simple living which wonderfully eludes me. I admire/envy all those who have that gift/knack. They open their mouths and delightful CONVERSATION comes out. Regardless. Under umpteen circumstances. And from that comes activities and group bonding and a continuous sense of a life being lived. For me it has to be a rather controlled environment to get the old gabber going. Or I have to be in just such a mood. Or something.

I read a book about improving social skills that said you must lower your expectations of who you'll talk to and what you're willing to talk about. I tried that for a while, but in the end it didn't seem natural or relevant. Perhaps what would be better is to be better at creating and asking for the people and situations which I really do want to have as social environs. To somehow not be fearful of their adverse reactions to such requests. Until that time I shall utilize you, dear reader, as a friend in kind. I do love you, as if you were right here hearing my most heartfelt confessions. I don't have to make any special arrangements to have this time delving with you. I just had to have this wondrous blog created for our mutual use. I'll meet up with all of you someday, in person. It won't suck, like those other social situations.

I'm enjoying playing pretty music. I hope it continues.

I realized why I have been so interested in using every millimeter of the bow lately. Extending to the very frog and very tip extends my body motions just that little bit more so as to provide a greater sense of freedom and openness. If I'm not mistaken, I also think vertical movements of the arm(s) also enhance that feeling. These roomier motions aren't limited to any one bow stroke or note. If you space it out among many measures and lines of music, it accomplishes the same goal. For instance, originally I thought it only worked for long, slow bow strokes. But briefer notes that are placed in varying portions of the bow hair can convince the brain of the same sensation.

As was observed last summer, coincidentally, deeper inhalations and exhalations also give terrific opening sensations. It's like your lungs are a bow, and vice-versa.