I think I know why I like to eat. It's because I am alive. Hunger affirms aliveness. That's the other side of the coin of desperate, void-filling overeating. It is the irrepressible joy of affirmation (or affirmation of joy), although taken a bit too far sometimes.

The desperation also comes in the form of holding on to that happy feeling for dear life. Or trying to multiply it, intensify it. I think I do that in my music, too. I push my joyfulness or sorrow or any edgy expression to its brink. And I guess it gets me into trouble there too, physically and also interpretively.

I eat overexuberantly because I am afraid the day will come when I will not feel that exuberance about living, and somehow stuffing my face will either make up for that lack later on, or delay its onset. The day may come when I do not have the inclination to eat. I will not have that absolutely wondrous feeling associated with hunger and oral fixation. So what I have to remind myself of is that I can simply enjoy the present association of hunger, eating and joie de vivre without fear of the future, or sadness over what is not delightful in my life. Maybe it's another way of saying, simply be pleased to be alive!

On another topic, I noticed tonight that the level I must attain of muscular rest needs to be greater than the average person's. I have to rest as vigorously as I work. This refers specifically to cello-playing muscles. It could also apply to anyone's focal points of physical exertion.