Knowing that he would always practice more than me, I decided to switch to the cello with Megan.
This brilliant flame orange cello had been with me since then, through school concerts and solo/ensemble challenges, left behind in closets, and eventually moved across the country via amtrak.
But then it sat in closets again. I played, and wasn't nearly as good as I was in my mind. I always imagine myself as Jacqueline Du Pre. A bit of a disappointment at the reality. Yet there was an emotional attachment to my cello and the dream that one day I would practice, like I should have in school, and become really, really good.
It ended up a small yet constant reminder of failure. "I don't have time," I'd think or, "I have other priorities." A little piece of me would recoil and cower when I saw my cello case, inside it my beautiful instrument unused.
As I'm generally downsizing bit-by-bit (and about 10 other factors, like Ian clearing and selling a BUNCH of his car stuff, and recent success selling a few items on EBay). . . my heart and mind were finally in agreement that it would be okay to sell my cello.
After all, when the magical day comes that I have TIME to commit to it, and it can be a priority, I will also have MONEY to purchase another instrument. So up went the craigslist post and when a response came I connected with a buyer who will love it and use learning the cello to calm her pre-mid-life-crisis crisis.
Letting it go has given me an amount of relief and freedom. Now I can relish the good memories instead of being nagged by a "should" feeling, and tiny pangs of regret over and over again.
Are you carrying around your own regretcello? I'd love to know.
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