My Prized Possession
Gratitude Challenge - Week 42 - Your Favorite Possession
My violin is my most prized possession.
When I lived in Portland, Oregon, my next-door neighbor, Roy A. Stilwell, had been the principal violinist with the Portland Symphony Orchestra for 40 years. He died in 2006, when I was eight years old. In 85 years, he touched many people, not only through the power of his music, but also through his dynamic yet kindhearted demeanor.
He was elderly, but vibrant; his eyes danced when he talked, their light exposing the happiness he held within himself but longed to share. The wrinkles on his face represented the wisdom of his life, and his aged saunter reminisced of a time when he was young. Nevertheless, age did not rob him of his enthusiasm for life, for he treated new discoveries as though he were young, never losing his ability to learn. He was enigmatic, acting and laughing as though he were young, when, in reality, he was just the opposite. Knowledge can be learned, but wisdom comes with age. He possessed both, never flaunting what he knew, but in a single conversation, one could realize the depth and magnitude of his life experiences.
When he played the violin, he lost himself in the music. The violin, once a lifeless instrument, flourished as he commanded its power, wielding it with both force and finesse. His fingers, elongated and slender, danced over the strings, emitting inspiring melodies. The bow was merely an extension of his right arm, gliding back and forth while producing sounds, both smooth and rich, causing listeners to be enchanted. He articulated the violin with feverish intensity, losing contact with his surroundings. His final bow stroke left the audience hesitant, the lingering notes absorbing into the air.
I do not remember how or when we met, only that it was in my backyard. The sound of his music, clearly enunciated, wafted over the fence, igniting my young mind with a passion. At four years old, I somehow understood that music would become a force propelling my life. His music gave me purpose, a burning desire I longed to fulfill. He instilled in me a love of melodies, for the intricacies of Bach and Mozart. This led to a lifetime of musical endeavors, culminating in my pursuit of dance.
My violin is a symbol of Roy, but also a symbol of myself and my purpose. I long to share my love of the arts with the world, whether it be through music, dance, fine art, or writing. I hope to play my violin for the rest of my life, and in doing so, commemorate all those who have supported my artistic mission.
When I lived in Portland, Oregon, my next-door neighbor, Roy A. Stilwell, had been the principal violinist with the Portland Symphony Orchestra for 40 years. He died in 2006, when I was eight years old. In 85 years, he touched many people, not only through the power of his music, but also through his dynamic yet kindhearted demeanor.
He was elderly, but vibrant; his eyes danced when he talked, their light exposing the happiness he held within himself but longed to share. The wrinkles on his face represented the wisdom of his life, and his aged saunter reminisced of a time when he was young. Nevertheless, age did not rob him of his enthusiasm for life, for he treated new discoveries as though he were young, never losing his ability to learn. He was enigmatic, acting and laughing as though he were young, when, in reality, he was just the opposite. Knowledge can be learned, but wisdom comes with age. He possessed both, never flaunting what he knew, but in a single conversation, one could realize the depth and magnitude of his life experiences.
When he played the violin, he lost himself in the music. The violin, once a lifeless instrument, flourished as he commanded its power, wielding it with both force and finesse. His fingers, elongated and slender, danced over the strings, emitting inspiring melodies. The bow was merely an extension of his right arm, gliding back and forth while producing sounds, both smooth and rich, causing listeners to be enchanted. He articulated the violin with feverish intensity, losing contact with his surroundings. His final bow stroke left the audience hesitant, the lingering notes absorbing into the air.
I do not remember how or when we met, only that it was in my backyard. The sound of his music, clearly enunciated, wafted over the fence, igniting my young mind with a passion. At four years old, I somehow understood that music would become a force propelling my life. His music gave me purpose, a burning desire I longed to fulfill. He instilled in me a love of melodies, for the intricacies of Bach and Mozart. This led to a lifetime of musical endeavors, culminating in my pursuit of dance.
My violin is a symbol of Roy, but also a symbol of myself and my purpose. I long to share my love of the arts with the world, whether it be through music, dance, fine art, or writing. I hope to play my violin for the rest of my life, and in doing so, commemorate all those who have supported my artistic mission.
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