I just noticed a new passenger on my bus.
When something goes awry, this passenger whispers, ‘I told you so. You can’t do this. If only you had listened to me and not wasted all this time. Again.’ This passenger whispers at strange moments when I least expect it.
Then again, this passenger whispers repetitively at the same spots, and after all these years I have finally just noticed.
This passenger was quietly hiding behind all the others, and now that all the other noisier ones have quietened down, sat back in their seats, returned to their knitting and picking their noses, I noticed that I don’t trust myself.
It is saying 'do not trust yourself'. The minute I split a note, garble a passage, flub a fingering, I get sucked through the trap door under my feet. Sucks you right into it, down into the depths. You are in the stinky slimy swampy stuff before you have time to breath.
Why do I not trust myself? Have I made the mistake of trusting myself in the past, and it went pear shaped? Or this just another symptom of anxiety? Is my anxiety telling me not to trust myself?
Do I need more courage to trust myself? Do I need to strengthen these muscles too? How do I do this?
Listening to my natural musicality that has always been there? And learn to trust it?
Fall backwards into it's arms?
This passenger is a virtuoso at whipping the rug out from under you.