Joy comes in Eights

I have been learning to play the mandolin for over 8 years. I feel I'm a pretty competent player and overall I'm pleased with my progress. My mandolin is a great little instrument that has served me well. However, being an entry level instrument it's not what's referred to as a "banjo-killer". Regardless, I like its tone and feel blessed to have it.

The other night while my wife was at work and the kids were put to bed I did like I normally do and pulled out my binder of music, my mando, and settled in to pick for awhile. It was one of those nights where all the hard work you put in prior seems to really pay off. My playing felt fluid; my left hand glided above the fretboard. My pick brushed across the 8 strings with such ease that there was a true joy and abandonment in my playing that night. Looking back now I should not have been surprised by what happen next.

I got up from the couch to go grab something from the other room and proceeded to pick along the way. When I got to my destination I paused and finished up the passage I was playing, and there it was. Something that had never been there before. Upon my torso I could feel the vibration of the music I was making.

It might seem insignificant. After all sound is vibrations that travel through the air. For guitar players this commonplace, a large box that allows a large amount of air to move. But with the small body of a mando, especially an entry level one, the vibrations are barely noticeable. Not on this night.

I kid you not when I say a huge grin the size of Omaha filled by face. All alone in my front-room I continued to play, gradually intensifying my attack as the vibrations that had begun in my belly spread throughout my entire body.

I stood there for next twenty minutes reveling in the music I was making and the air I was displacing.