The Pathway Between Contradicting Worlds

Claire Arias-Kim

Being a musician is a life that many cannot fully comprehend without living it to the full extent themselves. It is a life in which one is consumed with hardship, and all the conflicting emotions that are capable of ravaging one’s mind and sending that individual into complete distress. At times, I found myself faced with the challenge of distinguishing the difference between my music life, and the whole other part of my life that seemingly existed.

From the beginning, I went to school like any other kid. I enjoyed the community that was offered to me within my fellow peers and made some lifelong friends along the way. From learning the alphabet, to learning how to write, to learning how to eventually write in cursive in third grade, school offered me a safe haven of personal growth. In addition to the learning environment that I was provided at school, I was also forever accompanied by the everlasting musical experiences that playing the violin gave me. Every concert, rehearsal, and relationship formed, were brought to my life by the power I had to express myself through music.

Although I considered my school life and music life to both bring me much joy and pleasure, it was indisputable that music was the more important of the two. Although I made some wonderful connections with the students and teachers that I met through my academic studies, it was the expression in music that allowed me to feel most connected with the world.

As I approached middle school, things began to change. My once manageable class schedule became overwhelmingly busy and left me an insufficient amount of time to practice my instrument. It was during this time that I made the choice to drop out of most of my classes and homeschool the ones with heavy workloads.

When high school hit, this is really when my disappearance from school began. I homeschooled most of my classes and took no electives in order to maximize my time in the practice room. It was during this time that my school friends and I barely saw each other. There were multiple occasions in which my friends would ask to get together outside of school, and I would have to politely decline while in the midst of preparing for an upcoming competition or performance.

“Sorry, I can’t,” was a phrase I became overly adjusted to when responding to an invitation to go out with people. Eventually, a lot of my friends became frustrated with my situation, which in the beginning, I could not understand their lack of sympathy. It was so perfectly clear to me why I had been giving up a good chunk of my social life for the one thing that mattered to me most. I struggled to understand how anyone saw this differently.

As time went on, I only found it only harder to stay connected with certain people, but I didn’t pay much mind to the fact. At this point, I was so engrossed in achieving what I wanted out of the violin that the world around me began to fade. I attached all my value and all my self-worth to my playing. It became difficult for me to step outside the practice room, and see myself in light that didn’t have anything to do with success or accomplishments.

I should have known that this was no way of thinking. It was like I was stuck in a middle ground between the life I lived in terms of my pursuit, and the life I lived outside the practice room. I felt as though I was constantly being tugged at either end. During the times that I became very frustrated when not achieving what I desired out of the violin, I would forget that there was more to life than playing all the right notes. Most of the time, I would find it hard to be happy when constantly being frustrated with my violin playing. The life I lived in, and outside the practice room did not coexist peacefully. I started to think that I could never be the happy vibrant person I used to be without harnessing every failure and success I experienced on the violin.

Although I lost some friendships along this journey, it was the ones who stuck by me that served as a reminder of the life I lived outside of my pursuit. When I spent quality with those who were closest to me, I was able to remember my real self-worth that wasn't tied to superficial success to a certain extent. I was able to remember the person I was without being tied down by the pressure to be great in my pursuit.

Ironically, it was during the time that I became most disconnected with the world around me that I found those who were closest to me which were the people that never left my side. It was these kinds of close relationships that served as a bridge between the two conflicting lives that I lived, in, and outside of my pursuit.