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My great uncle's violin,
My great uncle is a most peculiar man. A man with years of wisdom an experience he is, but also a man with a great deal of intricacies and oddities hidden away in his personality, waiting for their moment to shine through. And perhaps no other aspect of his personality made them shine the most than his love of playing the violin. And what a lovely instrument he had. Crafted by an amazingly skilled pair of hand whose owner’s identity will perhaps always remain a mystery to me, showing that immaculate precision and care clearly went into its creation. It produced rich, beautiful tones whenever a bow was dragged across its strings. It was a shame, then, that my great uncle was not particularly good. But therein lied the question: why? Why keep going past the point where it’s clear he wasn’t getting any better? It wasn’t money, it certainly wasn’t fame, he himself knew he wasn’t the best. But it wasn’t until after years after he stopped playing that violin (with him citing “boredom” as the cause) that a realization came to me. Here was a man who lived life to its fullest, a man who never acted with the simple intent to prove anything to anybody. Here was a man who acted simply because, whatever it was he chose to do, he loved doing to the purest sense of the word, regardless of what even his own wife thought of his skill. It makes one wonder; do I truly love what I do? Who am I trying to impress? Why do I let simple, useless opinions stop me fro pursuing my passions?
My great uncle has not played that violin for quite some time now, and even though I was among those that gave useless opinions, sometimes, I yearn to hear him play.
