Other People's Keys

Keys of Failure and Success and Hope

Dear unknown Beth

I’m rather at a loss how to start this.  Quite some time ago now, I read your blog asking for other people’s keys.  I absolutely loved the idea of collecting the keys— so full of symbols!— and stories of complete strangers.

That day, I decided to send you my keys of Failure and with them my (tearful, rather childish) story of how I failed to learn playing the cello.  Then life when on, and I met people, making a new friend (a rare thing for me); and she fully understood and convinced me it’s not easy to keep practicing a difficult instrument, especially as a full-time student, and made me go on.

That day, I decided to send you my keys of Success.  Again, life went on, and I never got around to actually writing this letter.  I write it today though, not because of my struggle with music that I’ve found out will probably never end, and that’s o.k.  It’s o.k. (you probably taught me that.)  I will practice and I won’t practice, and if I can keep a balance to these phases, it will be alright.

I write this now to take my mind off tomorrow.  This side of the globe, that’s a Monday; and I’ll start my secure job in a huge library in the department of medieval manuscripts and early printings.  I’m studying this stuff, and I love old books, so it should be heaven.  But I’m a bit scared, too.  No, that’s wrong.  I’m completely, utterly terrified.

I’ve never worked at such a place, and I’m bad with people and unfamiliar surroundings.  I’m afraid at doing mistakes and embarassing myself.  And I wonder if this feeling ever stops?  I’ve turned 22 last week, still living at home, never worked at a serious place.  My heart is racing when I think about tomorrow, and I know it will be worse when I’ll be there, it will be horrible, sweaty palms, thumping heart, tiny voice, trembling hands. Every step on my way up those huge stairs, I will wish to just be home again.

But, and that’s basically why I write to you, why I’m telling you this (and not, say, call my best friend and open my heart to her), somehow thinking of you and all your second family of artists out there makes me feel better.  It makes me feel better to know that it’s normal to make mistakes, that this doesn’t go away, miraculously, when you grow up.  It makes me feel better to know that I can always turn around again in my life and choose a radically different way.  I can don fancy clothes and become a librarian, or I can cut my hair, dye it pink and turquoise again and sell my own fashion line.  Or do something else instead, like write all those unfinished novels and live on a houseboat in Amsterdam.

I know I can do this because you showed me it’s possible.

And so… I’m sending you the keys of Self-doubt and Fear and Hope.  They’re the keys to my cello case, which I’ve never locked.  Turn them into something beautiful.

xxx

Deike

July 20th 2009