Retrieving Recovery

Chewie was about four or five months old the first time I rolled a ball across the patio in front of him.  His shiny wavy black coat, long floppy ears, soft mouth and awkward high lifting puppy  paw trot were adorable.   As the ball rolled by his nose I watched him stand-up quickly and lean toward the ball.  He looked at the ball and paused with his over sized paw in the air - his instinct was pushing his body.  I will never forget the look on his face as his legs kind of left his cognition behind and moved toward the ball.  And when he reached the ball and picked it up he stood for a few seconds not quite satisfied and then he trotted over to me and dropped it.  I swear I almost heard a click as his brain and body slid into sync like a combination lock.   He was a retriever.  It was as if he waited for his body to make the moves and then his brain put together what he was doing.  He was born to retrieve.

For as long as I can remember I could read treble and bass clefs.  I read them as easily as I could read a book.  As a kid I always found my center on the piano bench.  The relaxed looseness in my wrist and strength of my forearms and muscles in my hands were natural.  No one had to tell me to sit up straight.   I just did it.  My hands knew how to slip a thumb under my fingers without lifting my hand up, or to throw my hand over my thumb to be in position for the last half of a scale or run.  My forearms never dipped below my wrists but stayed strong and steady.

I think the first song I ever played on the piano was a duet with my mom.  She taught me “Heart and Soul”  probably before  I could read words or music.  Everyone learns the song eventually.  In that simple song were the basics of so many songs - I IV V - a melody and chord structure to support it.   

I understood the concept of a key signature and a time signature and the circle of 5th’s way before I understood long division.  As a kid I loved music theory and it was easy because it was interesting to me.  Wholes steps and half steps and scales and chords and maps filled with symbols for sounds.  I ate that stuff up.  Sharps and flats never confused me. 

In college I took an intensive music drawing class.  I learned how to line a page, how to draw notes and space notes/rests in a measure.  I studied the importance of how to draw so an musician’s eye and brain can translate to the hand efficiently.  I understood that the story of music needed to include a plan to make a page change smoothly for the musician - I learned the nuances of french music drawing - rounder notes and heavier stems.  I studied handwritten music and loved digging through my grandparents music to find examples of music that had been drawn by hand before being copied.   I am dominantly right handed.  I am not able to write letters well with my left hand but I am able to draw music symbols with my left hand.  It is another level of retrieving.

When Chewie was doing agility I often used a ball to reward him.  If something was a particularly difficult I would pull out his ball and throw it to remind him of his confidence and to ground him.  As we started nose work I used a ball to reward him for finding odor. 

These days, with his hip and knee I have to be careful about how I throw the ball.  I keep it low to the ground and hold him in a stay until the ball stops.  Then I release him to run to it.  He avoids the jolting and sharp turning of serious ball play this way.  He does not avoid the smile or the excitement or the right with the world howl when I hang on to him and he cannot leave my side for the ball.  He is a retrieve, he loves to retrieve.  The world is right if he can retrieve  - it unlocks and unwinds all his self doubt.  This he knows how to do.  

This too is true of how I start back into the business of being social.  I question myself at every turn.  I wonder about every conversation.  I believe no compliment.  I am suspicious of any depth and almost cringe at kindness.   I spin in circles like Gromit caught in converging odors.  I might need to interrupt the convergence.  I need to find my confidence again.

As I look to feel my feet on the ground, stop racing thoughts, pull back from the world to breathe and build some semblance of confidence back - I remember and see the piano more often.   I don’t just dust it.  There is music on it again.  My fingers are slower, some arthritis has set in.   I can’t sight read as easily and without a lot of effort the music is too hard…I have questions and no teacher to help me answer them. 

I might need to remember to start with a treble clef and a bass clef and not worry how far the ball goes, or how high I can jump to catch it in the air.   I might need to hold myself back and play what comes easily for a while.  Start with finding middle c, sitting straight up on the bench.   I might need to let my fingers lead the way and not my self judgement.