Today I heard a story about a deep sea diver who had a scary run-in with a shark. She had been bitten severely, but was recovering remarkably well. When she returned to her diving buddies they all asked to see the gnarly scar, and she sadly confessed it had healed really well; it was now just a small faint line. Everybody was so disappointed.
My viola is no big scary shark, but I have a few tiny war wounds myself, and I think I understand the scar-hungry-divers just a little bit. My fingers are calloused, my arm muscles bear a strange asymmetry, and my neck has the string player’s trademark “hickey,” a red mark that means I’ve been practicing plenty. To others these “war wounds” may be flaws, but to me they are the little signs that this is what I do and that lately I’m doing it enough. I’m going to wear my callouses (etc.) with pride and keep practicing.