I don’t usually trust people’s accounts of my talents. There’s too much reason for people to get distorted opinions of them, and to pass those distortions on when describing them to me. But when I was six years old, I fell in love with the violin. For real, not because anyone made me. You normally started violin at nine at that school, there were no other six-year-olds playing any instrument. And I was the only six-year-old in the junior high orchestra. I’m glad I was oblivious enough not to understand that it even was the junior high orchestra. Later, I am sure this contributed to my label of idiot savant. But at any rate, until circumstances changed, violin was my thing, despite the amount of physical effort it took to play at all. And there’s enough fairly objective information to tell me that I was unusually good at this, at this age.
What happens in my head is cello music.
A lot of the time, there is elaborate cello music interweaving itself with everything I experience.
Not just one cello, but many cellos, doing complicated reactions and interactions with each other.
I can’t play cello. My hands are barely big enough to handle violin or viola and it’s just to heavy these days too. You’ll never hear even one strand of these songs.
I also lack the background in music theory to be able to analyze or write down this music, especially since I am feeling and hearing it fully formed and in all its complexity (or simplicity as the case may be).
I am sure someone would call me idiot savant all over again if I were able to articulate this cello music in a way others could hear, but this is why I have said that not all savant abilities are visible from the outside. And they don’t need to be.
So this is music only I will ever feel or hear. It’s fully formed, it adapts itself to every situation, and it is often elaborate. It’s beautiful. When it’s happening, it springs from everything that happens and acts like a soundtrack to every part of life. It interweaves itself into everything, and springs fully formed as if it was already interwoven
But I lack the skills necessary to even begin to share it with anyone.
So I will just say: It’s there. You will never hear it, you will never see it written, and it is there. It is there. It is there. Some things are like that. Some things may never form in the full way people want. But they’re still there and they still matter.