on the true nature of being

I'd forgotten to write about this when it happened, but I think about it enough that I think I will write it now.

My mom was getting ready to play a concert a few weeks ago and so was practicing daily which had been a rarity what with the holidays and things happening. After about 3 or 4 days of practicing in a row, she was taking a break in the living room when I walked in and she commented to me:
"I finally feel like a real person today! I mean, a real person who plays the violin. I mean, a real violinist."

I think she was self-correcting her errors but when I think about it, that's the order I hope to perceive myself in, too. I'd rather be a real person over a 'real teacher' or an 'real artist' any day.