Dear Friends,
The past couple weeks, I’ve been “coming down” from several incredible flute intensives, which happened to take place back to back. Those focused educational days transformed my attitude towards flute playing. The finances, energy, and time I put into preparing for and participating in those intensives paid off, building confidence in myself as a flutist. Self-doubt, however, creeps in more and more as time passes after intensely inspirational educational experiences. I thought about this at length throughout the two intensives, anticipating a lull in motivation upon my return. It’s common to be drained after traveling, let alone to two consecutive conferences. I knew I’d be exhausted, which might hinder my willingness to practice flute. Fighting off lack of energy towards practicing is a feat for me, and I’ve latched onto the concept of diligence the past several weeks to help me do so. Bear with me as I share some of the tough love I’ve been living by.
Two weeks ago at Carnegie Mellon University, I had the privilege of learning from many great pedagogues of the flute. I played for several teachers, including Alberto Almarza, a detail-oriented teacher and player who has an incredible understanding of the sonic capabilities of our instrument. During one of the collaborative lectures mid-week, Professor Almarza put a crucial “life lesson” into phraseology that was new to me: when we lack motivation, we must rely on diligence.
If you’re as current on self-help ideology as I am, this isn’t news. But… diligence isn’t always habitual-- at least for me. Where is the disconnect? I WANT to be motivated to practice all of the time, and for diligence to fill in gaps in motivation automatically. I want endless energy to supply my body with breath and movement to create sound through my instrument. I want to transcend the realities of physical and mental fatigue, trusting my art to revitalize and energize me. I desire proficiency on this instrument so badly; I’d expect minimal resistance to leaning into the detail-oriented work of becoming a skilled flutist.
Unfortunately, this is not the case. Most days, my energy is sapped by work or travel and picking my flute up to practice is the last thing I want to do. I’m left frustrated and disappointed. Over time, this develops a habitual response to the idea of practicing which is generally negative, restricting the joy in making music. I’ve found that a sort of “tiered” diligence is necessary to inform good practice habits.
“What the heck do you mean by that, Ariel?”
Essentially, I’ve discovered that I must be diligent in almost all areas of life in order to be musically diligent. Combatting lackadaisical lifestyle patterns is an ongoing battle, which I intend to win each day. Some days, I’m successful; others, I’m not—and have grace with myself. But my intent is optimistic, focused and determined, while my plans remain malleable should I need to adjust.
I recognize several factors which contribute to the inverse relationship between my energy level, and my resistance to practicing. One is fear, of course: what if I can’t get this passage under my fingers? What if I’m unable to perform this piece to the standard I desire? What if people don’t agree with a musical interpretation I have chosen to spend hours rehearsing? In some ways, it feels “safer” to qualify myself as a “student” or “developing” musician. It’s safer to provide disclaimers for my work, as a safety net. It’s easier to receive criticism when I know I could have performed better, been better prepared, or changed any number of factors (which ultimately become irrelevant in cases of inadequate preparation, anyway).
What does that fear do for me? Nothing positive, I know this much. I’ve spent many hours tackling fear related to performance (you can read more about one of those methods in last week’s blog if you haven’t already seen it). The ongoing process of debasing fears that my mind has constructed requires mental and emotional diligence.
A second factor is exhaustion, as I’ve mentioned. It’s well-known that sleep, diet and lifestyle are crucial to creating a high quality of life, and this applies to the quality of musical practice as much as it does life in general. If our bodies are not in prime condition, how can we be expected to perform detailed, complex, multi-faceted tasks to a high level of excellence? I’m not always on top of my game in every single one of these areas, but I strive for consistency in the healthy standards I set for myself. Once again, diligence is required. Many days, I don’t want to exercise because I’m drained after work or chores or practicing. But when I’m in a consistent routine of physical activity, I have more energy day to day, and feel better mentally and emotionally. The story is the same with cooking healthy meals, completing housework proactively, and any other general lifestyle practices that influence my mood and energy levels. I feel much more energized when I’ve been diligent in these parts of my life.
A big factor for me is balancing social activities with work activities. Socialization is the only effective way to prevent feelings of isolation, and my social network is incredibly important to my happiness and ability to function day to day. Tipping the scale the other way, however, is also dangerous: over-social periods of time in my life leave me exhausted and unable to focus on the things I need to accomplish, including playing the flute or tidying up. Creating space for rest on my own is as important as connecting with others; maintaining a balance requires focused intentionality.
Only when I’ve developed healthy routines in these basic areas (caring for my body and mind, tackling my self doubt and fear, practicing diligence in my whole life), do I find it easy to approach practice sessions with a positive attitude whether I am motivated or not.
I want to stress that I do not advocate for regimented, militaristic adherence to one’s plans, schedule, or “to-do list”. Balance and flexibility is key; we should constantly listen to our bodies and minds and evaluate whether we need a moment to rest and recharge before diving back in to practice, exercise, etc. Goals can be achieved over time if we are able to have grace with our timelines when absolutely necessary, leaving expectations and definitions of success malleable. We are ever-changing beings; our goals can reflect that even while we remain driven. Progress and learning is always the goal.
I encourage you to evaluate how your chosen lifestyle impacts your ability to focus on the daily activities that are meaningful to you. How might you practice diligence in one area of your life, to improve your quality of life in other areas?
Cheers to learning.
Ariel