Thanksgiving Post

With the Thanksgiving holiday coming up soon, I want to take the time to mention some things about my flute playing experience that I am thankful for this semester:

I am thankful for...

*the ability to come to OSU at all. Without the help of my assistantship, I wouldn't have been able to afford to study for my masters degree right now.

*the opportunity to learn from someone new. It is always good to hear information told in a new way.

*the music students here. There are many intelligent, talented, and dedicated young musicians here.

*the transformation my tone has begun to take this semester. I finally have developed my "home base" sound, something I have been striving after for years. The new goal is discovering ways to vary the color of that base sound.

*drastic technique improvements. I picked up a piece of music yesterday and realized the notes weren't a huge obstacle. I've had maybe 3 practice sessions on the piece, and the notes are mostly there. The same piece would have scared me away a year or so ago.

*piccolo excerpts! I have never studied them before, but diving in has definitely made me a better piccoloist.

*learning how to practice. I used to play, get frustrated, and leave the practice room in a bad mood frequently. I notice I have more tools in my belt to use and have more good practice days.

*fantastic ensembles. The large ensembles here are wonderful.

*teaching. I always love helping other people.

*a better trained ear. I thought my ear was pretty well developed during my undergrad, but I hear things in much higher detail now. It is like I am beginning to truly hear music for the first time.

Some of the things I am thankful for are much deeper than mere practice discoveries. I am learning more and more that I am here for something much more profound than learning the intricacies of an instrument. I am here on a journey of self-discovery. I am getting to know myself and understanding what has made me "tick" as a person. I am learning what has made me afraid to perform and what I can do to change the neural pathways to more positive thoughts, attitudes, and beliefs.

The more I learn about myself, and the more positive thoughts I foster within myself, the more I get a feeling that this is all bigger than me. I have a sense that I am meant to untangle obstacles I once accepted as truths and restructure myself so I will be able to help someone else someday. I keep hearing an inner voice that says, "Someone out there needs my help, and I will need the skills I am learning for myself in order to help that person when they need it."

I would like to end with a word of gratitude to YOU! I have received meaningful messages of support from readers of my blog telling me that my words encourage them. These messages have been largely unexpected, but very much appreciated. They uplift me and remind me that the work being done here is bigger than me and valuable. So thank you, thank you, thank you!

Happy Thanksgiving to all. Find gratitude and peace in the joyous moments, the confusing moments, the easy and difficult moments. There is work being done in every occurrence in life. We just have to take a step back and look at it all in a new way. :)

Practice Days of Rest?

Opinions on "days off" in the music world are varied. I still haven't settled on a concrete way that I gauge my practice v. non-practice time. Some people swear by practicing every day, others need time off. How does one know when it's time to push through a low-energy day or when it is time to truly rest?

I haven't fully gauged the answer to that question, but I definitely have been doing some thinking on the topic. Some musicians (myself included) feel compelled to practice because there is a creeping sense of guilt about not practicing every day. After all, perhaps someone across the country is putting in 6 hours every day on their solid 14k gold flute while I take a day off of my sterling silver one. Maybe if I take a day off, that will be the "edge" someone else needs to "become better" than me.

It is easy to fall into flawed thinking about this topic, when really, everyone's body and mental stamina are different. When I think about the internal pressure I feel to constantly practice, part of me wants to go to the practice room, no matter the time of day or how my body feels. Lately, some running memories have trickled across my mind, and these have put me a bit at ease about taking a day of rest:

I was a freshman in college. It was my first year of doing the year-round, long distance training thing. In high school, I never ran cross country, so it was volleyball and basketball until track rolled around. I adored track (and still love the concept). In college, coach would email the team weekly spreadsheets of workouts. I noticed that my mileage was a lot lower than others on the team. Every Sunday, he has the 5k-type runners doing 3-5 mile "easy" days, while my training plan said "0". In my head, I wasn't doing enough work, so I started going on 3 mile runs every Sunday, no matter what my training plan said. It seemed innocent enough - 3 miles was a drop in the bucket compared to the week of workouts and 8-10 mile long runs. 

However, what I didn't take into account was my running background and body type. In high school, my longest training run at once was 2 miles. My high school coach trained me like a sprinter, with 200s and 400s being key workouts. I was built as a middle distance runner - someone who can run decently fast for between 800-1600 meters. Anytime I pushed my mileage too high, I would end up with my trademark injury: tendonitis. Tendonitis wasn't anything too serious, but always put me out of commission for a couple days.

The truth is, I would have been a lot better off by taking the day of rest. Eventually, I did learn that my  body was designed to train hard during the week - as long as I let it recover. I wasn't made to run 70 mile weeks. When I finally learned this, my workouts and races became more successful, because I gave my body time to heal and be prepared for those sharp bursts of energy on the track or cross country course. 

It is easy to look at those around us and say, "They practice X amount of hours X amount of days, so I should, too." But I am learning that my body isn't someone else's. It is designed to give me the energy it needs to learn if I allow it to do so. Pushing my body and mind past this point will lead to deteriorating practice sessions in terms of focus and quality.

Yesterday, I took a day off. All kinds of thoughts jumped through my mind, like "You're a graduate student - you should be practicing way more!" I ended up feeling a twinge of guilt inside for most of the day. Yet, when I woke up today, I noticed my body felt different. The pain I have been having in my shoulders, neck, and arms is gone. It turns out my body really did need that rest. 

I believe I have learned the difference between taking time off practice simply because I am frustrated with a perceived lack of progress and taking time off because my body is legitimately tired. I encourage my readership to pay attention to your own body and mind. Learn to monitor your own energy levels and find the amount of practice that works for you. Consider your practice time not in hours, but in quality of work accomplished. For me, this leads to a greater sense of achievement than comparing t practice time to someone else and pushing myself beyond my limits. Be a good coach to yourself!

Happy practicing! :)

The "Flute Win" Book

This past week has definitely been on filled with learning experiences. I found out the results from two competitions, neither of which I won. My first (and natural) reaction to these events is to be terribly disappointed. It is difficult to invest your heart into something and then have someone tell you, "No."

However, the difference between now and when I have previously been declined from auditions and competitions is that there is another voice fighting for its say within me. It is saying, "Wait a minute...something isn't right here."

I performed in this same competition one year ago. I remember not sleeping the night before, tossing and turning in bed because I was so nervous. I got out on the stage and felt terrible. For 30 minutes, I didn't feel like I was performing at all, but simply trying not to panic. After that competition, I felt so terrible about myself and my playing that it was difficult to get myself to play at all. I took my graduate school auditions in January and hardly touched my flute until April.

This year, I was nervous, but it wasn't a crippling nervous. It caused a couple stumbles early on, but I still feel like I got my message across. I even performed a piece from memory without slips! Instead of my comment sheets being filled with details like intonation and technical problems, I actually received a lot of compliments. Simply receiving comments to improve more "mature" musical aspects like phrasing is definitely a step forward.

I have been doing quite a bit of reflecting since on what causes ebbs and flows in my desire to practice and my perception of myself as a player. I realize I have been taking most of my feedback from other people and treating it as face-value truth. In the music world, compliments are rare and like diamonds: musicians treasure them when we get them! No wonder I sometimes feel like I am not a very good player! I play, fishing for those compliments and competition wins; in the meantime, I never stop to check my own experience.

The truth is, no one knows my musical journey except for me. A judge who listens to me play for 30 minutes doesn't know that I grew up 140 miles from the nearest professional flutist, that I didn't take a single flute lesson until I was 16, that the only "flute literature" I played before college was a Handel sonata and part of a Mozart flute concerto, that I didn't know how to play my minor scales until I came to college,  and that I didn't own a professional model flute until three years ago. The judge doesn't see my performance anxiety struggles I've gone through, and all the help I have sought out to finally see some freedom in my performances. No one knows the hard work I had to put in the last couple years to improve as much as I have: except me.

I don't expect anyone listening to me to care about any of these things. However, I need to remember and give myself credit for my progress. If I wait for others to give me a "good job," I will probably be waiting quite a long time.

As I was thinking about these things yesterday, I had a sudden desire to go to the bookstore. I wanted to buy a new practice journal. I have one already, but as I thought about it, it is filled more with things to pay attention to and practice than credit for the many improvements I make along the way. I am very detail oriented and good at hearing the things I am doing incorrectly; yet, I often forget what I am doing well.

I bought what I am calling the "flute win" book. In this journal, nothing but positive thoughts can be written. As I fill this book with positive thoughts, I can continually go back and see the positive progress I have made along the way. This is not meant to be some sort of self-gloating exercise, but simply one of credit - the credit that only I can give to myself. Instead of waiting for a competition or audition win, I can track the small "flute wins" that happen on a daily basis, small improvements that are easy to gloss over in a desire to be better.

My "Flute Win" practice journal.

I want to have a happy, fulfilling life in music, and it starts by speaking kind words to myself.

Happy practicing!