Artistic Freedom

I am a forward-thinking person. I am always dreaming about new possibilities and potential. Often, I don't take the time to stop and reflect on the great things that are happening in my life. I gather what I can improve upon, which is good, but I forget to allow myself to enjoy the success.

Before I move onto the next thing, this time, I'm going to stop.

I'm going to celebrate what is perhaps the greatest musical victory I have ever reached.

I played my masters recital this past weekend.

But that isn't the victory.

The victory is that I was comfortable.

I love playing the flute. I wouldn't have come this far without loving the instrument. But, performing has never really been easy for me. I have had performance anxiety ranging in severity from fairly mild, to trembling lips, to near panic attacks.

In the last year, I have finally sought help for this struggle so the music within can come out. Introspection is valuable.

Before my recital the other day, I waited for the symptoms of performance anxiety to come : the pounding heart, the dry mouth, and the dangerous-for-flute-playing constriction of the chest.

They didn't come.

In the middle of my recital, I was playing the Mozart Andante in C Major, and time stopped. The music seemed to transport me into another dimension, where only the flowing sound and clarity of emotion existed. It was the flow state that I have been seeking for a long time.

Mozart, Andante in C

This comfort was a welcome feeling. It allowed the ideas I've been storing up to flow more freely. It opened up the sound.

While there were plenty of critiques I had about the recital and things to improve upon, I am happy to unlock my musical freedom.

With this freedom, the world is open.

My First Professional Orchestra Audition

Auditions.

This word has always scared me a bit. Even reading the word gives me a little pump of adrenaline, thinking about playing for evaluation. Yet, the idea of auditions has also always intrigued me. What can I do under pressure?

This summer, I decided to apply for a nearby orchestra audition, mostly because professional auditions are so far an untouched realm. I had some fear I needed to deal with. 

A week before my audition, I almost pulled out because my piccolo excerpts were not where I wanted them. I was imagining going into the audition room, starting, and stumbling all over my excerpts in embarrassment. 

Then, I centered and told myself, "Who cares if you stumble all over your excerpts? You're playing for a curtain. They don't know you and won't even remember who you are if you stumble. Go play anyway just to say you did!"

So I went. I showed up and checked in, surprisingly, in a parking garage underneath the performing arts center. I was directed to a warm up room with the other 18 flutists/piccoloists. ( You can imagine 19 piccolo players in one very echo-filled locker room! ) I brought my headphones in preparation for the mass warm up room and put them in. I switched between my favorite, relaxing Christian contemporary music, some tuning drones, and a metronome click. I had no control over anyone else's playing and wanted to stay centered in my own world. 

I was Flute #6 and soon enough, it was time for me to play: Brahms 4, Mendelssohn "Italian," Rossini Semiramide. Thankfully, the volunteers at auditions and competitions always seem to be friendly, with smiles on their faces that put me at ease. I played my excerpts, not perfectly. I walked out of the audition space feeling like the excerpts had gone not too bad, but not good enough to advance.

I sat outside the locker room space waiting for the results. Before the preliminaries had finished, the moderator came back and announced some finalists: "Flute 6." I had to ask again who she had said, and then processed it enough to realize, "I'm flute 6!" 

I sat around chatting with some flutists while we all waited on more results. I eventually wandered back into the acoustically live locker room to warm up for the next round. Before I knew it, the moderator came back and said, "It's time for the finals. You're first...are you ready?"

I answered, "Yes," and followed her back to the audition space.

"Flute 6...we liked your Rossini, but we would like to hear more dynamic contrast. Can you play the excerpt again, focusing on dynamic contrast and creating as beautiful a line as possible?"

I played the excerpt, and actually played a wrong fingering in the first measure because nerves got to me - oops! I just started over and played it fine. 

Next, the principal flute came from behind the curtain and we played Bartok Concerto for Orchestra and Prokofiev "Classical" Symphony. We played each excerpt twice, with me following her promptings of what she wanted me to do.

Again, I left feeling like I did not too bad considering it was my first audition. I looked around and realized there were only three flutists left, including myself. I was surprised! 

I didn't win the job, but I did get offered a substitute position with the symphony. I guess the moral of the story is, even if you are afraid to do something, just give it a try and do it anyway! The worst that happens is you make a few mistakes and leave with an experience. The best that happens is that you surprise yourself and go beyond your expectations. 

NFA 2014 in Review

I'm back in Oklahoma after a wonderful week at the 2014 National Flute Association convention. It's just after 4 P.M., and I haven't accomplished much besides walking across the street to buy a Diet Pepsi. A lot of great things happened this week, and it is a lot to process. The fact that I am an introvert also makes recovering from being around large crowds all week and performing in an almost full grand ballroom...

....25x as difficult as for your average extrovert.

I dug my flute out and noodled through a couple etudes a few hours ago...but I realized I needed to really sit, rest, and contemplate the many pieces of information I observed this week.

Chicago is a beautiful city...before even doing any flute playing, I went running through the fantastic parks and inspiring trail system that were just across the street from the Hilton. I believe that the best way to tour an area is to go for a run...you get places faster than walking, the endorphins are pumping, and imagination and awe levels spike. When I'm running in a new area, I have time to ponder, observe, smile, and dream in a way that I can't experience any other way.

I ran a total of almost 30 miles while in Chicago. I think I spent more time taking pictures on some of my runs than actually moving forward. The views of the skyline and the beach were particularly beautiful:

 

I have been to three NFA conventions, and this one was my favorite. I played in the Windy City Flute Orchestra just to see what it was like and to keep me playing some the first couple days. We had 225 flutists! I sat in the back (how often do flute players get to do that?!) next to an amazing alto flute section.

I didn't go to very many sessions on Thursday and Friday, as I was performing Saturday and needed to spend a little time practicing. On Thursday, I got my flute and piccolo adjusted and took a great and very informative flute lesson. I went to a session about choosing a research topic on Friday morning - I took a lot of notes! During the convention, I also attended a session about performance anxiety, watched presentations by the winners of the Graduate Research Competition, watched a masterclass taught by Maxence Larrieu, saw a couple recitals, and watched a great gala concerto concert.

My favorite performance was by Julien Beaudiment, principal flutist of the Los Angeles Philharmonic. He played the best interpretation of the Mozart Concerto in D Major that I have ever seen. His playing was virtuosic and natural. I wish I could adequately explain the quality of his performance, but words will not do it justice.

I was able to see one of my favorite people again, Helen Spielman. She has helped me become more positive through coaching sessions, and it was a joy to talk with her in person again:

Performing in the James Galway masterclass is something I will never forget. I was nervous, but was able to play and express myself well. He told me to play "Louder!," to use my vibrato more musically, and to not move quite so much. It was a blessing to meet and get advice from a man who has had such an amazing life.

I got Galway to sign my copy of his book after the class. He asked me where I studied, then looked me in the eyes with his Irish blue eyes and said, "Next time, it needs to be twice as loud." I told him I will definitely work on it!

It was also great to meet up with several of my other friends, chat, and take pictures! One of my friends, Vicki Williamson, happened to be assigned as my page turner for the masterclass!

I also reunited with a few Nebraska friends:

 

I had one of the best weeks of my life. I left feeling inspired and positive about my flute playing going forward. My new Miyazawa flute and I are going to spend a lot of quality time together. :)

Caffeine Withdrawal

I'm sipping hot chocolate in July. I'm in my air conditioned apartment, so that makes me sound a little less crazy.

It's Day 9 of my attempt to greatly reduce my caffeine intake. Yes, I know hot chocolate does have some caffeine, but the amount is negligible. Enjoying a mug of hot, delicious liquid is fooling my mind into thinking it's drinking coffee. Or that's the hope at least.

I would consider my relationship with Starbucks to be exciting, yet unhealthy. Starbucks lures me in with it's delicious flavors, welcoming environment, comfort, and coffee with more caffeine than any I've ever tasted.

However, too much of my favorite drink can cause jitters and lots of mental distraction. On the other hand, too little (AKA the mini-withdrawal) can cause fatigue and irritability. I theorize that eliminating caffeine almost entirely will, in the long run, cut the highs and lows of the caffeinated roller coaster to a normal energy level. The hope is that my practicing and performing will benefit as well.

The turning point was this: I was in a lesson with my previous teacher, and we were doing some tone work. I had been driving before this and wasn't expecting my visit to her house would mean "long tones." I had already drank a cup of coffee, a diet coke or two, and sipped another cup of coffee at her house. This meant that I was, in all effects, wired. I noticed it was difficult to control my embouchure, particularly my upper lip.

And that's when the switch went off...
"I bet quitting caffeine would help flute playing."

I was surprised how strong withdrawal symptoms were, even without going "cold turkey." I guess I did slash the caffeine rather quickly, eliminating coffee right away and going from my typical 4-500 mg to 200. The next day I had 160, then 120, 60, 30, 0.

The first few days, I was almost nonfunctional. All I wanted to do was sleep, I had a headache, and I couldn't focus on anything. Thankfully, I had a couple days off from work. One day, I shut myself in my bedroom with the lights off almost all day. I was irritable and didn't want to see anyone. (I did have my flute in my room with me, and picked it up a few times.) Somehow, I resisted by telling myself that life would be better on the other side - no more "jitters."

Running became quite difficult. The coveted "runner's high" that usually comes after a few miles of jogging was impossible. My body was so exhausted from this caffeine crash that excitement about anything wasn't happening.



I had the strangest "brain fog." When I returned to work, even the simplest of tasks required some in-depth thought to complete. The information was usually funneled through a caffeine-enhanced brain and was now short circuiting.

Around 5 days into the withdrawal, my left eyelid started twitching. I've never had this happen before, but I can only assume it was due to dehydration, the stress of eliminating an addictive substance, and fatigue.


9 days in, and I'm still sleeping 10-11 hours a night. I've heard it can take a month or more for the body to recover from all the stress that caffeine has put on it. Every day, I think about caving into the cravings, but I want to give it more time. Despite the side effects thus far, a few of the benefits are coming out: more calm, less anxious mind, no more jitters, amazing sleep.

I'll wait it out...even if that means hot chocolate in July.

The Present Moment

I woke up at 8 a.m. to rain beating against my window. I imagined myself out running, getting soaked, and potentially ruining my iPhone (that I use for GPS and motivating tunes) in the process. The image didn't sound appealing in the least. I rolled over and soon fell back asleep.

At 10:45 a.m., I was still in bed. The sound of rain had stopped, yet my motivation was still lacking. I have worked to develop a routine of running every morning after I wake up, however, so despite my still-groggy state, I pulled myself up.

I felt anxious. I reflected back to an event the day before that I had found upsetting. The situation was out of my control, yet I found myself ruminating over the injustice of it, and I was still trying to find solutions to an insolvable problem.

I stepped out the door. The rain had kept the climate cool, and it was a good day for running. Despite the good conditions, my brain was still wishing it was back in my cozy bed.

My mind soon got caught up in the lyrics to the song playing through my headphones. This separated me from my body further, and I was no longer present. A power song came on my music mix. I quickened the pace. It brought me back to my body somewhat.

I felt the arch of my right foot twinge. Ever since I tore the tendon two years ago, it has hurt from time to time. I thought back to that moment and knew tearing it again wasn't an experience I wanted to have a second time. 1.5 miles from my house, I turned around to get my achy foot home.

At 2 miles, I decided it was best to stop and walk. I had a mile to go.

And then I noticed why I had felt so on edge all morning.

I had disassociated myself from the present moment.

At 8 a.m., my mind had been in the future, in the rain.

At 10:45 a.m., my mind had been in the past, demotivated.

As I stepped out the door, my mind was caught up in the worries of yesterday.

At 1.5 miles, my mind was at the sports doctor's office, 2 years ago.

At 2 miles, my mind was in the future, anticipating another injury.

-------

I turned my music off and took out my headphones. I tuned into my mind and felt it, floating away to the distractions of the past and future. I realized that I was missing out on the most important part of my life - the present.

I started to tune into my surroundings. I looked around at the trees, the lake, the cars passing by, the ground beneath my feet, and tried to really see them. It was more difficult than I thought to come back to the here-and-now.

"The present moment," I said to myself.

And then,

"Tune into your senses."

I suddenly was able to feel my legs and feet as they touched the ground.

The most amazing thing was that I had been outside for 30 minutes, and only when I purposefully tuned into the present did I smell the fresh aroma of rain on the grass.

I had been missing out.

How many times do we miss the now and live in the past or future? I know I do a lot. Come to think about it, I would say 90% of the worry I feel in life comes from somewhere other than the present. I'll be practicing, but thinking about the competition months from now, or kick myself for not adequately practicing years ago.

I have never liked the question, "Where do you see yourself in 5, 10, etc. years?" In my opinion, all this question does is cause a person to live somewhere other than the present, which is the only moment upon which we can effect change. A better question would be to ask, "What are your goals? Dreams?" None of us can predict the future, but we can have a dedicated vision to work toward.

My new goal is to stay present, to check in with myself when I feel discomfort and ask...is this happening now? Or yesterday-tomorrow?

"I've only got one life to live: I'll live it now." -- Relient K, "Here I Go"

Goodbye, Flute. Goodbye, Teeth.

It's currently 1:35 A.M. I am hardly ever awake at this time of night. Usually, around 11 or so, I have zonked out into dreamland for the evening.

However, almost two days ago, I had wisdom teeth surgery. Full knock-ya-out anesthesia. Lots of pain medications to take home. Ever since, I've spent most of my time in bed.

Thankfully, I'm a bit of an anomaly and only had three wisdom teeth - two on top and one on bottom. This is a good thing, because the trouble teeth that normally cause people the most pain upon extraction are the bottom ones. This means that, post-sleep-all-I-want-alternating-with-Netflix-for-two-days, I am wide awake at an inconvenient time. After eating semi-solid food for the first time in a couple days (chicken pot pie, yes!), I sat down to work on my website, which I've finished! You can access it here: http://harrisbr2.wix.com/bhflute#!home/mainPage. I bought the domain name bhflute.com, but I found out (after purchasing it, argh...), that I can't transfer it to my website for 60 days. Yay. For now, the strange, non-memorable site name will have to do.

I am actually quite surprised at how quickly I seem to be recovering from wisdom teeth surgery. It's been less than two days, and my energy is coming back to me. My appetite came back earlier and I ate a lot of the soft food in my fridge! I haven't hurt too much...the strong pain pills the doctor gave me took care of the pain yesterday, and I don't have much today. I am hoping to be able to play my flute again within a couple more days!

Speaking of flute, I went to my first Texas Flute Society festival last weekend. I had the privilege of playing in a masterclass and observing the great amount of flute talent there is in Texas. I saw flutists from middle school on up who blew me away with their performances! It made me realize how much great talent there is in the world. The job of each individual is not to be "the best," but to take our unique strengths and use them for good. It is easy to forget this and instead, like I admittedly did for awhile, get overwhelmed by the large amount of talent and feel unimportant.

Jean-Pierre Rampal made a great point about this over-focus on competition when he said, "Nobody is the best. It is impossible to be 'the best.' You can be the best if you are a sportsman, but art cannot be measured. You cannot say, 'He is the best pianist, the best violinist in the world.' It's nonsense."

The last couple days of forced rest have helped me to work through this "small" feeling and realize that all of us are here for a reason. We may not know exactly what it is right away, but God lays it out, step-by-step, one day at a time. I remember a moment in which I really understood this idea. I was out jogging around the lake by my house one morning and took this picture of the sunrise:

Later, I summed up my thoughts about this moment with the following quote: "The size of the Universe should comfort us. It reminds us we are only a small part of a big plan. It also shows us God has our small part under control."

I have a very blessed life, and I am thankful.

Oh, you might be wondering about the "Goodbye, Flute" part of this post title. I left my flute in Texas to be completely overhauled. It never has been in its best playing condition since I bought it, as I got it used and never replaced its old Straubinger pads with new ones. The flute will be gone for 4-6 weeks but should play quite nicely when it returns. Until then, I have a little more teeth recovery to do before playing the studio flute until mine comes back from the shop, good as new.

It's now 2:19 A.M. I'm feeling pretty calm and content with life right now. Of course, that could be a combination of the late night time and the Vicodin the oral surgeon gave me to take. But that's another story...

Goodnight, world.

After the Finish Line

April was a really good month for me. I think at least part of that is due to how early spring arrives here in Oklahoma. I was surprised to see flowers by mid-April and full leaves by the end of the month. Spring temperatures, colors, and sunshine always revive me.

I played my first graduate recital on April 12th. It went better than any recital that I've ever played before. Although I have a long ways to go, and I still got nervous, it was definitely a big step in the right direction.

Soon after my recital, I discovered that I won a competition that allows me play at the National Flute Association convention in August. I first auditioned for this three years ago and didn't get in. This was one of my major goals for the year, so I was on pins and needles waiting for the results to come out. And I'm in!

At the end of April, I ran the Oklahoma City Half Marathon. I have been running 4-6 days a week since November. I started because I took significant time off running and discovered I missed it, and my physical and mental health both needed a nice endorphin boost! I finished the race...it was very tough! A rain delay held the race back by almost two hours. It was a warm, humid day...70 degrees, which is about my maximum tolerance level. I walked quite a bit, but still managed to finish in 1:46 (8:06 per mile). I got 14th out of 751 in my age group, so not too shabby!

On top of all of these fun things, I finished my 15 page term paper, turned in my final project for another class, finished up ensembles, and with all of this behind me, I am about to cross the finish line of my first year of graduate school.

This week, I found myself tired and demotivated in general. I thought it was just fatigue from the race, but it has continued throughout the week. I found myself berating myself, asking...what's wrong with me?...Why am I not using my time more wisely?...Why is practicing not fun?

I stepped back and stopped to think. This has happened many times to me before. In fact, summer is often a difficult season for me, as my structured schedule disappears. Usually I let the disarray occur and sit back, watching time go by.

Today, I thought about the end of the half marathon...the celebration...the feeling of accomplishment....and I realized I usually fail to plan the answer to an important question...

What happens AFTER the finish line?

I get so caught up in the process of working toward the goal that I forget there is life after the goal! I have to continue to make goals to strive for, otherwise, it is no surprise that I taper off and feel demotivated. I never really thought about this before, as my adrenaline junkie self would wait for the "right" goal and get consumed in the efforts of reaching it.

Life isn't a mountain after all.

It is more like a staircase to heaven. One goal = one step, not the end all. The staircase doesn't end in this lifetime. Continued goals are needed to keep moving forward.

I found this picture on Twitter not too long ago, and I found it inspiring:

Another thing that I tend to forget is that you can't sprint up a staircase and expect to last very long. Sometimes, you need to sit on the stair and think, process, evaluate, and rest. The brain needs to absorb the fruits of one goal before processing information in the next. In this fast-paced, workaholic society, it is easy to forget that down times are not only OK, but necessary. I couldn't run a marathon every week and expect my body to recover, so I don't know why I often expect my mind to constantly move forward and absorb new information before it's ready.

 It is often after these creative dry spells that I make a big jump in progress. I didn't stop learning during these times (like it felt like), but my brain connected the dots in the information so I was able to use it in a concrete way.

I'm going to take my white space and start painting on it. I spent $100 on new running gear. I'm going to buy new flute music. I'll write a new workout training plan. I'll set goals. And I'll come back strong.

When you hit the finish line, enjoy it. Savor every bit of hard work that went into reaching your goal. ALLOW YOURSELF TO RECOVER, even if that means feeling like the laziest person in the world for a week. Just don't stay there. Use the down time to create a new game plan. Dream about all the fresh possibilities waiting for you to discover. Find a new "finish line," keep it in perspective as just another step, and go chase it!

Perspective: Weeds or Flowers?

It's been quite some time since my last post...2 months, in fact. School sure has been busy. I've played my first professional gigs this semester, which had me out of town quite a bit. Preparing for a recital, working on my 15 page term paper (only 5 pages to go!), training for the Oklahoma City Half Marathon (April 27th, soon!), and traveling back to Nebraska for spring break have kept me plenty occupied.


I suppose, also, that March has never been an easy month for me. The intense weather shifts always throw off my mood. I find myself getting by, waiting for the clouds to lift and spring to come to me. Well, April is here, and the weather is gorgeous! We have gotten some 80 degree days already, which means summer will be a scorcher, but I'll take it!

Last week, while out running, I noticed that the grass was green again, trees were budding, and beautiful purple wildflowers were growing all over the side of the road. Check out the pictures:

These purple flowers really got me thinking about life in general. People around town have started planting gardens, with chosen flowers meticulously placed in flower beds. However, I found these purple flowers, scattered in a fragmented patchwork all over the side of the road, to be more beautiful than any of the carefully planned and designed gardens.

How often in our lives do we seek so much to have the organized, "perfect" garden that we miss out on the natural beauty that lies within us? We look around at others and think about all the things they have that we don't. Then, we wonder, "What's wrong with me that I don't have perfect rows of flowers, coordinated collages of colors, and a special place to display my work?"

I think about performing on my flute. I know I have definitely been guilty of wishing that I was great right now, and experienced the artist's struggle of wondering, "Will my art ever be good enough?"

I stop to think about the purple wildflowers.

These flowers may not be considered by the population at large to be "the best" flowers available. Their violet hues may not even be noticed by the people of Stillwater growing in large patches on the side of the road. But to me, they had great beauty...simply because they were being themselves, shining their vibrant purple colors in the mismatched patches, just waiting for the right person to notice.

The purple flowers were even more beautiful when mixed with the yellow of the dandelions. Dandelions, to many, are considered a weed, but here, they were the perfect complimentary accent to the purple wildflowers. I remember as a kid, picking dandelions and bringing these "flowers" inside to my mother because I thought they were beautiful. Over time, I learned these flowers were "weeds," not the gorgeous flowers I originally perceived them to be.

What happened?

I believe the internal beauty of the dandelions never changed. What did?

My perspective!

I think all of us start learning music with this sense of childlike wonder, with a belief that possibilities are endless and a drive to create beautiful sounds.

Then, we encounter some setbacks. We make mistakes. We receive criticism. We look at the great performers and see the gap. And we start to believe that perhaps, our music is more weed than flower.

Change takes much patient work. Introspection, positive thinking, and of course, continual practice, both with the instrument and with the mind can help us recover our childlike love for creating. What is beautiful? Musicians, all of us, work hard, day in and day out, to become the best that we can be. We grow. Once we notice our own value as artists/musicians/humans, that is when the true blossoming begins.

And once we notice our own hidden patchwork of beauty, the colors will shine ever more vibrantly. Others will notice the bright colors and stop to listen, to question, "What makes this so beautiful?"
Faith, motivation, inspiration, and a perspective shift lets the internal beauty that always existed shine out.

~"Consider the flowers, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, but I say unto you, not even Solomon in all his glory was clothed as one of these."~ Luke 12:27

The Energy Tank

It has been awhile since my last blog post. In the last month, school has started up, and everything has been going at hyper-speed ever since. Throughout this time, several topics I could write about have come to mind, but in the silence of a Saturday morning, one won out.

Sleep.

That's right - sleep. I know that, in the hot pursuit of a goal, sleep isn't at the forefront of the mind. Hard work, practice, perseverance - these qualities are. Rest is often considered somewhat of an afterthought. In our fast-paced world, it is work hard to get ahead or get left behind. Tired? Grab a large Starbucks latte and force your body to work off caffeine and four hours of sleep.

I always have been puzzled when fellow college students have told me over the years, "I went to bed at  2, and here I am for my 8 a.m. class.....sighhhhh." An occasion of this won't diminish health or productivity severely, but I saw people do this day after day after day. Me? One night of less than 6 hours of sleep, and I'm grouchy, irritable, unfocused, unable to produce my best work. To work at my best, I have found that I need as close to 8 hours of sleep as possible!

I was listening to a motivational speech on YouTube by Les Brown while driving yesterday. He reflected on his life, and he said that he kept a quote in mind while trying to live up to his life potential: "Live full. Die empty." I thought about this quote and also about the fast-paced quality of society. What does it take to "Live full?" Surely, to work hard at your goals, but another question crossed my mind.

How do we keep the energy tank of life full?

As stated before, I have had a month of craziness. The first week of school, I began recording for competitions, which I didn't finish until last week. I played in the opera pit last week every night. I also was contracted for my first professional gig that required a 6 hour round trip of driving on consecutive days (with a 4 a.m. wake up time!). Stack the normal TA workload and my own classes / practicing / attempting to breathe on top of that, and I found a gradual shift in my energy levels.

Adrenaline was able to take me through my final competition on February 8th, but the week after, I noticed a decline. My playing, which was at the peak of my life just a week before, was suddenly diminished. People looked at me with confusion...what was going on? I was wondering the same thing! I couldn't have lost playing ability within such a short amount of time.

Yesterday, I got home at 3 p.m. from another gig that had me awake at 4 a.m. I went to sleep, with full intentions of waking up in an hour and doing some practicing. Before I knew it, it was 7 p.m. I ended up being tired again by 11 and going back to sleep.

This morning, I woke up at 9 a.m. and was thankful for a silent Saturday morning. My mind has opened back up, and I am ready to go back to practicing! 

To answer the question: How do we keep the energy tank of life full?...

In the chase toward productivity, health is often neglected. A fast-paced society says, "Go, go, go - and when you're tired, go, go, go some more!" However, the more we neglect our health, the lower our productivity will become despite the amount of time spent! 

When I don't sleep, it starts with a small decline in productivity. Continue for a few days, and it branches out beyond sleep: I start craving sugary foods, I skip my workouts, my mood and motivation decline. Before I know it, I am, in a sense, running on empty, and the brain refuses to absorb more information until I stop to reload.

During track workouts in college, I sometimes would get overly ambitious. I wanted to run the next repeat another second faster, and faster, and faster. My coach would stop me between repeats and say, "Keep some energy in the tank. Only empty the tank on race day." Sometimes I listened, and other times I didn't. However, it was only when I learned to hold back the pace some, not because I was lazy, but because I was conserving energy, did I realize my potential. 

In the same way, I need to monitor my energy in my work and practicing. I know I gave my best to my competitions because of the fatigue experienced afterwards. However, only when I allow myself the time to recover will I continue to make improvements. When I am rested, I am positive, my mind is full of ideas, and I have stamina. 

Sleep really is important. Keep your energy tank full so you can make your best contribution to life!

The Pencil

I was getting ready for a day of practice. I remembered that, the day before, I had found a pencil in my piccolo case - but the lead was broken. I searched my apartment for my pencil sharpener, knowing it was likely I would need the pencil to mark my music. After browsing through a tub of office supplies in my closet and looking through the general area of my printer, the sharpener was nowhere to be found.

I began to get stressed out. "Now I have to waste time going to the store to buy a pencil sharpener...why can't I be more organized - I would save so much more time...Look at this mess of books in my closet! Why can't I keep them organized..."

[For those of you who know me well, you know that staying organized is one of the most stressful and difficult tasks for me. I'm terrible at it. I don't know how I've managed to get this far in life with such poor organizational skills, but hey, I'm here.]

I walked out to my car, now angry about both the lost pencil sharpener AND my lack of organizational skills. I looked over to the floor by the passenger seat of my car and saw some papers stacked there, mostly old mail from my mailbox a block from my apartment. "I can't even keep my car clean!"

I arrived at the store, now upset about the pencil sharpener, my unclean closet at home, AND the papers on the floor of my car. I walked into the store, found a five pack of mechanical pencils (no sharpener needed!), paid $1.50 for them, and left.

I got back in my car and caught myself. Buying the pencils took 3 minutes of my time. The store was on the way to campus, where I was heading to practice. I had just allowed a stress bomb to go off, all over what ended up being a 3 minute process. WHY???

I would say about 75% of my stress comes from situations such as this. I have to do one thing, such as respond to an email, do an assignment, or play flute warm-up exercises. However, my mind ends up thinking about five other things and allowing the stress to accumulate unnecessarily.  Before I know it, I'm a ticking time bomb of stress waiting to explode. A lot of the time, this stress spills over into whatever activity I'm actually trying to do and makes things go downhill.

I notice this a lot while playing. I play some nice long tones, then I get a little tense for articulation exercises, and by the time I get to scales, in which I need to be quite relaxed, I'm sometimes already all tensed up, leading to errors in the exercises and causing more tension to pile up. I caught this happening to me today, and I did something good.

I stepped away for a break.

I live 3.5 miles from campus, so practice breaks are often quite inconvenient. If I have a 2-3 hr block of time, it's tempting to spend the entire time practicing. However, I have noticed that the stress response that builds up is largely my brain saying, "Hey! The human mind can only focus for like...20 minutes. Can we take a break now?"

As the spring semester begins next week, I'm going to experiment with shorter blocks of practice time. I should be able to get more done in these smaller chunks, because my brain won't be fighting its "ooo, shiny" distraction sense quite so much. Practicing in smaller chunks should keep my body more relaxed, which in turn, should lead to more accurate playing.

Mechanical pencils. Those will help, too.