Practicing is Not Magic

 Problem-solving practice. It seems so simple, right? The process is to figure out what is wrong and systematically determine a solution to fix it. Like a carpenter, a problem-solving practicer takes his time to consult the blueprint, choose the best materials, carefully put the materials in the correct locations, and then build. The project slowly but surely becomes "constructed" into a finished product.

Yet, how easy it is to fall into the trap of the more obsessive compulsive method of playing a passage, playing it again, playing it again....somehow hoping you will magically become a better flute player or learn it correctly. Unfortunately, I have not met any wizards.

"It isn't right! Let me play it again, and again, and again. Maybe if I play all of it slower, it will work? No? Let me find a magic wand..."

I will admit I have often fallen in the second group. Even as a graduate student, I still frequently fall back on old habits of this "wizard" practice, which is always (in my case) related to future thinking stress.

"What if I don't learn this on time?! This still isn't right? Maybe I'm just not good enough."

This method often sets me back. Imagine if the head of a construction project decided to rush through the building process without problem-solving. His building might not stand very well.

I think the reason why slow, methodical practice is difficult for many is because of the stress of school, deadlines, auditions, etc. We forward think to the product and forget the process, ignoring the fact that

WITHOUT THE PROCESS, THERE IS NO PRODUCT.

For example, I was frustrated the other day because my scale exercise that I've been working on for years wasn't even. I started getting angry about it: "I've been playing this for years...why is this wrong?!" That thinking only led to more tension and unevenness.

A flute friend knocked on my practice room door. I started talking through the problem with her, and in the process of verbalizing the problem, I ended up discovering a solution before she left. It turned out that I had the metronome clicking away at every beat, which was making me over-think about the evenness of technique. Setting the metronome at half-speed (clicking once every two beats) allowed my arms to relax and me to think about line more than beat.

The problem ended up being not what I thought it was (lack of coordination in my fingers). It was something completely different (focusing too much on the beat instead of line). If I hadn't stopped to talk it out, I would have continued drilling away, practicing tension with a too-fast metronome click.

My over-active brain struggles with stepping away to solve problems. But I know I am not alone, as I often hear sighs of exasperation coming out of practice rooms. My goal is to play less and problem solve more - that's right, I said play less, problem solve more. Stopping to assess the problem leads to quicker solutions and less "woodshedding."

Honestly, we all have to go through the phase in which we struggle with XYZ before XYZ can be easy. We have to be amateurs before professionals. The area in the middle is perhaps more important than the arrival at the end, for if we don't build a bridge over the roadblocks in learning, we will never reach the end goal.

Added note: Do we ever really "arrive" anyway? The bridge we build from A to B is never completely finished. There's always something to learn!

Will you join me in this lifelong goal toward more joyful practicing? 

P.S. Let me know if any of you find that magic wand.