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.

Confidence

I’m going to talk about a tough topic for me. I am by no means an expert on this topic; in fact, I wouldn’t even consider it to be one of my strong points. However, as the expanse of winter break has opened up before me, I have had time to think and formulate some theories on the following topic:

Confidence.

A look at that word sparks some interesting feelings in me. On one hand, it makes me want to cower in a corner, because confidence means opening myself up to vulnerability, and that can be frightening. On the other hand, I feel my sense of self reach out for it with curiousity, wondering, “Where could I go if I had that? How far could my potential stretch?”

What does confidence even mean? Dictionary nerd time:

“a feeling or consciousness of one's powers or of reliance on one's circumstances <had perfect confidence in her ability to succeed> <met the risk with brash confidence>

b :  faith or belief that one will act in a right, proper, or effective way <have confidence in a leader>”

(www.mirriam-webster.com/dictionary/confidence)

Confidence isn’t necessarily a quality one has or doesn’t have. It is something that must be developed. It is a “feeling,” “consciousness,” “faith,” and mostly, a “belief.” Confidence, simply, is belief in yourself. How could one lose this belief?

We live in an imperfect world. Humans tend to not understand other humans who think or act differently. I know in my life, I have been met with doubters. I was bullied growing up, and in this way, I felt my passions be undermined. I loved the things I did, but I started not to love myself. “Maybe they’re right. Maybe I am weird, too self-absorbed in these things, and even crazy. After all, I’m not like the rest of the people I see around me. There must be something wrong with me.”

These feelings eventually changed into something else. They became a deeply rooted fear of criticism. I began to work really hard, constantly fearing failure. Confidence? I didn’t really have it. I was really good at working hard, but my sense of self would crumble under even the idea of failure. 

I carried doubt with me as I went forward, but deep down, I always had this small voice. That little voice whispered possibilities and passions. It was responsible for me continuing on and doing things the outside world didn’t understand – flute playing and long distance running, what a combination!

I have been blessed with a gift that is a bit of a dual-edged sword. I have the gift to sense the internal worlds of people and to see injustices of how the world works – the small ticks of events that just don’t seem right somehow. Because of this, I am able to open my heart with big words of encouragement to people. There is one problem.

For the longest time, I wasn’t able to show this compassion to myself. Lately, with help from key individuals, I have turned this skill inwards. I saw how several thoughts in my head didn’t match up with the small voice deep down. I now know that the small voice is my confidence. I do have it after all. It has been buried under a deep blanket of memories, injuries, insecurities, false beliefs, and fears. The wounded side of my sensitive self put a barrier over my confidence, because if I didn’t have confidence, if I didn’t show my expectations outwardly, I couldn’t fail, and therefore, I couldn’t let the world hurt me.

My adult self is really getting annoyed with this coping mechanism. The internal voice of endless possibilities and positivity calls to me. It says, “You have a message to share. Please stop shoving it down. Someone really needs to be inspired by you!”

I believe this same wrestling match goes on inside every human being. We fight between conforming for acceptance and therefore being “safe,” or jumping off the cliff of risk and releasing our true selves. I look around me and see a one-sided approach to life. I see many fighting this same internal battle, but the solution they receive from others for their fears is a one-size-fits-all solution. Afraid of performing a piece of music? “Practice more. Your unease must stem from being unprepared.” 

In truth, I believe fears run much deeper than simple solutions. I believe many need to find the small voice of their true selves hiding under their primal defense mechanisms, invite it inside for a cup of tea, make it nice and comfortable, and then interview it.

“Who are you?”

“I am the true you. I am confident and strong.”

“Where have you been?”

“I have been waiting for you to let me out. I love you and see your potential. We’ll probably get a few bruises along the way, but we are going to have a lot of fun!”

This process, I can tell you, is not all rainbows and butterflies. It is deeply painful. It requires a person to look every fear straight in the face and reckon with it. No wonder it is difficult to overcome. It is a lifelong journey of self-discovery.

I am beginning to accept all the things about myself I thought were “weird.” There even are some qualities about myself I find downright annoying, but I know all of it contributes to my gift of an introspective nature. Confidence slowly peeks out of its cage as I realize I am who I am, and nothing anyone says or does can change that. I will fail a few [or several] times, and that is OK. My best contribution to this world comes from releasing my inner self.

“Hello, Confidence. Make yourself at home. Would you like a cup of tea?”

A song to check out: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qj5fMIKe47w

Looking Back, Looking Ahead

My first semester of graduate school has definitely been an adventure. Two days from the writing of this post, I will play my jury and turn in my final draft of my first graduate term paper. No matter how those things turn out, by Wednesday, I can say that I made it through!

I have been challenged by school here in ways that I never have been before. When I overcome each challenge, I find that there are infinite more aspects of my playing to improve. This has both been really frustrating and really enlightening. I am a person who likes things to be good now, and when I see the vast expanse of necessary improvements open up before me, I often get overwhelmed by all there is to fix. I am not very skilled at breaking down challenges one-by-one. A look at how I attempt to "organize" my house will show you this. I put things away, and they stay put for about a day or two. Then, things start to slowly expand and end up all over the house - especially shoes....oh my goodness, migrating shoes...

In short, my brain has a tendency to "cast a wide net," leading me into multitasking, attempting to work out solutions to everything at once, getting frustrated when I can't quickly find a solution, and feeling bad about myself when things aren't as good as they can be (which really, they never are! There's always ways to improve.).

Also, I have learned how average my playing really is. I am another fish in the flute-playing sea. A tough lesson I'm learning is, not everyone will like my playing. Even if I practiced and practiced for years and became a "flute master" (think ninja with a flute), some people wouldn't like my playing, not because I wasn't "good," but maybe because they prefer a different sound or style of playing.

I have been getting down about my playing lately. I have lost all the competitions I've entered. Confession: I HATE LOSING. I think it's my inner athlete. And the fact that, well, I don't think anyone likes to lose. I woke up one morning, still bummed about it, and then I got contacted by someone who wanted to pay me to come play for them. And then it clicked:

Some people won't like my playing at all, some will think it is ok, and others will like it.

Realizing this opened up a small place of freedom in me. Just because someone doesn't like my playing or I lose a competition doesn't mean I should throw my hands up and say, "I'm terrible!" (That would cause me to drop the flute, among other things. ;) ). It means I am neutral. It means the outside opinions will always vary, but as long as I believe in what I am doing (and keep practicing), I won't be "terrible," I shouldn't "quit playing," and I'm definitely not a "failure." I am a musician who shares a part of me with those who care to listen. Music makes me happy (I forget this when I am stressed out). 

I will admit, when I came here, I started out a little fast. I came out, guns blazing, saying "I'm going to practice hours and hours every day!!!" .... I accelerated my practicing really quickly, leading to a bit of a practice burnout by the end of the semester. I still played every day, but the quality of practice started to suffer. I am in recovery from this and thinking, "What can I do differently to make next semester better?" I have come up with a few activities that could help:

1) Don't feel pressured to play "x" amount of time a day. Play as long as energy allows, as improvement comes. If I'm feeling a little down energy wise, attempt to power through it. If the wall persists, don't force anything. This makes overcoming the wall worse. Embrace the wall. Play something fun for a little bit. Or walk away and do a restorative activity. 

2) Add some meditation into my practice. I once asked a teacher, "What is one thing I can do to make my playing better?" The teacher said, "Lie on the floor for 20 minutes a day." Off and on, I have tried this, but not succeeded, as it actually is more difficult than it sounds! I'm going to start using my yoga mat over break and do some mind-calming exercises.

3) Don't think about everything at once. Break practice up into sessions, and keep the goal of the session ONLY on one piece or set of pieces at a time. Ex. 1) warm-ups, 2) 1-2 pieces of rep, 3) orchestra excerpts, 4) piccolo. Let the mind be focused only on each session's activities, and bring it back if it tries to wander off into other music or daily worries.

4) Re-incorporate restorative, healing, "me time" activities back into life. For me, this especially includes running. I am an introvert, and the activity of running allows me to reconnect with myself, set non-flute-related goals, feel proud of myself, and release the "feel good" chemicals. I focused on the graduate school / living in a new place adjustment in the last several months and really let running go by the wayside. I've picked it back up in the last month and have remembered why I love it so much. Last week, I ran 5 days, and yesterday, I ran 8 miles on the treadmill. My goal over winter break is to keep it at a consistent 6 days a week.

5) Keep speaking positive words to myself. Somewhere along the line, I got in the cyclical habit of negative thought patterns. I have been working to re-train my mind. I notice that, whenever I stray from the path of speaking positive words to myself, my mind travels back along the well-beaten path of negative thoughts. Positivity is a miracle cure and creates a happy life!

I have come a long way in the last few months. I am a lot better flutist than I was when I got here, but I also see the huge gap between where I am and where I want to be. Sometimes, perseverance is really difficult. I remind myself that, as long as I keep practicing and moving forward, the only way to go is up! 

"One of the commonest mistakes and one of the costliest is thinking that success is due to some genius, some magic - something or other which we do not possess. Success is generally due to holding on, and failure to letting go. You decide to learn a language, study music, take a course of reading, train yourself physically. Will it be success or failure? It depends upon how much pluck and perseverance that word "decide" contains. The decision that nothing can overrule, the grip that nothing can detach will bring success." 

Maltbie Davenport Babcock (1858-1901)

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!