Tuesday, February 3, 2009

For Musicians Only

I figured it was time to write about that part of my life that to some is magical and mysterious, to others is boring and dry, and to a few others is not only a way of life, but a part of their being and consciousness inseparable from their identity. That part of my life is... you guessed it... being a musician.

If you're bored by the first paragraph, you can stop reading. I have learned in my life that the way I talk about music can inspire those who care enough to listen, while simultaneously causing the non-musician's eyes to glaze over as drool seeps from the corner of their mouth. It's my passion, my career, my hobby, and I can't imagine my life without it. It defines me, it teaches me, it elevates me. Through music I have learned many of life's great lessons, and ironically, most of them are not about music. The reason I'm writing about this today is because this matters immensely to me, and if this blog serves as some record for posterity or otherwise, the reader will know me a little better.



A few weeks ago I was driving to rehearsal for the youth orchestra while listening to the radio. The announcer was talking about a classical pianist named Arturo Michelangeli and quoted him before playing one of his pieces. The quote grabbed my attention and I asked my son to write it down, I quickly committed it to memory so I could tell him the words to write. This was the quote:
"Being a pianist and a musician is not a career but a philosophy and a conception of life not based in good intentions or natural talent but first and foremost a spirit of sacrifice."
That was it. The reason I am passionate about music, about teaching, about this force that drives me. I have sacrificed to reach a level of expression, to be able to use an instrument to communicate what's inside me. It couldn't happen in a week, a year, or even a few years... it took my whole life of continual effort to develop this "conception of life".

Pretty deep, huh? Yeah, I thought so, too.

Here are some of the ways I apply this philosophy on a daily basis...
  • I get down on the floor to trace around little feet so they can always go to the same place.
  • I greet each student the same way for every lesson.
  • I patiently and persistently make corrections in bow hold... again and again and again.
  • I always ask about practicing habits, and continually ask students to report on their work.
  • I assign chores to my children, and ask that they always be done before play.
  • I say prayers with my children morning and night, without fail.
  • I fold my towels the same way every time.
  • I exercise every morning after putting my kids on the bus.
  • I notice little improvements in every student, in every lesson, and let them know their work is acceptable.
  • I smile at the parents who trust their children to me, and always let them know they are appreciated.
  • I listen to "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" for the 365,784th time and truly enjoy it, knowing it is part of a wonderful journey for this individual child.
Ok, I know some of those things don't seem to have anything to do with music, but that's the idea. The dedication and sacrifice that musicians get so much credit for is nothing more than a daily devotion to little rituals. Each and every day you have to do the same things to create habits that will shape you. It's easy to forget that something so small can be so important, especially when it's the same thing you did yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. You have to step back far enough to see that those steps have brought you to a different place, that you're a new person, better, stronger, and smarter than you were before.

I'm done philosophizing. I'll go back to more trivial things tomorrow. Or is anything REALLY trivial? Hmmmm... ;)

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