Last Friday I had the chance to perform the Mozart Flute and Harp Concerto. It was a transformative and rich experience, but the performance was just a small piece of the whole.

Side bar: There will be some backstory here, and it’s for slightly selfish reasons because I want to catalog this period of time so that I can revisit this experience later and fully remember the months leading up to this performance as well as the performance itself. If you’d like to skip ahead, I won’t be offended - jump to the bullet points further on in the post for the lessons I’ve learned that I think could benefit anyone preparing for something big.

The performance fell in the middle of an extremely busy summer festival, and an especially busy week and a half of performances. The run down went something like: Friday - Peter and the Wolf; Monday - Flute and Harp Recital; Wednesday - woodwind sextet performance; Friday - Mozart Flute and Harp Concerto; Saturday - Beethoven 5 and other pieces.

Whew. 

Now, I knew well in advance that I would be facing that timeline, as well as the repertoire I would need to have prepared. I had from roughly January to prep the concerto and late spring to prep the other pieces. It just so happened that I played Peter and the Wolf in March (on only a week’s notice!), so it helped to have that one fresh in my fingers.

What I could not have predicted was the fact that we would buy a house this spring (we were not planning on moving!), do some quick construction on our old house, and move all before the festival got here in mid-July. Add in hosting the first Flute Day at MU and a concerto with the MU Wind Ensemble, and it made for a wild ride in the first half of 2022!

Any one of these things could have completely thrown me in a tailspin not that long ago, but I had a few things working to my advantage. Like most freelance musicians, I have gotten good at learning music in a pinch. Years of filling in and jumping on board have made me confident in my abilities to make it work when I have to.

What that really equates to is squeezing in practice anywhere you can, because you have to. I took my flute on family trips or any time I was away from home for more than a day, squeezed in ten or fifteen minutes any time I could between lessons, and listened to the pieces I would be performing while I was painting walls during our moving and selling process. 

So far, none of this is earth shattering information - these are the regular things we do to prepare for performances when we’re busy. 

In this case though, I was preparing for an important performance of a concerto that is both famous and long (roughly 30 minutes), just a few years after a major run-in with performance anxiety/regular anxiety/stress. 

I’ve spent the last two years learning about why I feel nervous, what I can do before, during and after performances to help with that, and implementing that knowledge so that I am able to give a strong, confident performance that I can enjoy.

That’s no small order, no matter how much experience we have performing, competing in a high performance activity, or putting ourselves out there as creatives. 

There are many things that have helped me balance my time so that I can focus on what’s important, which include a willingness to say no to things that might be good (or less than good) but not great; getting enough sleep and eating well; hydrating; making time for things that help me unwind both physically and mentally (like yoga, reading, meditation, and family time).

But there are also some very concrete things that help me tackle feelings of worry and stress, concern about being judged, perfectionism in performance, and my ability to enjoy the moment that I know could benefit anyone who finds themselves in my shoes. 

I have to give credit here to a few sources that inspired most of the items in the following list - my teachers who planted pedagogical seeds that have grown into both saplings and strong trees, yoga and mindfulness meditation which have allowed me to begin to understand what it means to be embodied and not just in my mind, George Mumford’s Mindful Athlete course, and Terry Orlick’s book In Pursuit of Excellence. 

Here are some of the lessons that I’ve learned about trust and preparation:

• Move toward the danger: This was a phrase I heard used in one of my favorite podcasts in relation to doing the things that make us uncomfortable. It is not unlike the idea at the root of mindfulness that we need to accept the thoughts and feelings that make us uncomfortable. The application here is that if the idea of a performance makes you nervous or squeamish but you believe you can do it, move toward the danger! Commit to doing it and drawing out your skills and resources.

 

• Don’t aim to be perfect or to sound like anyone else: Perfection is a myth. I truly believe the saying that perfection is the enemy of good. If we are obsessed with playing the perfect version of say, Mozart, we will likely not play our best version of Mozart. Likewise, others can serve as excellent inspiration but we have our own voice for a reason. This leads me to:

 

• Capitalize on your strengths: I’ll lead with a personal example - I love to play Romantic era and Modern music, but not always Baroque, Classical or…Mozart. I am more at home in the colors of modern music than I am the ornaments and articulations of Mozart. Instead of stressing over this, I learned to be (more) comfortable by bringing my strengths with me and learning to love the rest. I could use my warm sound and control of color and timbre to sound like myself while getting better at the stylistic elements of Mozart. What could you bring to a challenging situation that has you written all over it?

 

• Know your preparation habits: Do you have a tendency to predict the worst? Are you a procrastinator? Maybe you just hate recording yourself? Make a list of the things you tend to avoid - not so you can berate yourself over them! - and then start with them. Do your least favorite thing first. In my case, I hate recording myself practicing even though it is endlessly useful. For this performance, I did that first. I recorded myself as often as I could. Sometimes I listened back, sometimes I didn’t. Sometimes I listened a week later. But as time went on it got easier and easier to hit record and then listen objectively.

 

• Mind your mind: Caring for your general well-being matters as much as anything when you have a big performance. This means training your mind in the months or weeks leading up to the event, but also how you manage yourself as the performance gets closer. I leaned hard on meditation and yoga to keep my mind and body balanced all the way up to the concerto. I also cut out caffeine, alcohol, and super salty foods for a little over a week prior, drank extra water, slept as much as I could and read lots of fluffy fiction to allow my mind a chance to relax. Listen to your body - you know what seemingly “regular” things can sabotage your best mind state.

 

• Practice Visualization: This one makes me chuckle a bit, because when I was nervous as a young performer my mom always told me to "visualize it" and I found it infuriating. Like, how could it be so simple? But you know what? She was right (of course!). There is so much research, primarily in sports, about how visualization can improve performance. I am still a novice at detailed, performance based visualization, but even in my limited experience it has been incredibly impactful. (Terry Orlick’s book is a great resource for this!)

 

• Learn from the good and the bad: Debrief after each rehearsal and performance. If it went poorly, what can you learn? What do you know you could implement? If it went well, don’t just say it went well - what made that happen? What actions did you take the created the outcome?

 

• Focus on the process, not the goal: Instead of creating a giant monster of meaning out of important performances, try to remember that they are a stop on your timeline - the culmination of things you have done and learned up to that point. I shared a reel on my Instagram reflecting on this in my preparation for this concerto, and I truly believe that we are what we think (mind your mind!) AND nothing happens all at once or in an instant. 

The most impactful part of this concerto performance for me was that I enjoyed the entire experience. I enjoyed being able to work through difficult practice days and remind myself that nothing is just right from the very beginning. I enjoyed visualizing myself in the moment and thinking about what my best performance could sound and look like. I enjoyed collaborating with the other musicians tremendously - what a treat after months of prepping alone. I even enjoyed feeling nervous on stage because I was able to see my thoughts and nerves for what they were - events, not facts. 

What I’ve learned over the last few years is that I’m not actually looking for perfection or virtuosity - I’m looking for balance. Balanced thoughts, balanced embodiment. And this time, I think I found a little of both.

As I was sitting here staring at a blank page thinking and thinking about how I didn’t have anything to write, it occurred to me how much time I spend thinking so hard about so many different things that don’t really matter very much, or maybe aren't even real.

Why did that one G come out so funny in rehearsal last week? Why do I feel so disorganized about what I need to practice? Why can’t I remember to water my plants? Why didn’t I plan better before I went grocery shopping this week?

I would guess not everyone does this to the same extremes, but I’m also pretty sure I’m not alone in the amount of brain space and time I can spend considering a lot of important (and unimportant) things ad nauseam.

A few days ago I caught myself doing this while I was practicing. I’ve written about different scenarios of this before, but for some reason it sparked a light bulb moment this week, even though I’ve already experienced similar realizations. (We keep being given the same messages until we learn what we need from them, I think.)

When I’ve written about this before it was about overthinking that happens when we have so much on our to-do lists that we catastrophize all of it to the point of not being able to get started. My experience this week was different in a subtle, but important way. 

As I was practicing, I was honed in on something that felt a little weird or “off” in my playing - something that, I kept thinking, I should be able to do effortlessly and that I shouldn’t ever have to think about at this point. I caught myself thinking that this particular aspect of my playing was so solid and easy before, how could I have regressed so that it wasn’t?

As I was ruminating, out of nowhere and for a brief moment, I had a sliver of outside perspective. I remembered the reality of previous practice sessions days, months, and even years ago. I realized that I might not have been paying much attention to this aspect of my playing before, but that wasn’t because it was perfect. I remembered clearly other times that I had off-days with this particular skill. 

This tiny moment of clarity allowed the thought fog to lift and reminded me that we really can’t believe everything we think. 

I had been understandably frustrated with something that doesn’t usually require my attention, but in allowing my frustration to run rampant I had started telling myself stories that went well beyond the actual experience at hand about my abilities, approach, and playing without even realizing how far into the fabricated future I was letting my thoughts travel. 

Even though this experience was subtle, it felt like a huge step forward. How long would I have created unnecessary frustration and distraction over this issue in my practice if I hadn’t been able to see what was happening with a wider perspective?

I believe whole heartedly that mindfulness meditation is what has created an increasing number of these very subtle “ah-ha” moments for me both in music and life. 

Much like practicing our instruments, practicing mindfulness can seem slow to progress and sometimes tedious, but the growth is always available to you if you are willing to stick with the practice. 

How aware are you of your thoughts in the practice room?
Can you really see where the division is between what’s happening now in the moment and what you’re predicting about the future?
How could you strengthen your mind to see the moment clearly?

The mind-body connection is both simple and straightforward and incredibly complex. It makes sense that our thoughts and our physical body would be intertwined (we do carry our brain around in our body all the time!), but the ways they affect each other are many and it can be overwhelming to consider how we might address this to improve our day to day life, performance, and ability to play and communicate through our instruments.

I love exploring the mind-body connection through yoga. I’ve learned so much about anatomy through my yoga practice and teacher training, and I have gained a lot of understanding about the way our fascia, muscles, and bones work. (I’m still learning, of course - this is not a small topic!)

No one part of the body operates alone.

As an example, recently I was finding that one side of my jaw/tongue felt stiff and immobile when I was practicing. My initial thought was that I must have been clenching my teeth throughout the day or while sleeping. As I observed myself, though, that proved not to be the case. 

Further observation led me to notice that when I turned my head I could feel strain/tension in the muscles around my collar bone that connect the shoulder and (surprise!) the jaw on the side of the tongue where I was experiencing limited mobility. By following up with some simple exercises for the point of origin in my shoulder and neck, I was able to relieve the tension inside my mouth.

It’s not just our physical body that benefits from this kind of knowledge and attention. In the situation I described above, understanding that the limitations I had been experiencing in articulation and mobility around the jaw were coming from something clearly temporary and fixable gave me a peace of mind in practice and the ability to plan well to alleviate those issues. 

This is a small example of how growing our understanding of the way the body works can help us solve problems in our practice and understand barriers that come up in playing and practice. 

I always try to be on the lookout for ways to deepen my understanding of how the physical and mental aspects of playing are connected. 

Recently, I’ve been discussing the role of the sinuses and soft palate in tone production with a lot of my students. I once had a teacher explain this to me by saying that you should raise the space just above the center of your eyebrows inside your head. (Did you try it? It’s possible! Kind of weird, right?)

You can create a similar feeling by breathing in quickly through the nose, or by mimicking the beginning of a yawn (are you yawning now from trying that?). 

Doing this helps us create resonance by using open space real estate already available in our head - the sinuses!

As I was working through this concept with a student, I was thinking about how that space above the center of the eyebrows is also the location of the third eye or anja chakra. 

In yoga, the third eye chakra is our seat of knowing or intuition. It acts as our center of wisdom and consciousness. This chakra allows for clear thought and self-reflection, and when it’s balanced trades “me vs. them” for a more interconnected approach to thought. 

When this chakra is blocked or out of alignment we might notice tension around the brow or headaches, sinus issues, or trouble concentrating and sleeping. Emotionally, we might feel a lot of self-doubt and worry, or find ourselves overthinking a lot if the third eye is out of balance. A blocked anja chakra can impede our ability to be confident.

Have you already noticed some connections between the third eye chakra and what we do as musicians? At our best, we want to be able to connect with our audience and our fellow musicians - we strive to stay open to others in performance. Not to mention that I think we’re always in need of clear self reflection and the ability to trust our intuition and abilities without overthinking. 

I don’t think it’s a far stretch to consider how the third eye chakra and the same space in our physical body might be connected in the creation of resonance and our sound, not to mention our phrasing and clear communication through music. 

So, how can we bring this concept into a more concrete application? How can we balance this chakra that it will benefit our musicianship? Some of these ideas may be things you already do in your practice and performance. If that’s the case, focusing on them in a new way might help to bring about new benefits or a greater understanding. 

Visualization is a great way to focus the mind. 
Try visualizing yourself in detail, playing at your best and connecting with your audience and fellow musicians. Or, visualize tension leaving the area at the center of the forehead, like a light flowing through allowing you to open up resonance and the third eye. 

Moving your body is a great way to balance any of the chakras. 
To bring the third eye back into balance, try child’s pose. Rest your head on a block, blanket, or the mat/floor and gently rock the head from side to side. Any gentle neck stretches will also help with opening up this part of the physical body.

Meditation is a powerful way to balance the mind and the third eye. 
Try a guided mindfulness meditation. Or, simply sit quietly and with stillness, allowing yourself to be present to your thoughts and feelings. 
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At first it can feel like a far stretch to combine the chakras with an aspect of musical performance like tonal resonance. As we grow our understanding that the body and mind are always intertwined, we close the gap between thinking of them as two separate entities and open up new resources for ourself as musicians.

“If I’m suffering, there is something I’m not mindful of.”

Dan Harris said this on an episode of the Ten Percent Happier Podcast this week and I actually said “Oh,” out loud when I heard it. One of those moments where it feels like the author or speaker had you in mind when they thought to say this particular thing. 

I want to clarify here that Dan Harris was talking about suffering in the Buddhist sense, not the type of human suffering we see in war or medical illness. In Buddhism, suffering (also called dukkha) is thought to exist because of dissatisfaction we create for ourselves - because we crave or desire things we don’t have and look past what is in the present moment. Not being open to change and trying to hold on to the past or an idea of the future can also cause dukkha. (This is paraphrasing, of course, and this is an interesting concept worth exploring more).

I’ve spent this whole week feeling tense and jittery, and also preoccupied with some big performances that are coming up. 

All week I kept trying to push those feelings away thinking, I’ve worked SO hard on my mindset and focus for the last two years, why do I still feel like this? I am preparing well and I’m not unhappy with how I’m sounding,  I’m meditating and paying attention to my mindset around performance, and I’m doing my best to maintain my sleep hygiene and eating healthy meals. 

As I listened to this particular episode of the TPH podcast, it occurred to me that, yes I have done a lot of work, but there were so few demands on me as a performing musician during the early part of the pandemic and it was the least work I’ve had to do I the last, um, almost twenty years. So, although I feel like I’ve sorted a bunch of stuff out, I’m still human.

What was I not being mindful of that was leading to suffering? My suffering this week was coming from the expectation that I would never be frazzled again because I’d done some work (even typing that seems totally ridiculous!). 

I wasn’t being mindful of the situation - yes I am applying things I have practiced, but in a completely new set of circumstances. 

With a little perspective, it seems appropriate that facing my first concerto performance since the pandemic might feel a little stressful even if I’m mindful and focused. 

So now the task at hand is applying the things I’m learning to do better while allowing myself to feel the stress. 

It’s not bad to feel nervous or concerned - what matters is my ability to flip the focus around to the right things. To allow the emotions to come up and pass away because they are just emotions - not facts.

The title of this blog is a little quote I’ve jotted down countless times in the last ten or fifteen years. The memory of where I first heard it is foggy, but the message stuck with me.

We are meant to enjoy, in joy - our purpose is to enjoy all the things life throws at us, fully immersed and steeped in the experience of it all. 

Is it always comfortable to be submerged in all the good, bad and in between things that happen to us? Definitely not - consider how much time we spend on our phones, watching Netflix, or playing video games trying to avoid all the uncomfortable parts of our lives.

I’ve mentioned before how I have come to love mindfulness meditation so much because it teaches us to be fully present no matter what the situation is. It is often an uncomfortable (and sometimes annoying) practice as it points out exactly how much we try to not be present to our experiences every day.

There is another type of meditation with Buddhist origins that I have had a hard time connecting with that, ironically, is probably most closely related to my favorite mantra ("Enjoy, in joy"). It’s called Metta. Metta is a practice of extending love and kindness (or lovingkindness) toward all beings - ourselves, our loved ones, people we don’t know, and even people we really don't like.

Metta can sometimes feel forced - traditionally you recite or think phrases like “may you be happy” or “may I be happy” while focusing on yourself and others in turn. It’s unusual for us to sit and purposefully direct positive thoughts like this toward ourselves and people we don’t like very much. As we think about ourselves, we might even fall into that category of people we don't like very much sometimes!

Side bar: One of the things that helped me have a more relatable experience with Metta was a Metta for Musicians workshop offered by Shauna Fallihee. (Shauna’s Instagram account @embodiedsinger and her website are amazing resources for musicians and she shares so much useful information about myofascial release, mindfulness and movement for musicians.) In the workshop, we practiced seeing our experiences as a musician and ourself as a musician with equanimity - with kindness, even when it is difficult.

What has always fully reverberated for me from Metta is the idea of giving without expectation. Offering someone love and not expecting anything back, offering someone kindness and not worrying about their response…offering your music and not expecting praise, success or validation. 

When was the last time you played your instrument that you enjoyed, in joy? 

I hope it was today, but I know for many of us as we become better musicians our relationship with sharing our music becomes complicated. Our music making can become entangled in our sense of self worth, our sense of success and our sense of who we are at our core. 

If we are constantly nitpicking our playing and never enjoying it can start to feel like we are constantly at war with ourselves.

I’m as guilty of this as anyone, and lately I’ve made it a bit of a mission to share and enjoy, in joy - no strings attached.

I'm doing my best to stay focused on the message I want to share, the character of the music, and the experience of playing with those around me.
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Of course this isn’t a magic erase button for all self-critique that comes up, but it is helping me to unwind some of it - to see it for what it is. It is allowing me to be more in the moment, enjoying it for whatever it is.

I have become very committed to my meditation practice over the last year. As with any new or developing interest, this has led me to do more research and reading on the subject, seek out references and examples of how to apply it to my daily life, and of course, to lots of meditating.

I think it’s inevitable that an interest in mindfulness meditation will lead you to some understanding of Buddhism. Buddhism is the inspiration and origin of much of what we think of as mindfulness meditation. Buddhist practices and principles can be traced back to ancient times, and if you’re like me, you might have found through your meditation journey that many are quite useful and applicable to our modern lives. 

Occasionally, though, there is a concept that seems un-relatable (or just plain far out). Maybe you have even had this experience in a lesson where a perfectly intelligent and respectable teacher presents a concept to you that just seems out of place for your own playing or practice, or maybe they taught you a concept that you just find weird and hard to do or conceptualize. 

Somewhere along my path of growing a meditation practice I ran into the Buddhist concept of Non-Self or No Self (anātman). At first read, it can seem a little nuts:

Non-Self: in Buddhism, the doctrine that there is in humans no permanent, underlying substance that can be called the soul. Instead, the individual is compounded of five factors that are constantly changing.

(Are you wondering how this relates to music yet?)

I didn’t give a lot of thought to this concept initially, because, frankly, it’s a big one. There’s a lot to take in and consider in this view that’s very different from how we often perceive ourselves. 

If we look at this concept from the simplest angle we can (which, let’s be honest, is still a bit mind-bending), then it means that each of us are always changing. That while there are things about us that may be the same from year to year or moment to moment, other aspects of us, both big and small, have changed. We are always changing in some way.

Another perspective that might be helpful is that we are not our mind and body, but we do have a mind and body. We are not our experiences or our thoughts, but we have experiences and thoughts. The mind, body, experiences and thoughts we have are always in flux in some way.

Part way through my first year of meditating, I did a guided meditation on the Ten Percent app led by Anushka Fernandopulle that addressed this concept and a little light bulb went off. 

(Now we’re getting to somewhere this connects with our study and performance of music!)

The perspective that Anushka Fernandopulle shared gave the example of any mistake we might make, big or small. Mistakes are on not on purpose - if we had complete control over our self then we would never make any mistakes.

There would never be a wrong note, an out of tune note, or a late or early entrance. You would never play badly in lesson you had prepared for. You wouldn’t eat that ice cream at midnight after a gig when you weren’t even hungry. 

But there are all of those things, we do play badly sometimes, and we also eat midnight snacks (not for lack of trying to do otherwise). 

I’m sure that you can conjure up at least a few situations where you tried your absolute hardest, and things just didn’t come out the way you wanted. 

The lightbulb moment for me in the concept of non-self though, was the idea that because things are always changing and malleable, and because we have many parts, elements, experiences and thoughts, we cannot possibly expect to control everything.

Let me repeat that for all the perfectionist musicians, including myself: because all our physical parts, our mind, our thoughts and our experiences are always changing in some way, we cannot expect to control everything. 

The next time you play out of tune or miss a note, even though you practiced and prepared as best you could, do not blame yourself for making a stupid mistake. Do not personalize the experience as if you can control absolutely every variable at every moment. 

Yes, from moment to moment we are mostly the same, and we do have to make our best effort (or right effort as George Mumford would say), but the lesson to learn here is that we need to release the things we are not responsible for or in control of. 

Focus on what you can do with well moment to moment with a positive mindset and right effort and release the idea that we can somehow control the fact, or the ways, that we are always changing.

For those of us who struggle with an incredibly strong inner critic, the pressures of performance and our own expectations, this Buddhist concept of Non-Self at it simplest might provide us with a new perspective. 

At its core, Non-Self provides space for self acceptance, self forgiveness, and a path out of perfectionism.

How could you incorporate this view of Non-Self in a healthy way in your practice or performance? I would love to hear about your thoughts and experiences!

We all have both self-encouraging and self-deprecating thoughts, but I think it's safe to say that most of us are more negative than we are positive when it comes to how we think about ourselves.

If you're a musician, it's possible that being in a competitive field, largely based on being able to self-critique, has made this worse for you. We are expected to observe ourselves daily as musicians, note our flaws, and find solutions to improve them. 

No one says that should translate to being mean to ourselves, and I'm sure that none of our teachers want that for us, but I don't personally know a single musician who has created a completely healthy relationship with themselves in the practice room from the beginning of their studies. Unfortunately, we seem prone to this as humans.

Most of us have a moment of reckoning in our musical journey, especially if you pursue a career in music, where we realize that it's simply not sustainable to improve our playing by berating ourselves for the rest of our lives. Hopefully it prompts us to make positive changes and improve our relationship with ourselves.

Although I think I've had my fair share of moments of reckoning, we can never let our guard down.

Recently in preparing for some performances, I noticed a repeating series of events in my practice. I would start out with good intentions and have a centered warm up, but as I'd dig in to the repertoire I would find myself nitpicking technical things. Suddenly, my brain was off down a rabbit hole of turning something that wasn't an issue, like my hand position or some random muscle stiffness into a crisis. 

I wasn't choosing those thoughts. In fact, I wasn't choosing any particular thought, so they were running rampant, wrecking the rest of my practice session and setting the tone for what the rest of my day will be like. 

After a day or two of this happening (and wallowing in it a bit if I'm being real), I got my act together. 

I decided to make a choice.

Mindfulness meditation teaches us that thoughts are events, not facts. We can choose to latch on to them, or we can decide to watch them arrive and then bid them a firm goodbye. 

If you don't allow yourself to fixate on a negative thought, it can't take hold. Without anything to feed it, it can't grow.

To do this, though, you have to practice awareness.

We are programmed to want to avoid negative thoughts and feelings. But by allowing yourself to see those negative thoughts show up and notice how they are making you feel, you stop hiding and giving up your control. Acknowledging them gives you the space and clarity to see them for what they are and send them packing.

You retain the power over the situation.

It's the difference between a few seconds of negative grossness or finding that you just beat yourself up for fifteen or twenty minutes and ruined your day. 

I want to point out that this is not easy.

We have spent years allowing our thoughts to read like facts from a reputable source, and it takes practice to both notice your thoughts and then convince yourself that you get to decide what sticks.

It's not easy, but it's worth it. 

To sustainably create positive change for yourself, you must choose to be the conscious observer of your thoughts,

How often do you catch yourself overthinking things?

Do you ever find yourself lost in thoughts about what happened last night or last year? Maybe about what will happen next year?

Perhaps you start practicing and are suddenly lost in thoughts of that wrong note you played in a performance two years ago, or you're wondering what your income will be like this year and how the job market will look when the pandemic begins to subside? Maybe you're just thinking about that hair that's always completely out of place.

The examples above are valid and also distracting in different ways. It's certainly not uncommon to get lost in thinking about the bigger picture.

There are a million ways we can distract ourselves: overthinking something from the past, obsessing over things that haven't happened yet, focusing on things that are actually inconsequential, or telling ourselves what a terrible job we have done, are doing or will do. These are just a few that I may, or may not, have some personal experience with.

What has helped me tremendously with overactive and critical thoughts is mindfulness meditation.

I don't mean that meditating has stopped the ridiculous banter that can happen in my subconscious. I'm not actually sure it is possible to stop that. Rather, meditating has shown me a new perspective on my tendency to overthink and overcomplicate my day to day life.

The reality is, most of us end up in this chaotic mind state without even realizing we have let these thoughts run rampant.

What mindfulness meditation tells us is that we have a choice about how to react when we have these feelings or distracting thought patterns.

You may not notice right away that your mind has wandered, or that it's taken you down another rabbit hole of dissecting one of your self labeled flaws, but at some point you will notice.

That moment of noticing is the magic moment! When you notice you are telling yourself stories or being exceptionally hard on yourself, or even that you are simply distracted, you acknowledge that it's happening. Notice what it feels like physically and mentally. Then, send those thoughts on their way by beginning the task at hand again.

In mindfulness meditation, the goal is usually to focus on the breath. Or, that's the assumed goal. The real objective is to notice when your mind has wandered and bring yourself back to focusing on the breath. 

The intention is to see your thoughts and patterns of thought as passing events. You didn't actively call upon them or set out to derail your warmup, meditation session, or performance, but once you notice that it's happening you can move on.

It's ok to also acknowledge anything helpful coming from these thoughts. In fact, it's encouraged. Can you learn anything useful from how you've distracted yourself? If you can, great, keep the material you can use. If you can't, also great, then it becomes even easier to let those thoughts go.

Here's an example of how this could play out in a regular activity, let's say, beginning your first practice session or warm-up of the day:

• You are about to begin practicing when you start thinking about how tired you are. You'd actually really like a coffee, but you already have your instrument half assembled
• As you continue to think you remember the emails that went unanswered yesterday afternoon or maybe a project that's due tomorrow.
• You start thinking about how the semester has gone so far and remember that one studio performance that went terribly. You can't believe that your tone was so awful, and how about those tempo issues you had?
• At this point, you look at the clock and realize, woah! Ten minutes of your free half hour are already gone!! You just want to pack it in and get a coffee. What's the point of getting started now? Will it make you feel any better about that awful performance a few weeks ago?
• Here is where trading overthinking for simplicity can happen. You have realized that your thoughts have spiraled away from you. Are they giving you anything useful to work with? Are you just rehashing things that have already passed? 
• Notice how you feel thinking these thoughts. What are the physical sensations? Give yourself some time to really feel them.
• Now that you've acknowledged that you've been distracted, what was distracting you, and how you feel, you can let it go.
• As simple as that. You have given these thoughts their time, and now you can move on to the task at hand. You can have a fifteen or twenty minute warm up that helps you being your day and focus on skills you are developing and stop your thought pattern where you noticed it. Not to mention, you will likely feel better and accomplished for having stopped a subconscious negative thought pattern.

The real magic of mindfulness meditation is the awareness of what happens in our subconscious, and that's what I think translates so well to life, and especially life for a musician. 

Give it a shot the next time you notice yourself thinking about that note that happened two lines ago or about all the reasons you shouldn't start practicing. Be aware that your subconscious has taken you on a little side trip and then do your best bring yourself back.

It's important to note that we will need to do this again and again, thousands and thousands of times. But like our muscles we train through regular practice, the more you exercise this ability, the stronger it becomes.

Thoughts and feelings are not truths, rather, they're events that we can choose to participate in or not.

I meditate.

Sometimes I love it. Sometimes, it feels like absolute torture. I haven't done it for very long, and it took me a long time to decide to start.

Maybe that all sounds crazy to you. Maybe you are thinking, "who has time to meditate?" or, "that sounds awful!" Sometimes I have those thoughts, too. It can still seem crazy to me to spend time getting to know my mind - shouldn't I already know it based on the amount of time we spend together?

But, when you start thinking about the speed of our every day lives, the amount of information we process, the expectations we have for ourselves (we all have at least one constant, nagging self critique....why isn't my waist smaller? why don't I speak up at work? why I am so bad at xyz?). it makes sense that we might not be super in tune with ourselves. 

I think we could all benefit from a daily dose of meditation.

There's so much to unpack about understanding the difference between thoughts and facts or how we allow our feelings to run over us repeatedly day in and day out, but one of the concepts that has recently thrown on a hundred lightbulbs for me is what's known as efforting. 

This particular idea of effort vs allowance is something I picked up after reading (and re-reading) The Mindful Athlete by George Mumford, and then more recently, from doing a guided meditation also by George Mumford on the Ten Percent App (I would highly recommend both the book and the app).

Sometimes concepts take a few iterations to stick.

As musicians - or anyone in a highly self-driven and competitive field (this absolutely includes being a student!) - we are constantly self-critiquing. It's how we get better, and it's important for continued independent musical growth. However, I know I am not the only musician that has gone so far down the rabbit hole of self-critique that you can't get back out, even (or especially) when you are in the middle of a performance. 

So recently, as I was doing this guided meditation, George was talking about pushing yourself through something because you believe you HAVE to do it, even if it's not working. You're pushing through because you want the end result (that you actually don't even believe you will reach) so badly. He calls this frustration and discomfort that we create for ourselves "wrong effort." Wrong effort lacks sensitivity toward yourself - it's when you are just trying too hard.

Here's what he said that completely smacked me over the head: "When your energy is driving you to the point where you are always looking to see how you are doing, you're not present to what you are doing."

All of the performances where I struggled for an entire concert to forget that one note that was a little out of tune, or cracked, or was just wrong came racing back. Times where I couldn't think about the phrase because I was stuck thinking about how that breath I just took wasn't as good as it was in practice, and any experience where I couldn't turn off the thoughts that are meant for the practice room were suddenly vivid in my mind.

You could also just as easily apply this to the way our culture has us comparing ourselves to others constantly. 

We are not meant to think about how all the time.

Now, I certainly haven't mastered the application of allowance over efforting, but I do know that the way I can get better at this is by working on my mindset. Creating a right effort is creating spaciousness in my attention and allowing the thoughts of how to flow like water. To allow them to come up, and then also consciously allow and encourage them to move on. 

What I'm learning most through meditation right now is the importance of creating space - creating awareness without attachment. I have a long way to go, but in just two or three months of consistent practice, I already see the impact in both performance and every day life. 

Have you ever considered effort vs allowance in your own practice and performance? In what ways are you efforting?