Education is built upon a series of agreements from everyone involved. 

The teacher or educator has accepted the responsibility of showing up prepared, being aware and respectful of the student and doing their best to deliver the material.

The student has accepted the responsibility of also showing up prepared, with an open mind, ready to learn, and to exercise self discipline. 

Although this seems obvious, we often enter into these agreements blindly. A teacher may show up to class and simply recite material without engaging, or a student may just show up to a lesson without the conviction to put energy into their participation. 

Being a student in 2022 is certainly different than it was twenty years ago, ten years ago, or even pre-pandemic. I find my students faced with towering academic expectations, endless distractions, and anxiety/general despondence. The world around us can make it difficult to focus or even figure out what the right thing to focus on is. 

As a teacher, I give a lot of thought to how I can help my students face the challenges of education. Helping them develop an awareness of the unspoken agreements we make is a good start.

Even better, I can help them establish the agreements they need to make with themselves for a positive, healthy learning experience. 

Below are the personal agreements I will share with my students as we begin a new semester so that we can have clear expectations for ourselves and each other as we enter our lessons and classes. 

Personal Agreements for Healthy Learning:

In order to have a great educational experience, it is to the student’s benefit to have a clear understanding of the teacher’s expectations (as laid out in the studio policy). 

Even more important is for the student to have a clear set of expectations for themselves - to have an outline for self discipline and keeping an open mind that creates a capacity for learning.

Accomplishing what you set out to do requires self respect, respect for others, willpower and commitment. Your time as a student is designed for you to develop these traits, and being conscious of how you are growing them will help create a healthy learning experience.

These are the standards I hold myself to in my interactions with you, and I encourage you to do the same in your personal life, our studio, and with your peers.

• I will show up as my best self in the moment. Everyone has bad days, but we owe it to ourselves to be present to our peers and teachers in the ways we are able. Even on a bad day there is something we can learn and a positive step we can take.

 

• I will be punctual. When someone is reserving time for you, make the most of it. Do your best to arrive early and ready to work.

 

• I will communicate respectfully. Life happens, but if you are sick or late communicate with those who are expecting you ahead of when you are expected to arrive. Unless in extreme emergency, it is never ok to “ghost” someone who is counting on you. 

 

• I will honor my commitments. This includes understanding your limits. It is easy to over-commit. Keep track of what you are agreeing to and establish clear priorities for yourself. Learn through trial and error when you should stop taking on new commitments. 

 

• I will learn to manage my time. Time management is a learned skill. Try as many ways of tracking your calendar and assignments as needed, and ask for help or suggestions at any time.

 

• I will turn off notifications on my phone, watch, tablet and computer when I need to focus. This means when you are in class, in a lesson, studying, or in the practice room. Our brain is not built to switch tasks every thirty seconds, and learning requires focus. Give yourself the space to dive deep into whatever you are doing in the moment. Respect those around you by giving them your undivided attention.

 

• I will make the most of my environment. Attend as many performances as possible. Support your peers. Ask questions and cultivate a curious mind. 

 

• I know that the goal is progress, not perfection. The objective is not perfection, but rather improvement. Remain open and willing to try your best, even when there is room to grow (there always is). 

 

• I will practice and be prepared to try new things in my lessons and ensembles. Growing your musicianship takes effort - commit to doing the amount that is required.

 

• I will get out of every experience what I put into it. The amount of energy we are willing to give determines what we get out of or back from any endeavor. By committing fully you are opening up the potential for self development. 

Although these are “personal agreements” and they ask you to show up for yourself, you are not alone in your commitment to learn. Remember that you have a support network and it is always available to you.

Being a good student, colleague, educator, professional, or human (!) requires humility and willpower. Having the willingness to show up for yourself, your instructors, your peers, or your future students will not always be easy but it will always be meaningful. 


I _______________________________________________ commit to these self-agreements and a mindful approach to healthy learning on this (date) ______________________________________.

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2020 kicked my love of reading into high gear. As the year progressed I needed something to look forward to that wasn’t on my phone or the internet. Although I was practicing, it wasn’t fitting the bill - it came with it’s own baggage at the time, since we had no idea when we could perform again (and because we know that while practicing can be enjoyable it's not necessarily relaxing).

Reading became the perfect quarantine activity and escape, and I ended 2020 having read 63 books, deeply in love with reading in a way I hadn’t been since childhood.

I love using Goodreads to keep track of what I’ve read and what I want to read. They also allow you to set a reading challenge for yourself each year of how many books you’d like to read. Coming out of 2020 I couldn’t know how a busier schedule would play out for my reading habit, so I stuck with a goal of reading 40 books in 2021.

As it turned out, I still loved having something to focus on that wasn’t on my phone, or related to work or the breaking news of the minute, and ended the year with a total of 53 books read.

Overall, I read mostly non-fiction in 2021. There were a number of books I read that were genuinely impactful on my day to day actions and that I plan to read again. I hope that you find some of these helpful, or just plain enjoyable as well.

Looking ahead at 2022, I’ve set a Goodreads goal for at least 50 books. However many books I read this year, I hope I continue to love reading just as much or even more. 

What books have you loved recently? What are you planning to read? Let me know so I can build my list for 2022!

​For now, on to the best books of last year (in no particular order)!

The Upside of Stress by Kelly McGonigal 
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There were several books I read this year that I think should be required reading for college students, especially students facing high stakes performance fields (medicine, music, law, etc.). The Upside of Stress is one of these books. McGonigal unwinds our cultural perception that all stress is bad by teaching us about mindsets and the different types of stress responses we might have. She lays out practical ways we can begin to shift our relationship with stress and understand our reactions. 

Throughout the book McGonigal acknowledges that there are types of stress that can wreak havoc on our mind and body, but that much of the stress we encounter in our lives is something we can use to move forward and grow if we understand it. This book was easy to absorb and the suggestions it gives are easily applied as many of them are shifts in mindset.

Peak Mind by Amishi Jha

Peak Mind made its way into my favorites this year for its approachable, science-backed endorsement of the benefits of meditation on attention. This is an excellent book for anyone who is skeptical about the tangible advantages of meditation. Jha walks us through the experiences of skeptics, including herself, who find calm and awareness through daily meditation, and also shows us the research behind why just 12 minutes a day can be enough to make a positive impact. 

In our fast moving and attention-seeking culture, this book does an excellent job of heralding the benefits of meditation for our distracted minds, as we as suggesting how you can get started if you’d like to try.

Added bonus: Jha has also done a number of extremely informative and interesting podcast interviews for anyone who’d like a preview of her research and perspectives.

​What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami

This book was an unexpected favorite. (I can’t even recall where I saw it recommended.) I’ve never liked running, but a lifetime of practicing my instrument and growing as a musician feels like its own kind of marathon. What I loved so much about this memoir was Murakami’s thoughtful reflection on how running over the course of his life allowed him to reflect on his experiences and tie them together. He eloquently describes the personal growth and reflection that comes from pursuing something that can’t be achieved quickly, or maybe ever, to the level you would like. I loved how he touched on the way all the parts of our lives are connected.

​I think anyone dedicated to an art form or athletic pursuit would enjoy this meaningful reflection.

Atomic Habits by James Clear

James Clear writes one of my favorite weekly newsletters and has one of my favorite accounts to follow on social media. His claim to fame is codifying existing research and breaking it down into actionable steps and digestible pieces of information that are meant to improve our daily lives and help us develop, well, atomic habits.

It would be impossible to summarize this book in the amount of space I’d like to use here. It includes so much useful information about our behaviors and suggestions that we can implement, I’m certain you couldn’t apply it all in just one read.

Throughout the book I found myself inspired to make small adjustments and reconsider how I thought about and approached my daily habits and routines. This is definitely one to read more than once - I’m sure that I will take new things away from it each time.

The Tiger: A True Story of Vengeance and Survival by John Vaillant 

This was a book I couldn’t put down.

​The Tiger reads like fiction but is a completely true story about a man eating tiger that took place in Siberia in the late 90s. I was fascinated by the culture, the Russian history the book provides, and the relationship people who live in Russia’s far east have with the tigers that share the region. This book includes cultural perspective, history, and educates the reader on conservation and the protection of tigers living in the wild all wrapped up into the excellent storytelling of this real life thriller.

Unwinding Anxiety by Judson Brewer

Judson Brewer’s book Unwinding Anxiety is another that I believe all college students (and adults) should read. In the way that McGonigal’s Upside of Stress breaks down how we can use our understanding of stress to work with it, Brewer outlines how we can unravel the cyclical experiences of anxiety we can get stuck in through understanding how it works.

I found this book helpful in working through my own performance anxiety and have it high on my list of books to read again. Like other books I loved this year, Unwinding Anxiety provides actionable steps and clear explanations that make it approachable and useful. It also encourages the embodiment of our experiences, much like we would in meditation or breathwork, as a way of facing our feelings of anxiety.

Breath by James Nestor

Although this is the only book on breathing I’m including in my “best of” list, I actually read six books on breathing and breathwork in 2021, which has become a topic of fascination for me. Understanding the way our modern lives have affected how we breathe and why it’s so important is something that could benefit anyone, and Nestor’s book is a great starting point.

Learning about the all implications of how we breathe has brought up so many questions for me about why wind instrumentalists aren’t thinking about the breath outside of how we inhale and exhale to produce a sound. 

Nestor’s book takes us through his own experience of breathwork and through his reasearch to understand all the ways the breath affects our mind and body. It’s enlightening and enjoyable to read - my top recommendation from 2021!

Have you noticed the tendency of those around you to crane their neck forward as they read on their phones? Maybe you notice yourself doing it!

Or, have you ever caught yourself pushing your head forward to meet your flute?

There is an epidemic of this forward neck position in our modern culture thanks to computers and phones (text neck, anyone?).

Any time we habitually use a muscle in a certain way, for better or worse, we create a pattern and pathway of movement. Repetitive motion reinforces the pattern of movement.

As a result of modern devices, most of us have a lack of mobility in the cervical spine.

So, what can we do to counteract text neck and regain mobility?
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So how can you create comfortable alignment?

Stack up in an Easy Seat:

Sitting down with both feet on the floor (or cross legged), find your ischial tuberosity or sit bones (the two pointy bones you can feel pressing into the chair).

Release your weight into the chair, letting it press down evenly through both sit bones. Relax the muscles around your hips and the muscles in your legs.

Notice where your rib cage is in relation to your hips. If it is in front of or behind the hips and sit bones, bring the ribs in line with the hips and sit bones.

Notice the alignment of the chest, then bring the chest in line with the ribs, the hips and the sit bones.

Notice the alignment of your head and bring it to rest on top of your chest, ribs, hips and sit bones.

Stay and breathe in and out through the nose slowly in this posture for at least five breaths.

The biggest benefit of this exercise is awareness. How does you spine feel now compared to before? How is this different than how you usally sit or stand?

You can recreate this alignment anywhere - even when standing!

November - Accepting Without Judgement

Something musicians struggle with that I believe we can all relate to is self-criticism. Being a musician requires that we critique our abilities in an effort to improve. Too often, though, that objective critical eye turns entirely to self-judgement.

Being overly self critical isn't something that only happens in the practice room, though.

We all experience it daily, by thinking offhanded thoughts like "why did I say that, it was so dumb" or "look at what that other person is doing, I'm so lazy and unsuccessful." There are so many other ways we discount our efforts or impede them when we are being judgemental or expecting too much of ourselves.

One of the things I love most about yoga and mindfulness meditation is the way both disciplines encourage self acceptance. Not in a fluffy, overly positive way, but through recognition of all the things we do and feel and the acceptance that they are neither good or bad, but simply parts of the present moment.

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.

You get out of it what you put into it.

I think there is so much truth in this saying. Our perspective, determination, attitude and commitment determine so much of what happens to us in life.

My healthy optimism can’t magically create a job opportunity, but it can help me to be more engaged with what’s going on around me, maybe leading me to be in the “right place at the right time.”

The other reason I love this saying is the implication that the responsibility sits with us. I truly believe that we must take responsibility for ourselves and our lives by putting our best effort (whatever it is at the moment) into everything we do. 

We create, or hinder, our own growth in immeasurable ways every day.

What brought this saying to mind recently were the juries my college students had to prepare for at the end of their fall semester. There are stringent requirements for performing repertoire, scales, sight-reading and even improvisation. They have to prepare program notes and a repertoire list as well, and all of this after a weekend of some of their biggest performances of the year, right at the beginning of final exams. 

Anyone who has been a music major can relate to the insane conclusion of each semester. Those who have been through it may also be able to relate to the sense that if we ignore it for most of the semester maybe it will all just go away…yet before you know it, you’re looking at a panel of woodwind faculty waiting to hear a G# melodic minor scale.

Why is it that we procrastinate on things like scales and preparing for these difficult performance situations? 

I suppose the answer could be different for all of us, but I have a theory that deep down we all avoid these things because they are hard work and we still might fail.

Learning repertoire and scales is difficult. It takes a lot of time, organization, and energy to learn new material and figure out how to get around our technical difficulties. 

However, if we’re willing to put the effort into it, just like in life, there are concrete, measurable results. We can see (and hear) our improvement both in the material we are practicing and the way it shows up in other repertoire or technical study, just like you can see the impact sleeping for an extra hour or spending less time online has on your everyday life.

When I see my students avoiding their scales or half-committing to working on them, I want to remind them of all the ways sitting in the work and frustration will benefit them on the other side.

So, if you’re a high school or college student who needs to perform your scales or other technical exercises for a grade (or if you’re a working professional who performs for a paycheck!), let’s walk through what you can put in to your scales (and your life!) that will turn into long term rewards:

Identify the goal:

• What is the specific piece, exercise, type of scale, etc. that you need to learn
• What are you struggling with the most? (Ex: identifying the accidentals in minor scales, finding the relative minor, a difficult technical passage, etc.)
• What is the end goal? It could be a specific tempo, an upcoming performance, etc.

Get to know the material:

• Understand what the scale or piece is supposed to sound like. (Ex: can you identify the difference between a harmonic minor scale and a melodic minor scale when you hear them?)
• Practice slowly to develop consistent accuracy. There is no shortcut for this.

Practice the hard stuff:

• Do not spend all your time playing the fun, easy scales or melodies. 
• Use the bulk of your practice time to do the scales (or passages) that are most challenging and use techniques from your toolkit to help you get better at them!
• Integrate difficult passages thoughtfully with tools like pathway practicing.
• Use variety (speed, rhythm, the order you practice things in, etc.) once you know the material to create consistency and flexibility

Stay organized:

• Keep a list or chart of what scales or patterns you are learning. Note the tempo and any remaining challenges regularly.
• Stay aware of deadlines or dates of performances - are you on track to be ready or do you need to adjust your practice plan?

Visualize (Mental Practice):

• For scales, this could mean writing out the different minors or the different types of chords
• For anything you practice, this could mean visualizing playing it with great detail
• Quiz yourself on scales and patterns
• Listen to pieces you are learning to understand and know the accompaniment

Share with others:

• Play for people you trust and ask for feedback
• Play for people who make you feel nervous so you can experience a performance situation

 
Maintain a positive outlook: 

• Remember that difficult things take time and effort
• Recognize your successes (what has gotten measurably better?)
• Remember that not being able to play something the way you want yet isn’t a failure
• Be your own teacher - how could you work on whatever difficulties remain?

Most of us are more capable than we give ourselves credit for. We become discouraged when we can’t do something instantly or quickly, dismissing it as a failure. 

Designate your goal and determine the work that needs to be done. Create a plan and commit to it. Put in the work.

And while all of that is crucial, what we have to remember is that in order to be able to DO anything we have to first be willing to TRY. 

Once you’ve done the work, trust yourself. Focus on the outcome - the big picture of the exercise or piece you’ve learned - and go for it. Play for others and really give your best effort.

Show up for yourself knowing you can rely on everything you put in.

The end of the year is such a busy time for musicians, that it can often feel like a game of survivor. I haven’t spent as much time over the last few weeks thinking about teaching concepts as I have just making sure I don’t miss any rescheduled lessons or rehearsals. 

The thing that has been on my mind though is how little interest I have in social media when I’m this busy. I still share things and browse a bit, but the amount of time (and the amount of available brain space) I have is so reduced that it’s a great reminder what activities in our work lives (and personal lives) really matter the most.

How much time should I really be spending on social media and content, even when I’m not this busy?

It’s an important question to ask.

When Facebook and Instagram became popular I had very little interest in either. My interest in Instagram increased when I decided to dedicate a page to my studio, teaching, and performing. It’s fun to curate my ideas about music and teaching (which is also a big reason why I blog) and I enjoy creating posts that look nice together. 

Even though it’s enjoyable to share on a nice looking Instagram feed, the last few weeks have me wondering if that time wouldn’t be better spent on my website or (gasp!) real life art and music. 

Although I try to be really mindful of how and what I share, I often think like a lot of what I see on social media is phony, super watered down, or just not very useful. Given that outlook, it’s easy for me to feel like there’s not much of a point to generating content.

There are truly authentic and interesting musicians I’ve met online, or have been introduced to by friends via Instagram. They’re really interesting people and I feel like I learn a lot from them - but it can be so hard to find these types of people when you have to weed through so much stuff.

When I run out of steam to share and try to connect, it’s often because of that feeling of sifting through a lot of junk to find a few treasures. Who could possibly find the content I do create in this sea of messiness?

All of these seemingly discouraging aspects of social media have actually made me feel much better about the ebb and flow of sharing and about using resources outside of social media like my website and a monthly newsletter. I am reminded that not posting when I’m too busy for it, when I'm disinterested, or just not wanting to learn to make reels is ok. 

If I’m going to be authentic in what I share, that means I need to be real in both the actual content and when/how I post. Perhaps this also means not going with the crowd, but using a platform or format that feels like it fits me better. Maybe I will reach less people this way, but it seems like those interactions would be more genuine and meaningful. 

Nothing we do works unless it’s in alignment with our personal ideals, morals and motives. The world would have us believe we should all look alike and share in the same ways all the time, but that’s impossible and boring! 

What are some ways you could get creative online that would feel authentic to you?

The best way for you to use social media, have a music career, or do anything is to do it like you. 

Back when Facebook first started I made a gratitude post almost every Thanksgiving. I love seeing them pop up in the memories feature and being reminded of where I was finding pockets of joy over all those years.

I stopped sharing in such a personal way quite a while ago on social media. It’s hard to draw a line between “personal” and “professional” social media now - to me, it all feels public. 

I have become more open with what I share, but with more parameters and boundaries. I will share openly about my experiences in my career and the ways that my personal life and work life come together, but now I prefer to keep detailed of my personal life much more to myself. 

Seeing all my old gratitude posts in my memories on social media this week made me feel a little nostalgic. As I’ve gotten older, I think I have a less blindly optimistic perspective. As we age we experience so many joyful events, but we are also subject to more sadness, loss, and difficult situations. But I don’t feel less happy by any means. In fact, I think that the broader experience of life has left me generally more satisfied and fulfilled. 

There is an article that I read when I was in college, and although I don’t remember where I read it I think of it often. It said something to the effect that the culture in the United States is one of the only ones that emphasizes that we should be happy all the time and avoid sadness and disappointment at all costs. Other cultures believe that happiness is only one part of the full experience of life, which should also include sadness, disappointment, and other undesirable  and desirable emotions. 

I’ve tried to carry this idea with me since then, that all the emotions we experience are necessary parts of our lives. As I develop a meditation practice and dive deeper into yoga, that same concept comes up in these ancient practices. 

When I think about thankfulness this holiday season, I can see how both the best and worst parts of my year have played into the immense amount of gratitude I am able to feel this holiday season. 

I started new jobs this year that are the culmination of hard work and a commitment to right effort toward the concepts and activities that I feel drawn to. I’m being challenged to step into a better version of myself in these positions, and to release the things and positions I have outgrown. It is both gratifying and exciting to feel that I am at a stepping off point for a new stage of my professional life. 

On the other end of the spectrum, we lost a family member to cancer this year. It was an intense experience that spanned just under six months from diagnosis. We have spent very few weekends at home and a lot of time traveling. It left much of the time we did spend at home feeling less than productive and fairly disheveled. 

But even embedded in this loss and deep rooted sadness, there is gratitude. We spent more time with family than we ever would have otherwise, we have talked about difficult emotions and losses, and we have a new appreciation for our time together and each other. All of these things are positive, although it is grief and loss that brought them about. 

Considering all of these events and emotions, I realized that what I am most grateful for this holiday season is perspective. I am grateful to understand that all of the events we experience are important to the full scope of our lives. I am grateful that as we age and continue to grow our life view grows with us. 

Of course I wish that my whole family was together this Thanksgiving without illness and loss, but I am still sitting with deep gratitude for what we do have. 

I hope that if your year has included something good or something bad, or more likely if it has included both, that you can find some gratitude through your perspective this holiday season. Gratitude in your ability to feel both happiness and sadness, and to make the most of all the experiences of your life. 

Wishing you peace, joy and gratitude this Thanksgiving and always.

Musicians spend an incredible amount of time in lessons, masterclasses, studio classes and ensembles from the time we begin to play our instrument. From the first sound until you graduate from your final degree or certificate, we are led and supported by mentors and peers.

And then…it stops.

The community support of being in school evaporates at our final graduation. It can feel as if the competition meter gets turned to max and we suddenly need to prove our worth at every turn. Where before (if we are in a healthy learning environment) there is room for exploration and mistakes, now we must suddenly and magically know how to navigate whatever is thrown at us. 

Our training leads us to believe that this is the way it should be. That once you walk out the school doors for the last time you will understand exactly how to proceed with job applications, auditions, evaluations of your teaching, rigorous tenure processes and more. 

For a while, this might work. The belief that we can figure it out can carry us a long way. But music is a field that brings tremendous highs and lows - a great performance, a bombed audition; a fantastic rehearsal, a student who is disruptive and unresponsive. 

Eventually though, a version of decision fatigue sets in. We are constantly analyzing and questioning ourselves, and it might feel like the whole world is doing the same. 

After a particularly high point in my own career development, I had a sudden and jarringly negative performance experience. It rattled my sense that I knew what I was doing. Had I just been making it up all along? Were all of the positive things that happened coincidences? When was everyone else going to realize that I was flying blind?

What followed was a rough patch of anxiety and self doubt. We all go through these ups and downs, but this time felt different. I just couldn’t pull myself out of it, and the fear that others might see a weakness in my performance abilities was overwhelming.

Then a friend suggested that I read George Mumford’s book The Mindful Athlete. Mumford turned his life around through mindfulness and went on to coach the Chicago Bulls and the LA Lakers in mindfulness. Some of the topics he teachers are right effort and flow.

The book was eye opening to me, and the beginning of a shift in my thinking. If athletes like Michael Jordan, Kobe Bryant and Lebron James at the absolute highest level of their career were getting coached on mindset and flow, why did I think I needed to figure it out all alone, by myself?

As I continued to grow an interest in mindfulness and performance mindset I also started to more deeply explore yoga and anatomy. 

Again and again as I was learning about the mind and body I kept thinking, why isn’t anyone teaching and coaching musicians on these topics?

How much stress, anxiety and injury could we avoid with a better understanding of our anatomy, brain and nervous system?

Even further, how much could we benefit from continued outside perspective on the way we approach our craft?

I don’t think we have to look very far for the answer. 

If you’ve ever watched the olympics, you are bound to have seen an event where the expected champion had a poor run and didn’t medal, or won a bronze instead of a gold. Are they disappointed in the outcome? Yes, of course. Do they come back and try again? Almost always.

Athletes at the highest level spend all their energy on building the skills they need, including mindset, with continued feedback, and when you compare them to musicians I think the difference in emotional response becomes clear. 

Through their training and receiving immediate and outside feedback athletes are miles ahead of us at believing in their strengths and developed abilities, and knowing that one bad day does not predict the future or define our worth.

Think about it this way - the NBA is full of the world’s most talented basketball players, and yet in every game one team is guaranteed to lose. One team is bound to make mistakes and not play up to the level of their opponents. Do those losses define them? No, they become the material from which they grow.

Compare these examples to how we often feel like a terrible or inadequate musician after an out of tune note or a crummy rehearsal (let alone a bad audition) and I think it becomes clear that athletes are doing something right. 

There is a perception in our field that if you ask for help or instruction after a certain point you are a bad musician, not enough, or unworthy. 

I think that’s total garbage, and that the biggest key to a healthier career and workplace for musicians is to get over this idea that we must be superhuman.

You might be starting to think, well, that’s all fine, but how do I apply it to my own life if I can’t afford lessons, a personal trainer, mindfulness guide and mindset coach?

I think there are a lot of ways we can open bring feedback and continued learning into our lives, some of which don’t cost a thing.

Ideas for creating support and connection:

• Reach out to friends who are musicians. Finding a group of likeminded peers to bounce ideas off of and collect trusted feedback from is incredibly rewarding both personally and professionally.
• Learn about improving and protecting your physical health. Find activities that you truly enjoy that can help you improve your physical wellness and learn about the body (walking, yoga, running, weightlifting, etc.).
• Learn about improving and protecting your mental health. Find activities that allow you to explore your mindset and its affect on your practice and performance (meditation, tai chi, therapy, mindfulness, etc.)
• Be more vulnerable. You don’t have to share everything, but try not to be scared to let people hear recordings of you or place too much importance on every rehearsal, performance or audition.
• Reach out for feedback. Ask for feedback on an idea you are excited about, or take a lesson with someone new
• Learn. Absorb new information about the things that interest you. Enjoying mindfulness? Download a meditation app, listen to some podcasts or check out some books on the subject.
• Look for online communities. I was so skeptical about this until I did my yoga teacher training online. If we are open to it, there are many meaningful connections to be made online with others who share your interests.
• Work with a coach or agency. Find a professional who can support you personally or your business. This is a significant financial investment, so do your research first. Make sure that you are working with someone who aligns with your ideals and standards and that they have the right credentials and a history of success in their business.

My best teachers taught me that we are students for life. 

We never stop learning, and you never know what you might learn tomorrow, next year, or in five years that will change your perspective and help you move to the next level.

I want to point out here that I'm not suggesting we don't trust the skills we have grown. We have to stay in touch with our abilities and our intuition. What I am suggesting is that perhaps one of the most important ways we can unlock a more gratifying experience is through insight from trusted sources and community with those who inspire us. 

As part of my own commitment to learning and creating a system of feedback and community, I enrolled in George Mumford’s Mindful Athlete course this fall. Every six months there’s a study group where we dive deep into how we can expand our access to what George calls “the masterpiece within” through the concepts of mindfulness.

I just finished my first study group this week, and the process of learning in a community of others who also want to live and work with intention and heart was so rewarding. 

I’m not going it alone, and I don’t have to. Neither do you.

Through sharing what we’re learning and how we’re growing we all become better, so let me know: how do you bring feedback and community into your professional life

Think about how you practiced when you first learned.
…

Lots and lots of playing the same thing over and over, right?

Think about how you practice now.
…

Hopefully it’s very different and your teachers over the years have taught you many useful practice techniques. 

Examples of these techniques include …

•  practicing slowly
•  note grouping/note leading
•  changing the rhythm
•  changing the articulation
•  flipping the octave
•  filling in intervalls
•  finding skeleton melodies

…the list is almost endless.

But why do we practice in these ways and what is the objective of doing so? Think beyond getting the notes right and doing it “better.” Knowing the reason why may just be the key to getting what you do in practice to stick.

Getting to the root of it

Almost everything we practice is a transition of some kind, and that is what we’re tackling when we practice.

• The transition from not playing to playing a beautiful pianissimo
• The transition of a low note to a high note
• The transition of many quick articulated notes
• The transition between tempos/rhythms/meters
• The transition between dynamics
• The transition between blowing out and breathing in
• Etc., etc., etc.

When we use the many practice techniques we learn in lessons we are facilitating transitions.

Really consider what happens when you practice a difficult interval and finally get it to work. You’ve probably spent a few minutes playing it over and over - perhaps you were being quite detailed and dove into your toolbox of practice techniques to really sort out what needed to happen to make it consistent.

So, what actually happened to make it work?

Your air and muscles happened to be in the right places at the right times and the interval came out?

Yes, but there’s more to it than that. If you really did the work on this transition there is way more to it than that. In the case of the interval, you learned how the distance you’re seeing between the notes translates to how you lead up to the interval and what repeatable physical action your embouchure must take in combination with your air when you see that interval on the page.

Where it began, and where it’s going 

When we are kids learning to play our instrument and blindly repeating things over and over, it’s likely that we aren’t reading all that carefully. 

If you teach, how many students have you had that blatantly don’t read a rest or slightly difficult rhythm and play something more simple instead? 

Another example of this is the student who has been told the key signature does not include Eb, but continues to play them ad nauseam. These students are not really reading - they are skimming and working off of previously developed muscle memory.

When we practice in a detailed way, pulling resources out of our toolbox, we read carefully. We identify the details of what is printed on the page, and in turn build a pathway between what we see and what we know. It gives us the ability to overwrite what we might have thought we read at first glance if it was wrong. 

You might remember times that you were detailed in reading, but still couldn’t facilitate whatever difficulty you were working on. I am reminded of my students when they know what’s on the page, but continue to play something over and over at a tempo that is too fast making the same mistakes.

When we practice well, we draw a line between what we have discovered by reading carefully to the physical act of playing our instrument. We connect the dots between what we see and the physical actions required to make it happen through a detailed consideration and exploration of what creates the desired result. 

As an example, let’s think about a passage that is written in difficult key signature. Maybe it has some double sharps and a few intervals that feel really awkward under the fingers. Reading and identifying the notes and intervals is not enough. Playing slowly is a step in the right direction because we can build accuracy, but if we speed up we often still miss. The pathway we need to build is between what we see and know and the physicality of doing in the difficult transitions. 

Through smart practice, we can be specific about the air and embouchure shape that is necessary, and also the feeling of the intervals and rhythms in our fingers. Understanding the physicality of the line is crucial to our ability to replicate it every time we play the piece. 

When we practice in a truly productive way, we identify the difficult transitions and dissect the issues using informed practice techniques from the toolbox we fill during our studies. In turn, our brain builds stronger and stronger pathways for the actions we need.

How to implement Pathway Practicing

Begin by reading in a detailed way, going beyond skimming the music. What follows is using our available tools to fully connect what we see on the page to what needs to physically take place to create a consistent result. 

The key to performing well is not using practice techniques sporadically in practice. 

The key to consistently performing well is the identification of transitions and the use of practice techniques to facilitate the physical and mental actions that the music demands. By approaching music in this detailed and methodical way, we create strong, mindful visual and physical connections. This is how we build neural pathways that are necessary for consistent success through practice. 

Pathway Practicing:

(Practice techniques incorporated throughout)
1.  Rough read through
2.  Identify transitions
3.  Read with detail 
4.  Identify physical demands 
5.  Practice to connect the visual and physical

When you went to school for music, what did you want to do?

What did you hope to be?

A soloist? An orchestral musician? A music teacher or college professor?

If I think back to the beginning of my undergraduate degree, I wanted to be a music teacher in a public school. Shortly after starting school I realized that I loved teaching, but that I wanted to focus on teaching the flute rather than all the instruments. My goal shifted to being a college professor, or maybe a private studio teacher until my other plans came together. 

My friends at the time had goals very similar to mine. We admired those who already had orchestral jobs, professorships, or taught in successful music programs. 

We set our sights on these lofty and limited positions and got to work. 

As we finished our degrees we took, and were rejected from, grad school auditions and job interviews. Of course we were accepted to a few and we all moved on to the next stepping stone, maybe a little stung from the rejection of the programs and positions we deemed not quite ready for, but still determined

As we all went our separate ways there continued to be measurements of our abilities. A jury, a concerto competition, a job interview, a teaching evaluation. We were always being measured against something, and presumably these measurements, criteria, and categories would prepare us to move up the next rung in the classical music ladder.

I was fortunate, through good fortune, hard work and tears, to have moderate success at each rung. I went to good schools and had great teachers. My playing improved. After graduate school, I got an adjunct job and grew a private studio. 

Everything was coming together toward my goal.

Maybe.

I started to feel dissatisfied. I wasn’t really playing much, and when I did play I worried so much that it needed to be perfect I didn’t really enjoy making music at all.

I was bored with my very predictable routine, although I loved teaching and working with all of my students. 

I decided the answer was to move and challenge myself more. I uprooted and moved half way across the country to try again.

But, eventually, the same dissatisfaction crept in. I felt bored, listless, and unmotivated. 

I had achieved many of the goals I set as a freshman in college, so shouldn’t I feel happier? As I was faced these goals I’d had in mind for years head on I felt a strange separation from them. 

I had set them so long ago, did I still want the same things? They were the things we were told were prestigious and that we should aspire to, but did I really want them? 

Even when I “achieved” them, there was still a higher level to reach. In some ways, that’s the great thing about music - we can always improve, always grow and learn.  But does the target ever stop moving?

Many of us sacrifice relationships, where we live, and how we spend so much of our life for these moving targets without any guarantee of ever reaching them. 

Of course, we love what we do. There’s no way we would dedicate the time and effort that it requires otherwise. And I’m certainly not suggesting that our traditional goals aren’t worthwhile. 

But too much attention to finding success from an external source, worthwhile or not, will leave us disappointed and dissatisfied. We feel watched and judged, not good enough. We often feel alone and  forget that other musicians are going through the same things.

Ultimately, the thing that started to bring satisfaction back into my musical life was getting in touch with why I love what I do. Why do I enjoy teaching? Why do I love to make music? 

Remembering why we are driven to be in music can also help us remember what we have to offer - what makes us unique and able to contribute. 

When we lose sight of our “why”s and get too focused on the moving target of a career (especially in classical music) we can find ourselves striving toward something incredibly demanding without enjoying the challenge. 

So why do you want to be a musician? (Subtract the fame and glamour!) Why do you want to teach others about music? (Forget about the “big job” and admiration you might some day win!)

What is it deep down that drives your dedication?

If we always let others set the bar for us we may never be good enough. If we remember our strengths, our reasons, and set our own bar then we are more likely to find success that is personally gratifying. 

There is so much joy to be found in music, but the real joy is found when you’re not worried about anyone else’s moving target.

Success becomes available to you when you tap into the joy of learning how to identify it for yourself.