Archives for posts with tag: relaxation

There is so much coming at all of us. It’s almost laughable, what we expect of ourselves. Being an adult is difficult. Being a musician is a struggle. Just being a human is frankly pretty tough. And that’s before we really account for sorrow or the mourning of loved ones, or the kind of stress at work or with family that makes us all wish (at least once in a while) that we could move to a sheep pasture somewhere* in Scotland or Nova Scotia or New Zealand. (Are there sheep there? I don’t know.) And what of wrongdoing? Have we not all been deeply, hurtfully wronged at least a few times? We are just supposed to be all happy and productive amidst all of this crap???

*unless you are already a sheepherder,** in which case I imagine you have your own sort of stresses and worries and you wish you could escape to…? A quiet museum? Maybe an isolated lighthouse?

**I’m sorry sheepherders. I didn’t mean to single you out. Please forgive me.

Okay. DEEP BREATH. We are all, even the sheepherders among us, facing a ton of work and countless demands. Each of us deserves a restful pause and a few exhilarating, deep breaths. And not just once in a while, but several times a day. We are asking too much of ourselves, every last one of us. Let’s allow ourselves more time, more forgiveness, and as silly as it may sound, more breath.

Relaxation is everything. Or truly, more precisely, it’s the most important step toward everything we desire. I’ve written before that artistry reigns supreme above all else in music, and I stand by that. Artistry and expression and emoting are everything. We should literally guide all of our work toward the best artistry we can even imagine. But… relaxation is the very first step to get us there, and really everywhere else we are ever trying to go.

If you are tight, how can you have a warm tone?
If you are rigid, how can you adjust intonation?
If you are tense, how can you possibly be expressive?

Relaxation is fundamental to all of the rest of it. Artistry and expression are the pinnacle, but relaxation is the foundation.

You know when you make a to-do list, maybe even just in your head, and you start to add all sorts of things that probably shouldn’t even be a priority at the moment? I call it “kitchen sinking” where we let ourselves get all worked up in a tizzy like that’s some sort of helpful process. I did it tonight. I was building up my tizzy for at least a good hour, worrying about this and that and the other. It culminated when I was asked what I’d like for dinner and started crying. I’ve shared more vulnerable moments here, so why not this: I was crying about pasta versus black beans and rice. It seemed dire.

I had gotten myself into this state, and was maybe 20% sure I could get myself out of it.

I spent some quiet time in a dim room. I drank  some ice cold water (today was a really hot & humid day, and it wasn’t helping.) Then I had chamomile tea and watched terrible television. My cats came to comfort me the way animals do, you know? And slowly, I felt better. The next time this happens (because it’s bound to eventually…) I think I’ll feel more confident that I can handle it.

Of course my strategies won’t work for everybody all the time; they don’t even work for me all the time. But, today they worked. And tomorrow, I’m going to pick just a few things – small, realistic goals, and work on them one by one.

I played more today than I’ve been able to in the past week combined. (It was still just a tiny bit of playing.) Recovery from any injury feels good, but I believe strongly in erring on the side of over-precaution. I’m continuing to take it easy, ice the back of my neck, and take ibuprofen.  (I’m writing here of my recent pinched nerve, but I’d be lying if I pretended to be completely healed from my foot surgery. Life is random and difficult, you know? I’m trying to heal in several ways, and the foot still hurts.)

Playing today, I was hyper-aware of working with absolutely minimal physical effort. I’m always trying to relax, but now I have a newly heightened focus on it.

However much effort we are exerting, there is always room to reduce it and achieve the same or better results.

So…  apparently I have a small injury. Yesterday, I began having some pain in my right arm. I immediately stopped playing because  I don’t know what’s going on and I don’t want to make it worse. Since then I’ve taught in creative ways, with singing and clapping and explaining. (But that’s not too bad because I already did all that, I just demonstrated (on viola) in addition.)

Today I’m hurting. Kind of a lot. I don’t know exactly what the problem is. Maybe a pinched nerve in my neck. (I’ll keep you guys posted.) It doesn’t mean I stop studying or learning or growing. Right now my full time job is healing and keepin’ on keepin’ on.

When we hurt, it doesn’t mean we stop. Period.

Don’t get clicky, and don’t make your hands fall off. 

Any single practicing technique can go too far; any one trick can become overused and drive us crazy. “Clicky” is what I call the mental state after a little too much time working with a metronome. We get focused and driven and then realize we’ve been at it too long. (Turn it off. Do something else.) Don’t get clicky.

Last week I advised a student to do a specific and highly effective technique, but I think I forgot to add “a ma non troppo.” He was facing a common problem: you’re trying to speed up a section of really quick notes, and it won’t get fast fast enough. There is the obvious method of starting slow and making it faster very gradually, but eventually you need to mix your practice up. Here’s the trick I taught him: try speeding up using an exaggeratedly uneven rhythm. Try long-short throughout the passage, because that quickens the connection between two notes at a time, and gives you time to breathe and think in between those pairs. Later, be sure to counter with similar work with a short-long rhythm, exaggerating the quickness of the other pairs. (Simply dotted rhythms may work, but I advise that you take even more time between the quick notes, as if there is a fermata between each pair.)

Today, working with this student, I realized I hadn’t sufficiently pre-cautioned him against overusing a given practice technique. His hands felt tight and numb and like they were about to fall off. It reminded me to restate here: let’s remember to mix it up. Don’t get clicky, and don’t practice your hands off.

We need to be vessels. I’m not being mushy or corny or bringing any sort of spirituality into this: very simply, music comes through us. Not out of nowhere, of course… it’s a result of tremendous work. But it’s a phenomenon we are channeling on some level, after all that preparation, and we need to be free and relaxed and open. After all of the training and exercises, we need to let go.

In the end, after all that work we need to do less and allow more.

Lately I’m learning plenty of new and great things from my students and our lessons. Yesterday I wrote about Isabelle… and today I’m reflecting on a lesson with Chisom (pronounced ‘Chizz-um’), a very young new student.  (Perhaps this needs to be a bit of a series with these blog entries; there are so many lessons I learn in my lessons… Stay tuned.)

Today’s lesson: what does “practice” mean?

Today I asked Chisom: “do you know what you need to do at home this week?” He quickly answered, “I need to play the music at home!” It was correct and super-quick…but then we needed to get a bit deeper. It continued a bit like this:

Me: and how are you you going to get better at this music? How will you work on it at home?

Chiz: I’m gonna play it again and again

Me: Yes! That is a great way to get better. But also you will be practicing to get better, not just playing for the fun of it… How do you do that?

Chiz: I don’t know. I play all of it?

Me: Sure, but sometimes there are harder parts, right?

Chiz: oh YEAH. yeah. yeah hard parts. and they are super hard. yeah.

Me: there you go. that is what practice is. it is finding those spots and giving them extra attention and help and practice.

Lesson for all of us: there are hard spots. Let’s find them.

Once in a while I catch myself saying something smart-ish in a private lesson and then realize I should heed my own advice.

A young student was working way too hard today. (We all do it. Pretty much all of the time.) His hands were tight and he was making every gesture with visibly intense effort. It was just all too much work. I heard myself tell him to ‘let his brain do more work so his hands could do less.’

Aha! Who just said that?

Later I had the most productive and physically-relaxed practice I’ve had in a long while. Reminder to self: do what you would tell others to do.

Even though I am constantly talking/thinking/writing about relaxation, there IS a certain amount of tension required to do our work. (Or really any work for that matter.) And when things get tougher, it might take slightly more tension. It’s important, then, that we learn to release any increase in tension/stress/work/effort as soon as we can.

Let’s remember to release. Even if we start from a place of relaxation (which is hard enough), it is inevitable that we will hit at least SOME tension. Let’s release that tension in the moment; better music and happier musicians will emerge.