Is fear holding you back?

As musicians, overcoming our fears is one of our biggest challenges. Allowing ourselves to become vulnerable vehicles for the music we wish to share is a momentous task, immediately peeling away the layers to expose our truest selves to an audience full of people we may have never met.

After the performance, however, no matter how fearful you were prior to or during it, it's a time of intense exhilaration. You can't wait for the next opportunity to perform. How can we cultivate that fearless feeling in the performance itself and live life as it's meant to be lived?

A few weeks ago, I began reading Madeline Bruser's The Art of Practicing for a second time. This time, I've been able to get through the book much more quickly and it's been a surprise to find that I've absorbed so much of the information in the book and am applying it to my music making. It's such an excellent resource to have, and obviously worth re-reading every now and then.

Near the end of the book, in Chapter 14, Bruser speaks about transforming fear into fearlessness. In the section, she discusses how fear may keep us from discovering a new way of identifying ourselves. 

I took this away - each time I experience self doubt, I am fearful. I'm experiencing fear in the times that I don't feel capable of performing to my fullest potential. Instead of waiting for a "big break" to come, start transforming performances with fearlessness. Don't limit your performance to what fear dictates you can handle.

I know what it feels like to be fearless. My study of Body Mapping and the Alexander Technique has enabled me to slowly integrate a complete mind-body connection into my awareness as I practice and perform. In choosing to live my life with awareness, I am choosing to let go of the fears that can restrain me in performance.

Transforming fear into fearlessness is the first step to performing with freedom and true artistry. As your performances come to life, your confidence will blossom and your identity may shape into something more powerful than you ever thought possible. This will bring more opportunities your way.

We spend so much time seeking validation from external sources that we forget what is possible on our own. When you allow the validation to come from within, the chance of getting that "big break" will become more likely. As with anything in life, end gaining does nothing but cause despair when we get off track. Simply accepting what is and cultivating resiliency will benefit you in many more ways than endless start and stops.

You can transform fear into fearlessness by having the courage to share what is in your heart, enjoying the process and letting go of what you think you should be doing. Instead, live with passion, live with heart and most of all, live with the confidence that you are an artist in the present moment.

In the words of Bruser, "We can keep growing only if we face our fear and dare to step forward through it."

Can't Fight this Feeling

Just like the REO Speedwagon song, there's a lot of feeling that you just can't fight in the middle of a performance and you shouldn't.

I was thrilled and honored when my brother-in-law asked me to play for his wedding. His fiance's mother, a music teacher and violinist, would be playing with me.

In my own family, I've always been asked to play for happy and sad occasions. I sang for my brother's wedding and I played my flute at both my grandfathers' funerals. Honoring and connecting to someone I love in this way has become a way of expressing happiness or dealing with grief.

My husband and I have been married for almost 9 and a half years, so I'm close to his family. I knew that I wouldn't be emotionally removed from the happiness of the occasion especially since I had grown close to the bride over the course of the past year.

These kinds of performances are the best way to witness and examine what happens when you're caught up in the moment as you're playing. If you feel a strong rush of emotion, how can you stick with it without overpowering your ability to perform? How can you use it to communicate more effectively with the people you're trying to touch and move with the music?

In the Alexander Technique and other somatic disciplines like Feldenkrais, there is no judgment but only simple acknowledgement of your movement. You can inhibit the movement and change your habit with direction, but the reminder to be present is a valuable lesson that carries into any facet of life.

So, as I played with the bride's mother during the ceremony, I let myself feel and as I felt myself beginning to fight the emotion so that I could continue playing, I acknowledged my feelings and let myself stay present. It was wonderful and I'm happy I could give my music to my brother-in-law and his new wife.

Guest Post: Art in Life is Art

I love music for many reasons, and one of those reasons is the ability for it to inspire relationships.  Relationships among notes, among performers who may be strangers, and relationships among friends.  There are also relationships between the music and the performer.  By living your life, you provide a lens of interpretation that can have a dramatic effect on your music.

I want to talk about my awakening of this belief and how I've applied my life experiences to a specific piece of music.  And then I'll respond to one of Alexis' earlier postings on life experiences affecting performance. 

I need to take you to a spring day in Washington, where I was in a tiny room in an old building for a saxophone lesson.  I had practiced the Karg-Elert Caprice 'X. Cubana' and had just finished playing through the piece.

"Where's the passion?"  My professor, Bob Miller, looked at me with a discerning eye.  I asked,  "What are you talking about?  Do you want more vibrato?"  [Full-disclosure: I was a freshman at this time.]  My professor laughed, or maybe it was closer to a chuckle.  "When I'm playing passionate music, I think of my wife."

He begins to play the etude, but with a soul and feeling that doesn't sound as robotic and MIDI-fied as my rendition.   After a few lines of music, Bob turns to me.  "Playing music is like holding a pretty girl's hand."  And that's when it became one of those defining moments in my musical understanding.

See, in the especially troubling time of adjusting to college life, I hadn't thought about what I was trying to communicate through my music.  I was playing rote and inconsistent because my own thoughts were transitory.  Bob Miller had told me many times that music comes from your head, out of your horn, and back into your head.  It took me a few years to figure out what he was actually saying to me.

You see, I had not thought about art in the sense of a delivery system.  Music provides a tangible format to connect ideas through emotions and experiences we've had in our lives.  In effect, your life experience becomes the engine to the work's vessel.

And this whole concept of creating art as creating a vessel might visually resemble the circle of head-horn-head.  Within this vessel, you provide a means of emotional contextualization for the person experiencing this art.  So Bob wasn't necessarily talking about music ending up in the performer's head, but anyone who happens to be opening up themselves to hear the vessel in the sound is the end result of the circle.

Playing music like holding a pretty girl's hand means to have an intention to believe fully in the act that you're doing.  Our life experiences become powerful tools to invest belief in the music we create as well as the experiences we share with other people.  Sometimes that experience is shared with a particular pretty girl.

Whenever I play 'Cubana' these days, I think of my wonderful girlfriend and I on the streets of Barcelona and all of the smells.  Never before had I been to a country that smelled like Spain did; two parts perfume and flowers to one part food.  Images of the Placa d'Espanya and particularly the awesome Gaudi cathedral come into mind.  With a title like 'Cubana', I'm safe to assume that Karg-Elert wasn't thinking of Barcelona, but the association is so strong with me that it fills my mind whenever I play that piece.  For me, that experience becomes the piece whenever I hear it.

---

Now I'll respond to Alexis' post about enriching your art with your life.  Music takes many forms and shapes, and the uniqueness in which we express these forms is what makes our music making beautiful.  Beautiful in this case can mean haunting, exuberant, mystical, crushing, sublime, or any other adjective that could describe the mixture of emotions that we experience as humans.

It's the same concept that great novels employ: give enough detail to the reader to get a general sense contextualization, but leave the larger details up to the reader to fill in.  That ambiguity is powerful for making people connect and believe in the art.  But it starts with a seed based off an idea that the artist had in mind when creating.  As a performer, you're bound to the notes and inherent form of the piece, but you can provide the water that makes the seed of the music bloom to your idea of a plant.

This active enriching requires an awareness of your life and emotions.  The more you open your life to your contextualization of music, the more your music resonates with the experiences you want to share. You've taken the first step towards understanding.  Live your life and enjoy your music and both will be strengthened.

___________________________________________________________________________

Jeff Tecca is a saxophonist who studied at Pacific Lutheran University and received a Bachelors of Music in Composition in 2010.  He currently writes for chamber ensembles and K-12 wind bands.  Jeff also plays guitar and bass in his pop band, Paraloco.  He runs a blog about his music at bluecavalier.wordpress.com, his band's blog at paraloco.wordpress.com, and can be reached by email at jefftecca@gmail.com and on twitter at @jtecc.

Performing from the heart

I had a yard sale on Saturday morning. It gave me the opportunity to spend the entire morning outside and just think. I was grateful for the opportunity because I was able to ponder on this question:

How do we integrate all of the elements we practice and nurture in ourselves into a performance, which is simply a moment in time? 

I want to play freely. I want to have a conversation with my audience. I want to be authentic. But at times, some things holds me back. I feel that I'm not perceived as a "serious" player. I am attempting to build a career on my own terms, and not be accountable to anyone. I cannot control how others perceive my work or my status; however, that doesn't mean I let it get to me on a subconscious level.


These moments of self doubt are thankfully fleeting. For instance, if I was convinced that I had nothing worthwhile to say, this blog wouldn't be in existence. I don't let these moments consume me, but they are a reminder that I have to choose my working relationships carefully. Toxic relationships that are not grounded in honesty, but are instead built on greedy expectations of what the other person can do for them is a recipe that can create self doubt, aggravate symptoms of performance anxiety and make you feel that your work is less valuable.


We all have a need to have supportive relationships. A support network can help you reach your potential and increase your confidence in your abilities. Often times, a lot of the negativity we perceive seeds itself and grows in our own minds. We're less likely to talk about these very human moments with others. Negativity will usually dissipate when exposed to the light; however, when left to simmer unsaid and unexpressed, can be destructive. Supportive relationships can stop these vicious cycles in their tracks. Being able to talk about your self-doubt with those you trust can make it seem less scary, and leaves you better able to begin performing the way you want to.

Also, the more frequently you perform, the easier it will be to integrate all the best aspects of your playing into a cohesive and inclusive performance. Here are a few things that I like to do to ensure that I have the best chances of success when I go on stage:

1) Perform frequently, no matter how small the venue. Take charge of your own opportunities. The more frequently you arrange your own performances and tap into the type of audience you want to build, you'll begin to create a following. And who says a fan base isn't good for developing authenticity?

2) If it's new music you're learning, find smaller performance opportunities that don't have a lot of pressure associated with them. You learn the piece in a new way when you perform it than in the practice room. Familiarize yourself with how it feels to perform the piece and the music takes on new meaning which you'll be better able to communicate the day of the big performance.

3) Play for friends. Invite people over for wine and music. Let them play for you and vice versa. Informal musicales are a great way to spend time with people whose company you enjoy, and also allows you to experiment with your performances in a low pressure environment.

4) Taper your practice to no longer work on details, but to maintain a sense of the whole. See my previous post on practicing like you train.

5) Nurture yourself. Are there toxic influences in your life? Minimize their impact by distancing yourself from the source of the toxicity or eliminating them completely. This can be difficult, but having the supportive relationships in place that I mentioned earlier will help this process.

6) Live life. Don't spend endless hours in the practice room, but socialize with friends, read a book, go to a gallery opening. Do what you love to do. Life allows us to enrich our performances and our artistry. When we live life, we are preparing for performances.

Above all, keep in mind that performing is a moment in time. It could be your most fantastic moment, or it could be an off day when things don't go as planned. Diligence in preparation can help make it your moment, but be gentle to yourself. Prepare confidently and don't compare yourself to others. Part of the joy in performing is what you make it to be. There's only one you in the world, and share that uniqueness with the audience.

Prepare, nurture, integrate, perform. All of these things happen from the heart if we allow it.

Looking inward to capture the joy in music making

The labyrinth at Ghost Ranch, a place for quiet reflection

I have taken up a meditation practice, and I had a delicious experience today. I use the quiet time as a chance to draw inward and be with God. If there's a particular thing that I'm struggling with such as anxiety, I'll form an intention to reflect on as I sit quietly. Just like my Super Efficient Practice Hour, this 20 minutes I devote to solitude leaves me better able to handle the day.

Most of my intentions lately have focused on qualities I feel are lacking when I react to my current situation with fear, anxiety and worry. I have a choice about how to deal with the stress, and I have chosen to deal with it as positively as possible. In my very human moments when I succumb to the negative emotions, I return to how I felt during my meditation and I begin breathing more deeply and the negativity releases its grip on me.

My intention today was "presence." The current situation is teaching my husband and me how to live in the moment. I know that I can only do one thing at a time. Instead of becoming overwhelmed with my endless to do list, I would rather stay focused on the present and give myself manageable tasks that feel like progress is being made.

As I sat, I suddenly realized that this was my time and I should relish it. This realization washed over me and drew me deeper into myself in a way I hadn't experienced before. I don't think I've ever thought about the time I've taken for myself in quite that way. I became involved in the present - I wasn't just trying to be present.

When practicing becomes a chore, we can return to a place and motivate ourselves by giving ourselves a gift of time. That gift allows us to not only refine and improve our technical skill on the instrument, but it makes us better people. The more present we are in our performance, the greater our awareness and it enhances our joy. We enter into a real time conversation with the audience that can't exist if we're worrying about what we just played or the difficult part ahead. This is the essence of inclusive awareness.

I'm starting to realize that this difficult situation I'm in has helped me appreciate this time as an opportunity to begin injecting more humanity into my music. I subscribe to Astrid Baumgardner's newsletter, and she included a fantastic article about ways to manage challenges in her April issue. As I searched for an old email this morning in my inbox, the newsletter appeared in my search results. It was perfectly timed. If you're dealing with a difficult time, personally or professionally, I encourage you to read it and use the action steps to make a plan. Her action steps encourage presence by focusing on the immediate, which helps you to clearly articulate the next step.

The lesson here is no matter external circumstances, free the music within by drawing inward and finding the joy that exists in each moment of your life. What's your story?

Enriching your artistry through life experience

Image by Dan Brady

In May, I wrote several blog posts that included my Manifesto, and several more articles about income streams and making your own way as a musician. One idea I wanted to write about never quite made it to the table, so here I am writing about it now. Life experience. I touched briefly on this in this week's earlier post, which got me thinking about it a little more.

When I describe my situation to others, it's humbling to see the scores of others in the position that my husband and I are in. The economy has brought change to lots of people. Some of the change has been positive and at other times negative. My own work has been shaped by a desire to become portable in order to weather the changes that life has brought me at pretty regular intervals of every 2-3 years.

I firmly believe in the new economy, and I believe in the power of individuals to make their own way. With that said, life experience can be a boon to artistic development. If our lives were simple, what depth would our lives have? What depth would our music have? On one hand, I crave simplicity but I know that the painful and uncomfortable times will lead to a greater discovery of who I am and what I'm capable of handling. One could say that I'm in the worst position I've ever been in; however, I also trust that God will never give me more than I can handle.

I'm accepting these changes in the hope that my life will help me develop a deeper appreciation for the music that I'm so passionate about. I am full of gratitude for the music I am able to share with others, gratitude for those who support me and gratitude for even these uncomfortable changes I'm faced with right now. I'm realizing that accepting the painful times enhances artistry in a way that enables the musician to explore the full range of emotions in the music they perform. Love, pain, loss, joy and sorrow. In fact, I have the opportunity to study the human condition from a first hand position.

As I accept my momentary "uncomfortableness," I'm noticing these emotions and what they do. Not only am I opening myself up to possibility, but I am letting my life guide me in my artistic endeavors. Just like the discoveries one makes when studying Body Mapping and realizing that all your "problems" are connected, my life is connected to music. Art is absolutely connected to our lives.

When you enrich your artistry through life experience, you are allowing that experience to connect you personally to your performance. That is one more layer of awareness through which to communicate exactly what you want to your audience. There is music inside every one of us. Allow your life to help transmit it to the world.

Summerflute, Part Four and Reflections

So far, I've written about how each of my Summerflute experiences opened my eyes to something new. In this final post to wrap up the series, I had two more private lessons and a performance to finish the week.

Performing in a trio with Melanie Sever (C) and Kristin Hayes (R)

On Wednesday night, I had a private lesson with my twitter friend and colleague Meerenai Shim. As a trainee, I'm interested in taking lessons with licensed Andover Educators when the opportunity presents itself in order to see how each AE teaches. Meerenai approaches this work differently than I do, and it was great to work from a new perspective in our lesson. While I like to study and retain detailed information to get a better grasp of my body map, Meerenai uses and teaches the information in a very practical way for musical results.

I used the Allemande from the Bach Partita in the lesson, and we explored breathing and the space in the nasal cavities, which married well with Liisa's suggestions for me to resonate with my whole head including the mouth, back of skull and nasal cavities. At this point in time, I haven't really explored nose breathing a lot so Meerenai provided helpful suggestions on how to breathe in through the mouth and nose at the same time. Getting used to this type of breathing is going to be a process, but I have useful information to work with now which has the potential to make helpful and beneficial changes to my breathing habits.

On Thursday afternoon, I had my second private lesson with Amy Likar. I used the Reinecke in this lesson and Amy helped clarify any translation issues I may have had the day before in my performance for Liisa. At this point of the week, I had reached my saturation point for new information so this lesson contained less Body Mapping information and more integration with the information we had already talked about through the week.

Body Mapping wise, I am bringing into my awareness my tendency to thrust my hips and pelvis forward when I bring my flute up to play. This "hip magnet" action can be connected to a narrowing across my chest and shoulders as I play. Knowing that these movement patterns are connected is incredibly helpful when remapping these parts of my body in relation to my flute. It takes away the temptation to scan or focus on only one part of the body while trying to play, too. While being aware of these elements, Amy had me explore the opening phrase of the Reinecke using harmonic tones while noticing what was happening physically. Every time I played the phrase as written, I felt a more whole body-whole instrument integration.

Finally, Amy had me drape over a physio ball for a minute to think about the work I had just done. When I got up to play, it was AMAZING. The music poured out of me and the sound was unbelievably powerful and organized around my movement. It was a great lesson to help cement the trust and translation lessons from the previous day.

Friday was the last day of Summerflute. We wrapped up the morning with our final Feldenkrais ATM session (with a pelvic clock lesson, yay!) and the last hour of What Every Musician Needs to Know about the Body. The final event of the class was a student recital. I had opted to perform the first movement of Peter Amsel's Museum Triptych, the piece I premiered earlier this year.

My warm up for the performance was short and sweet. I played through a trio that I was also performing with two other students, and I then opted to warm up a little bit more and get some constructive rest in.

The performance was my best of the week. I felt more integrated, more aware, more comfortable. I felt more like myself, which was a positive note to end the week on. I had moments where I lost myself, but I did notice that as I felt myself gripping to control and return to my "normal" self, I could unlock my knees and the performance improved. This was a performance that I felt happy with, and I felt that it showcased my best work of the week.

I was meant to be at Summerflute this year. Not only did it reinforce that I'm on the right track with my Andover Educator training, but it helped pave the way for the next level. In the two weeks since, my head has cleared and I'm making some great improvements in my playing.

I came home with new strategies in my toolbox, and my teaching has benefited significantly. If you ever have the opportunity to attend one of these classes, I highly recommend it. It has the potential to change your life! Check out Summerflute's website and bookmark it for updates on the next class!

Summerflute Thoughts, Part Two

Liisa Ruoho and Me

I arrived at Summerflute on Monday and jumped right in. I had a private Body Mapping lesson with Amy Likar, who is my sponsoring teacher as I undertake the Andover Educator training. Since she is also a certified Alexander Technique teacher, we did some table work. This put me on the path for greater learning for several reasons.

After having only gotten around 3 hours of sleep the night before and since I had just spent the morning travelling to Georgia from Pennsylvania, my playing was quite disembodied which didn't surprise me at all. I was still carrying an incredible amount of tension in my neck from carrying both laptop and duffel bags. I also had an enormous amount of personal stress to contend with as well, which happened to come spilling out during the lesson. This clearing helped me feel less like 2 persons, and more like myself and ready for the week ahead.

The lesson centered around basic Alexander principles with Amy encouraging my tactile awareness as I laid on the table. She encouraged me to accept what I was feeling and thinking, while tying it to my freedom of choice (inhibition). At the end of the lesson, I played the portion of the Allemande of the Bach Partita again and this time, it felt freer and more like myself.

I feel it's worth mentioning here that since seriously undertaking this work in the past year, I have gone through transition periods where I lose my sound and lose how it feels to play. It's an odd (and sometimes tear inducing) feeling that I have to patiently work through. I was very hopeful that the week would help me return to a new and better place.

Later in the evening, I got my first opportunity to perform in the first masterclass with Liisa Ruoho. I eagerly volunteered to play first since I had gotten such little sleep. I played all of the Allemande for her, and what I noticed most was how small I felt in relation to the hall. The Schwob School of Music at Columbus State University has beautiful performance spaces. Legacy Hall was no exception.

In addition to feeling small, I also felt disconnected from those sitting in the hall. Because I have never performed the Bach and I'm still figuring out what I want to do with it musically, my inclusive awareness was narrowed. I missed several notes because each time I wanted to connect with the audience through visual contact, I would lose my place in the music.

Liisa offered suggestions that provided immediate results. She first had me play the first note of the movement, which is an E2 asking me to play in the space around myself with more space in the mouth and thinking of the space in my nasal cavities to increase resonance with less effort. Listening behind me also helped open up my sound, and I produced a more musical and resonant sound that filled the hall.

From here, she asked me to play leaning against the piano as if I were having a beer and talking with a friend. This time, I really played the Bach like I wanted and was quite surprised. Shifting away from "good flute player" stance and into a relaxed position helped me access the music much easier. Since then, I've returned to this position in practice and while I always return to my regular position, I find that it's easier to access what I want. I like to think of it as a modified monkey (please comment if you don't know what monkey is and would like additional explanation).

Liisa encouraged several of us performers through the week to play with the composer as a partner. This mindset makes something as intimidating as the Bach Partita much more enjoyable to play. Although I wasn't looking forward to playing on the first day knowing how tired I would be, the lesson with Amy and performance for Liisa went hand in hand.


No matter what we're dealing with in our lives, professionally or personally, accepting ourselves and the baggage we carry is essential to performing with freedom and joy. At this point, I'm happily and slowly making my way and I'm happy for the downtime I have as I figure the next level out for myself. While performing is incredibly important to me, I feel that I have nothing to prove to anyone. Was the Monday night performance my best ever? Not in any way, but that was the best I could offer at that moment in time and I accept that.


Even though I didn't feel secure in my initial performance of the Bach, Liisa's teaching instantly inspired and motivated me to jump into the practice room to figure out a solution. My mood lifted as my motivation returned and even though I didn't have much time to practice during the week, I was able to explore enough on my own to keep making discoveries through the week.

In my next post, I'll talk about my second masterclass performance and what the fourth movement of the Reinecke Sonata brought to the surface.

Get your copy of The Musician's Personality here!

Extra, extra! Read all about it!

You can get your copy of The Musician's Personality: How Intention and Free Thinking can shape Artistic Freedom here! 

For a sneak peak, here's the book's preface:

From the beginning, The Sensible Flutist has been about my personal journey. When I began the blog in 2010, I was asking a lot of questions and while I thought I had definitive answers, my perspective has evolved as I’ve sought to find my unique voice and path. My ability to flesh out my thoughts on the blog led to the development of a network of likeminded colleagues on Twitter. Two years later, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting several of these influential people who want to make the world a little bit better by breaking down the barriers present in our art.

The basis of this E-book spans a series of posts I wrote for The Sensible Flutist between June 2010 and August 2011. This book seeks to connect the pieces of my progression. It presents these posts as an expanded guide for you, the reader. For the sake of space, I am not republishing these posts verbatim but I am expanding the ideas as a call to action for my readers. These posts relate as much to my own evolution as a musician as they do to encourage those who may find themselves asking the same questions. If you are struggling to find your individual voice, read on to find out how to balance your education with your free-thinking creative self, the musician’s personality.

If you download the book, please let me know what you think and please spread the word!

Many thanks,

The Sensible Flutist

Engaging the right brain in the practice room

I've been reading and researching this week to begin preparing for my presentation later this year at the National Flute Association's annual convention in Las Vegas. I've started the fleshing out process by reading My Stroke of Insight by Dr. Jill Taylor. This has been a fascinating glimpse inside the mind of a stroke victim. I'm grateful that she made a complete recovery and was able to gift the world with this book.

Prior to reading the book, I haven't really put too much thought into the differences of the left and right hemispheres of the brain. I'm a thinker. I carefully reason, plan and analyze everything I do. Doing something like playing my flute forces me out of my left brain analytical thinking and shifts me into an artistic mode which is right brain driven. But I want to be able to explain what I do so that I can return to that place consistently. That's why I have this blog. I record my experiences which allows me to keep reflecting and thinking.

Perhaps my dominant analytical self is why I suffer from performance anxiety. Reading Taylor's book has made me realize that somatic disciplines like Alexander Technique, Feldenkrais and Body Mapping all help us just be without excess effort. These disciplines help us "step to the right" as Dr. Taylor says and lets our bodies work with our minds in efficient, effective and natural ways.

In my daily practice (or exploration as I've been thinking of it recently), I have been using techniques such as inclusive awareness and constructive rest to keep awareness of my body as I play my instrument. I've also been following guitarist and AT student Patrick Smith's blog as he recounts his experiences in the practice room. It's helpful to see how someone else explores the music and the body in their practice.

Dr. Taylor says to step right away from the mental chatter and away from your ego center in order to be mindful and present. When we're in the practice room, we have to balance our practicing with compassion and non-judgment. We are there to explore and produce a better artistic product than we were could the day before.

When I approach the practice session as a process and not because I have a deadline, I'm happier and more fulfilled with my daily exploration. When the left brain is chattering all sorts of judgmental things at me, I can simply "step to the right" and engage in the music and let it flow through me.

The biggest lesson in all this research so far is the reminder that we have the power to choose at any moment what to do, but more on that later. Happy exploring.

Practice with your head, perform from your heart

While I’m trying to separate from my ego (read my previous post here), I’m beginning to answer some of my own questions about how to practice for performance and artistic success.

There’s lot of great resources about practicing, but you are ultimately responsible for integrating what works for you into your performance.

A simple reminder to ourselves should be, “Practice with your head, perform from your heart.”

When I begin feeling like I’m too much in my head during my practice sessions, I tune in to my heart. This is one of the reasons why I have to practice in a room with a view. It helps me stay connected to the outside world plus the natural beauty keeps me refreshed. There’s nothing like nature to get you out of your head and encourage gratitude for the gift you have to share.

We must practice fine, technical details to access a higher artistic level; however, we must also practice finding our heart if we are to play on stage the way we really want to and as well as we know we can. Because practicing is such a solitary activity, we tend to constantly instruct ourselves rather than staying inclusively aware of the music and the body. Humans are not designed to be solitary creatures. Music is one way of staying connected and our practicing should nurture that.

As you practice today, try tuning in to a deeper source beyond your brain’s mental chatter. Whether you go to a spiritual place or visualize an image that you can use to diminish the chatter, use it often. You’ll find that this type of practicing will connect you more with your audience while performing as well as make practicing itself more enjoyable.

Ghost Ranch

I spent a week in August on Ghost Ranch in Abiquiu, NM. Aside from where I grew up in Southwest Virginia, it felt like the most secluded place I had ventured.

It was amazing.

Enveloped in nature and music, I performed for Keith Underwood, had amazing conversations with like minded people (now friends), hiked and ran and ate some great food. The week began with culture shock (4 years stuck on the east coast will do that to you) and by the end of the week, I felt at home and energized.

I had kept hearing about the effects of Ghost Ranch on its visitors, but it sounded a little mumbo jumbo to be honest. I'm a transcendant type but those experiences still sounded too spiritual.

But I understand now. I'm on the path to making some great changes in my playing because of Keith and spending a week mostly disconnected from the daily grind and technology helped release some emotional blocks. My week at Ghost Ranch combined everything I value - music, fitness, transcendence. Instead of having to fight to balance those values as I do in my daily life, they all combined effortlessly there.

On my way back to Albuquerque to fly home, my friend Allie and I stopped in Santa Fe. I was in search of turquoise, but instead I found a great bracelet. The artist who made it said the bird symbolizes independence and free spirit. I wear it as a reminder of my independence as a person and the type of free spirit I want to cultivate in my performances as a musician and artist.



It also serves as a reminder of that week. It was such a transforming experience that I have plans to go back next year if my schedule allows.

Peeling back the Layers

Since I began seriously playing again, I have struggled with performance anxiety in ways that I don't recall ever experiencing. I have read books, talked to my teachers, and sought multiple performance opportunities in order to practice the skill of performing.

But I still feel like I fail. Why?

Interestingly enough, I had an epiphany sitting in my car listening to the radio. P!nk's song, "F'in Perfect," was on and I really started listening to the lyrics. All of a sudden, I realized that the negative performance experiences I had as a child are still affecting me emotionally and psychologically.

On a personal level, you can hide behind a shell of yourself. As a musician and an artist, you must lose that shell. Losing it can induce anxiety and self-doubt. There are different types of performance anxiety as listed in my colleague Marion Harrington's article; however, when I read these, I found that I couldn't exactly define how I suffer.

I began my musical journey as a singer. As a kid, I sang all the time. I would sneak into my brother's room, play a record, and sing along. If I didn't know the words, I made them up (I especially remember "La Bamba").

As I got older, I began singing in public. I could easily get up and sing in front of a church full of people. I was singing because I loved it, and I didn't have any preconceived notions about what I was supposed to do. I didn't start developing preconceived notions until I began entering talent shows at school.

I grew up in rural Southwest Virginia which is very religious. I sang anything my mom could find a taped accompaniment for, which was usually gospel or Christian contemporary music. And that's what I sang for my talent shows. The rejection that I remember most is a school assembly that I sang for. I don't remember the song, but I do remember looking up into the bleachers and seeing a boy mocking me.

I never tied this experience to my flute playing, but I think that it is a factor in how I deal with my anxiety. As I got older, I began burying more of my true self in order to fit in as most of us do. I have an "old soul," and I had only a few close friends. Because I find myself caught in the middle between those my own age and those older than me who I'm closer to in maturity, I have built layers of walls to protect myself from getting hurt in relationships with others.

We all build walls. Breaking them down in order to perform without fear is perhaps the most difficult part of our job.

Ultimately, this realization peeled back one more layer of my psyche to figure out exactly why I get anxious when I perform. My ease as a singer and a natural performer has evolved into a nervous adrenaline rush that affects my entire performance. It has struck at the beginning, in the middle, and sporadically.

How do I start to let go and enjoy the music?

My most recent post (Opening the Heartspace) is a step in the right direction. I actually started writing this post several months ago, but I've been letting it simmer. There was something there that although realizing that my childhood fears have followed me into adulthood, it doesn't explain everything.

There's something more. Perfectionism.

When we're children, we don't try to be perfect. We are able to perform without expectations or pressure. We sing/play/dance simply because we love to do it. Somewhere along the way, we learn that this isn't good enough. We must be perfect. We must please others. And when someone laughs at or mocks you, then you begin avoiding that which used to give you so much joy.

My experiences make me who I am today and I know who I am as a person, but the more I can break down the walls that I have built around myself to protect myself, the more true artistry will emerge in my teaching and on stage.

Here are some resources to help you overcome the "lizard brain" (as Seth Godin puts it):

Elizabeth Gilbert on nurturing creativity


Seth Godin's Linchpin

Opening the Heartspace

The phrase "opening the heartspace" is one I was first exposed to when I started taking yoga classes over two years ago. At first, I thought it simply meant opening and stretching across the chest; however, this phrase has become more significant to me of late.

This summer, I've been reading The Art of Practicing by Madeline Bruser. A piano teacher and authorized meditation instructor, Bruser explores musical, meditative, and psychological aspects in this book. The ideas of staying inquisitive and opening yourself to what can happen in a practice session are firmly grounded in a pedagogical foundation that allows your mind to connect with your body in a healthy, productive manner.

Shortly after beginning to read this book, I attended the Andover Educators' Biennial Conference and was immersed in five intense days of body mapping. As cliche as it may sound, this conference was a life changing experience. I opted to play in one of the supervised teaching sessions, where I worked with a recently certified educator. The concept of "inclusive awareness" is one that I didn't quite connect with, and it showed in my performance. I was glued to the stand, unaware of anything else around me.

And here we are at the heart (no pun intended) of this post: while opening the heartspace is about sharing love and compassion, opening the heartspace in our music making makes us vulnerable and a more likely vessel for the music to flow through, allowing us to connect with our audience and share in the same experience.

Bruser's book has a anecdote where she had someone outstretch their arms. Their response was fear because they no longer felt safe. Through the study of body mapping and tapping into all my senses to maintain awareness of not only the music but myself, along with reading this book, I feel myself connecting more to my audiences and to my music. This is happening because I'm looking at my audience, I'm connecting my movement to the music, and I'm staying open to the experience, not battling it.

Staying open, staying receptive. There are numerous benefits to remaining inclusively aware, and keeping your heart open. Performance anxiety can be minimized, you can enjoy more of your performance, and you are connected on a more human level to your audience. I read somewhere that if you're only performing to please the heckler in the audience, then you're losing a critical component of yourself...YOU! 99 percent of your audience is there to see you succeed.

How do we stay open? I change my body language. If I'm in the practice room, I outstretch my arms as I were giving the room a big hug. If I'm in public, I mentally picture this action. My arms are suspended over my rib structure, my chest opens, and I feel more comfortable and confident.

Please comment if you have any questions. The more I tune into my body, the more musical answers it has given me. This is the gift that all of us should have.

A Flutist's Self-Worth

A thread on the FLUTE list popped up that saddened me. The question of the distinction between amateur and professional players came up, and I read the thread with dismay. The original poster's intent was to ask the valid question why we flutists don't support each other more, but the resulting discussion didn't answer this question.

A certain flutist wrote who said that she is a "nobody in the flute world" because even though she leads a fulfilling musical life, the fact that no one knows her outside her own circle and she doesn't hold an orchestra or teaching position doesn't hold value in her eyes.

An unfortunate stereotype of flutists is that we're all catty, uber competitive, and self-centered. When I meet a new flutist, I always gauge the person to figure out their attitude. By the end of my time with them, I know whether they share the same philosophy of music making I do (if you've read the rest of my blog, you know how I feel about music) or whether they are purely career focused (i.e. constantly focusing on the orchestra audition circuit or teaching positions). When I pick up on the latter attitude, I usually come away a little deflated and questioning my own worth.

Seeking approval from others is a struggle for me. When I was in college, I constantly wanted the approval of my flute teacher. She was hard on me, and it took me years to realize that it was because she wanted the BEST for me. I wasn't in her studio to be told how good I was. I was in her studio to progress and become a better flutist...to better my chances of becoming a successful musician.

So what does "successful" mean? For a lot of flutists, this only means winning an orchestra or teaching job at a major school. Orchestra jobs are diminishing. The Philly Orchestra has declared bankruptcy, the Louisville Orchestra is no longer employing their musicians. Now, more than ever, flutists (and musicians everywhere) must be flexible and open to creating their own opportunities.

Your self-worth as a musician and as an individual should not be tied to what others are doing. We are musicians, with creative impulses and the ability to create opportunities for ourselves. This is what creative entrepreneurship is about. It's about taking control of your life and your destiny. It's about creating opportunities for yourself where none seemingly exist.

Do I struggle with self-doubt? Yes. But I struggle more with self-doubt when I find myself worrying about what others think especially those who have won those types of jobs we dream about in music school. My self-doubt dissipates when I stop worrying, and I start focusing on my own goals again.

If you have an idea for something great, pursue it. Don't let entrenched attitudes stop you. Winning orchestra and teaching jobs is the old way of thinking. Now, more than ever before is the time to seize on opportunities. The power of the internet and social media can take you from obscurity into something more.

Unfortunately, a lot of musicians don't know how to seize on these new opportunities. Instead, I meet a lot of flutists who had big dreams shattered by the harsh reality of the real world. Life often gets in the way of what we would like to have, but it doesn't mean that we should give up just because we can't win an orchestra audition or a teaching job.

Be flexible, adaptable, and true to yourself. Your musical career might take a path you didn't expect, but the path least travelled leads to the most fulfilling work.

Go out and create! Here are a few resources to help you get past self-doubt and start or rejuvenate your career:

Jade Simmons' Emerge Already! Blog

Beyond Talent by Angela Myles Beeching

The Savvy Musician by David Cutler

Shifting the Focus back to Expression and Creativity

I've been having a conversation on Twitter with @MazzaClarinet otherwise known as Marion Harrington, a professional clarinetist and motivational author (http://marionharringtonclarinet.com/). The conversation began as a discussion of the importance of academia on musical interpretation and the positive or negative impact it has on one's natural inclinations and this discussion has transformed into one about the sacrificing of musical expression for technical perfection.

Students that enter college to study music must take an assortment of theory and history lessons in order to develop a framework for them to become better musicians. It's critical to a student's development to have this academic education in order to return to music with a enlightened view of its structure and historical context; however, viewing music in strictly academic terms will render the music void of any expression whatsoever. I discussed this point in an earlier post (http://sensibleflutist.blogspot.com/2010/06/personality-of-musician-deeper-look.html). I would go further than I did in my previous article, and state that having a certain amount of talent paired with a solid musical education will produce a musician with a heightened sensitivity to the music.

From this, the conversation took a turn towards the question of creativity and how so many performances nowadays are technically accurate or "note perfect" but lacking in musical expression. For flutists, the current focus leans toward technical superiority and perfection. My guess is that this focus extends through all woodwinds because of the physically emcompassing requirements of playing a wind instrument. We get so wrapped up in the physical and technical side of playing the instrument that we forget why we committed ourselves to music in the first place. I certainly didn't start playing the flute because I wanted to learn to control my breathing or have fast fingers. I began playing the flute for the expressive powers and potential it holds.

I attended several masterclasses over the summer, and most of the focus was on technical aspects of flute playing. This approach is ingrained in me so much that I find it incredibly difficult to listen to beautiful flute playing without scrutinzing every detail rather than appreciating the beauty; however, by the same token, it's difficult to find recordings that give you a glimpse into the whole package. Encouraging young musicians to attend live performances is one of the most important steps we can take to shift the focus from technical playing to free and creative.

So what other ways can we start changing this focus? We're musicians with a creative urge to find solutions. We are always looking for solutions to improve and do things better. I think that flutists (and any other instrument that falls into this perfection obsessed category) should take the opportunity to listen to vocalists, pianists, and stringed instruments. Attend masterclasses for other instruments than your own - it's eye opening to see how they approach their music. Take the universal musical ideas you learn from them, and apply it within your own playing. Go to solo recitals of other instruments.

Improvisatory exercises are extremely useful when exploring the bounds of your own creative musical expression. When you take away the visual, your heighten your other senses and the music begins to become a natural, non-thinking extension of who you are. I really enjoy attending jazz concerts to see and hear the freedom of these musicians. I strive for the same freedom in my playing. As David Thomas (@DTClarinet) stated on Twitter, playing a piece of music is a "recreative" process, but also takes imagination. I think that pairing the improvisatory freedom of non-thinking with real imagination will increase your control over a piece of music and bring out expressive qualities in your playing that will engage your audience in a real-time narrative.

The beauty of music lies in its ability to engage the entire realm of human emotion, and express happiness, sorrow, anger, tell a narrative or paint a picture. By engaging the self through creative and imaginative self-exploration, we break the mold and become free-thinking, musical individuals.

Intention and Emotional Inhibitions that affect it

So sorry for the 2 week gap in blogging, but my lone computer began acting up and I was blessed to get another one so soon. So now I have a new computer that I can dedicate exclusively to my online musical activities.


I stirred up an interesting debate among several flutists on Twitter the other morning when I tweeted about a statement I'd heard the night before. I jam with a group of amateur musicians that just love music and come together to improv and play a variety of folk tunes. I enjoy it because it's such a different environment from a professional aspect, which I find refreshing. In a former life, I would have refused to join these people but I now see it as a unique opportunity to play just to have fun with no pressure.


This violinist, who is a music major at a university out west was discussing why she must practice to the group and stated that as you get closer to the "ideal," you're able to play with more freedom. I agree with this statement in the sense that if you obtain a technical mastery over the instrument, you have a greater awareness of what the instrument can do for maximum expressiveness. I disagree with the statement in that there is no one "ideal." We are constantly shaping ourselves as musicians and our musical identity is always a work in progress. In this mixed group of amateurs, the reaction was one of, "Well, what's the ideal?" Even without a strong music background, they already sensed that there is no true ideal.


While jamming that night, I was tired and didn't feel emotionally involved. I still got something out of going; however, I noted the heightened emotional state of the others there. I am a very private person that has a hard time showing emotion to anyone other than my husband. There are certain tunes, especially some Appalachian folk tunes (from my SW Virginia upbringing), that can bring me to tears. Patriotic outpourings of support for members of the military of any type make me cry. But why is it that I have such a hard time expressing myself, whether it be on a personal level or a musical one? Why do I sometimes feel disconnected from the music even though I, as a classically trained flutist, can interpret the music and present it in a neat package?


Because of this observation from the night before, I continued to tweet, "I'm jealous of amateurs that love music so much, they can play with no cares." Yes, they may be blissfully ignorant, but they love it and that's what I strive to preserve in my own music making. I think it's hard as a professional musician to maintain that element. It could be why even though I'm classically trained, I am very interested in branching other to other genres of music such as folk music that I can connect with on a deeper emotional level. Branching into other genres means interacting with musicians that may not have the same background or education that I do, but they do it for the love of it and invest a lot of themselves into their art. Their varied experiences can help me along my musical metamorphosis.


The debate then took this turn towards the question of professional versus amateur, and what we as professionals know versus the ignorance of amateurs. I am a very open minded person when it comes to hearing new ideas. I think that a young, budding professional can watch an amateur and examine why they do what they do and perhaps draw from that. How amateurs connect with music on a purely emotional level is a lesson to be learned for those of us that once felt that same way, and have lost a connection with the music.


As far as this "ideal" this young violinist referred to, what is it? I think as musicians and artists, we should be constantly exploring new ideas in our playing and never stop learning. I believe that our musical lives are cyclical, and that is the one thing I love most about music. With the number of fantastic flutists in the world today, we have a huge abundance of ideas that can keep things fresh for us.


With all these new ideas, we must have a strong sense of who we are musically with mastery of our instruments in order to keep those new ideas from throwing us into confusion. I discussed this in an earlier blog post (http://sensibleflutist.blogspot.com/2010/06/personality-of-musician-deeper-look.html). Open mindedness will keep you from boxing yourself in. Don't be afraid to explore new ideas, and see where they lead you. New ideas will only propel you further in your musical journey, and encourage freedom.

Should we incorporate everything we discover? No. Young students should be given a strong foundational musical education so that they are able to make decisions for themselves as they advance in their studies. These young musicians already love music. They wouldn't be devoting themselves to learning an instrument if that wasn't the case. Hopefully, they have teachers that allow them to creatively explore the limits of their instruments and lead them to perform with freedom and expressiveness.

On a professional level, we shouldn't box ourselves in but allow ourselves freedom. I contribute my own struggles with the difficulty I have displaying my emotions for the world to see. That's an issue in my own performances that I am working through, and which is why a lot of my focus is on this topic at the moment. Allow your students freedom and creativity within an intelligent framework to preserve intention. We flute players must allow musicality and freedom to shape us who we are as musicians, and not who can play the fastest.

The Personality of a Musician - A Deeper Look

“Being academically and musically correct, yet having a distinct personality is the goal. Difficult, but possible. Too many lose the personality.”

The other day, one of my former teachers Patricia George with whom I studied with in the summer of 2002 at the Sewanee Summer Music Festival and again in 2003 at a masterclass, posted on Facebook the very succinct and accurate statement above. The general consensus from the responses to this statement was one of teaching students to think for themselves, to make their own choices before letting another’s influence them. I interpreted this more deeply: you cannot strike your own way as a musician unless you have personality. You have to have the confidence and courage to make your own way.

Without education, there is no chance of success as a classical musician. There is continuous discussion on whether one has “it” and whether that increases their chances for success. As someone who has worked really hard to become a flute player and a musician, I don’t think I have “it” but those of us less fortunate but still have talent can still find our personality and make smart choices in the music we share.

Personality will make you stand out from the crowd. There are SO many flute players in today’s world with the same dreams that finding a niche is essential. For some, it seems to happen overnight and for others, it takes years. To make that niche-finding process easier, not worrying about what others think and owning the music will help get you there faster.

One of the thoughts I’ve had about regarding my own playing is how I tend to lose myself when attempting to perform under the auspices of a teacher’s interpretation. I’ve studied with wonderful teachers, and their playing inspires me; however, I have to be confident of my abilities in the here and now to play with those influences while adding my own flair. How liberating would the experience be if you injected your own personality into the music and play freely? This is the exact reason we all go to college as music majors. Knowledge is power, and that knowledge frees us to play musically. Musical playing is not often heard among us flute players, and that philosophical point is a topic for another day.

Great teachers prepare their students to find and develop their own personality that will lead to future success. Approach the flute with a good, mindful work ethic and musicality will fall into place. I think Mrs. George’s statement falls into the realm of social commentary. Within the public schools, so much emphasis is placed on standardized testing that today’s young students are not able to think for themselves and explore what interests them in the name of bureaucratic “standards.” Developing a musical personality draws upon what you know and have experienced. Take chances and if you turn out to be wrong, accept your mistake and move on. We are human, we make mistakes, but the successful musician will learn from those mistakes and become successful.

While I’m taking my break between degrees, I’m learning things in my own research and exploration that I wouldn’t have grasped if I had immediately entered grad school. My intent during my undergraduate years was to learn, to become better, and to utilize my knowledge and experience as a budding professional musician. Musicians are a highly educated group of people, but how many have personality? To be musical, you must be personally committed and totally convinced of your skills. Forget the technical aspects, just play and let your personality shine through.