Become more present by acknowledging the uncomfortable

Avoiding pain, embarrassment, humiliation. We all do our best to avoid uncomfortable emotions. When we're angry or hurt, we try really hard to get back to a more peaceful state. What would happen if we chose to remain with the painful feelings and acknowledge their presence? What would happen if we realized that we have a say in the matter and that we have an array of possibilities to choose from, rather than the ones that emotion may dictate for us?

Life, with all its twists and turns, can not stay in homeostasis like our biological systems. Life instead seems to have more bad moments than good. Personally, 2012 wasn't a particularly good year but I learned a lot of lessons that I will strive not to forget when the times are good.

What does this have to do with music? The image of the suffering and starving artist is a widespread one in our western culture. We become artists not to make money but to create and move people towards change. Some of the most powerful music has been born from misery.

If you would like to become more present or mindful, accepting rather than fighting what is happening at any given time is a critical skill to develop. The hardest lesson for me in all this has been accepting that while my emotions are real, they do not define me. You can accept difficult situations for what they are, but you can simply notice the emotions they produce. They do not have to control you. Biologically, we feel emotions but research tells us that they take about 90 seconds to pass through the body (if we choose to let them go).

Acknowledge and accept. There are so many ways we can apply this to practice and performance of music.

Here's a way to start in the practice room: when you're having a bad day, it's incredibly difficult to not judge yourself. Any element that isn't going well becomes the focal point of your attention and you gradually pull yourself more and more away from the music itself.

When you notice frustration creeping in, stop and take a moment to notice that frustration and accept it. This doesn't mean that you have to stay with the frustration but instead, you can make a choice about what it is you want to do next. If you choose to stay frustrated, you will choose to remain focused on the element that isn't flowing (such as your tone). Another choice you can make is to step away from the instrument and go do something else for a little while.

Finally, a third choice could be to focus on the wider picture and find something positive in your playing. I can guarantee that you're not going to feel comfortable or even happy about having to play in a frustrated state, but if you choose to not let the frustration control your choices, the negative judgmental voices will dissipate. You may even be able to end the practice session in a productive groove.

Life is all about how we choose to respond to curveballs. Practicing is all about how we choose to respond to our expectations. If we let our emotions control us, choices get made for us. Conscious, mindful decision making can keep us in the game.

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.

Practice Essentials: Easing in after a break

I think the biggest question we all have when returning to the flute after a hiatus is, "What do I do to get started again?" For some, the fact that they aren't able to resume at their previous level is frustrating and overwhelming. Since this was something I had to do a few years ago, I know that there's plenty of good advice out there; however, I've noticed that very few encourage slowly building up the amount of time you practice.

If you are able to maintain a consistent practice routine, keep doing what you're doing! If life gets thrown at you more than you care to admit, then keep reading.

Even a temporary break of a week or two means you need to take it slow getting back into your regular routine. Here are a few of my tried and true tips to get back to practicing:

1) Be gentle. Don't pass judgment as you begin playing your first notes. Simply notice your physical state, your emotions and notice how you sound. Take lots of mini breaks with stretching. Every time you come back to your flute after a break, notice the same things again and if things seem to be flowing more easily. If not, continue this sequence until you find a place that you're happy. 

Being gentle with yourself and reserving your criticism for later will prevent excess tension from creeping in, and you'll be able to find the freedom in your playing that may be missing after a hiatus.

2) Set a time limit on how much you practice in any given day. In other words, don't try to practice for 3 hours when you haven't been playing at all. My goal for the fall is to consistently practice for at least 2 hours a day. Prior to my break, I was practicing my super efficient hour (see my post about that here). When I came back to the flute this week after taking about a 2 week break due to moving, I started with that hour with lots of extra breaks. I'm now up to practicing for 90 minutes, but with the same amount of breaks.

When setting time limits, the breaks give you time to listen to your body. Don't ignore it. I am still actively working away from the flute when I take my breaks. I stretch or I lie in constructive rest. These activities help me reinforce what I'm doing on the flute, and help me find the ease in my playing without gripping or tensing.

3) Choose materials that allow you to explore without pushing you to your limit. My first day back was spent on nothing but tone. I spent a lot of time in Fiona Wilkinson's The Physical Flute while applying it to Tone Development through Interpretation. Part of holistic practice is to cultivate the mind-body-instrument connection so that it's a free flowing cycle that's completely integrated. When this begins to happen in your practice session, amazing things begin to happen and your self and instrument begin to merge into one.

To choose appropriate practice material, ask yourself these questions: what were you working on prior to the break? What was most challenging? Leave that on the shelf for the time being and take a step or two back. Choose one thing to draw your awareness to. This is also a great way to minimize the destructive criticism that can make your practice session less effective.

The bottom line is this - ease in to your practice in order to cultivate the mind-body-instrument connection. Release any blocks in this cycle with gentle, focused and efficient practice. You'll find it doesn't take hours to get back to feeling like your old self again.

Free the arms, free the sound

I began making some discoveries and in turn, deepening my experiential understanding of my arms while at Summerflute. The beauty of Body Mapping is that as you study and integrate the information, you begin to realize how interconnected all the parts of the body are, and inclusive awareness becomes easier and you really begin to understand the concept of gestalt as Barbara Conable calls it in the first hour of What Every Musician Needs to Know about the Body.

I've been thinking a lot about how my tendency to thrust my hips and pelvis forward ("hip magnet") when I bring my flute up is related to my head (A-O joint balance), neck and arms. Earlier this week, while I was letting curiosity guide me, I stumbled upon a discovery about my arm structure that has helped me feel this relationship on a deeper level. For information on the arm structure before you continue reading, read Lea Pearson's Flute Focus article on safeguarding the hands.

I hadn't practiced for a few days, so I came to the flute with low expectations. I wanted to be kind to myself. I played through some warm-ups in The Physical Flute and a few Tone Development through Interpretation melodies, and that was it. I wasn't particularly pleased with my sound, but my goal in the practice session was to find ease. If I didn't sound the way I wanted, what was interfering with my ease? My practice session ended as an open ended question, but I was happy that I let myself accept that time and I was excited to return.

The next day, I came back to the flute with the same patient curiosity. Since I'm in the middle of moving, I had finally moved my large pool noodle up to my music room to pack it with the rest of my gear. I was playing, glanced at it and decided to put it under my left arm and continue playing. There is a lot of space between the upper arm and the rib cage, but often times we flutists minimize the space we have by squeezing the arm into the body.

I chose to explore with the pool noodle to find a place of no work for my arms. The flute weighs so little, yet I struggle to find the place where I can find the greatest freedom. The noodle lets the muscles relax while it takes on the work, and thus helps the muscles of the upper arm relax and open. What happened after this experience was an instant change in my sound. Right away, the sound felt easier when I removed the noodle.

This was a huge discovery for me because I've been having tendinitis symptoms resurface in my right arm. Since I haven't been practicing large amounts recently, I know that stress and excess computer time is playing a large role in the painful inflammation in my right arm; however, since I've been using the noodle, the pain has subsided. Discovering the place of no work in my arms with the pool noodles gives me a method of self care away from the instrument so that I can reprogram the muscles so that they don't engage and overwork as I hold the flute.

The September issue of Yoga Journal also included an article on Down Dog. The article covers the subtle aspects of the pose, and I noted with interest that it began with Child's Pose so that one could first draw awareness to the shoulders. I read the article and decided, "Why not go into child's pose before I begin playing?" Another aspect that resonated with me at Summerflute was the idea of expanding across the back, but it didn't click for me in a way that I could feel. I got into child's pose, and yes, the muscles were tight; however, I held the pose for a few breaths, came up and then played and I had even more freedom in my sound!

Here are a few questions to ask yourself as you begin your practicing and warm up mind, body and instrument:

• Do you find you have a stuffy sound today?
• Have you noticed your arms?
• Are you working too much to hold the flute up?
• Do you feel expansiveness in your back, or does that part of your body feel closed off?
• When you try to picture a part of your body, does it feel blurry or can you clearly define the area?

Here are additional resources to help free your arms:

Lea Pearson's Hooking it Up: Getting Arms Connected
Lea Pearson's Noodle Notes

Free arms are one of the keys to effortless playing, and one of our places of balance is the arm structure suspended over the ribs. I read a lot of material about the body. I know the information intellectually, and I can explain it to others; however, integrating the information into a internal experience is a lifelong process. My account above is a description of a single discovery. As with music, changing my body map is a process grounded in consistency and repeated exposure to the information.

I love being able to reinforce the change with my instrument. If I feel at ease playing, then I know I've just done something right. My body has become my teacher.

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?

The Super Efficient Practice Hour

I feel like I haven't been getting a whole heck of a lot of work done lately. In the midst of a job search for my husband, we are also moving. We don't know where this will take us, but we're forging ahead. Being the administrative whiz of the family, that means I'm doing a lot of the grunt work on the computer. Given we've done this type of thing several times already, roles are established and defined.

Image courtesy of janetlanier.com

With all the stress that looking for a job and moving brings, my constants are running and music. At the present moment, I have about two hours a day to myself. That leaves one hour for running and one for flute. Not wanting to lose the progress made during my week at Summerflute, I have jumped in with my available time. I have no prominent deadlines coming up, so I can simply explore and enjoy.

How much do you think can be done in just an hour a day? In two weeks with a day off here and there due to life, I've managed to learn 80 percent of the 1st movement of the Copland Duo, I'm ready to finish recording the 4th movement of twtrsymphony's Symphony No 2 by Chip Clark, I'm continuing to solidify my interpretation of the Allemande from the Bach Partita and I am rotating through a satisfactory tone and technique practice schedule using Fiona Wilkinson's The Physical Flute, Walfrid Kujala's Vade Mecum and Marcel Moyse's Tone Development through Interpretation.

How do I do it? I've returned to using the Pomodoro Technique for my sessions and using the Focus Booster desktop app to keep track of time. In short, this technique breaks a half hour into 25 minutes spent working on a task with a 5 minute break. I have been using Session 1 for tone and tech and Session 2 for repertoire. My 5 minute breaks are used for constructive rest.

What I have noticed over these past two weeks has been that the focus I devote to this one hour carries itself through the rest of my day. For one, it's hard to work from home which I have been doing since February. All the distractions are sometimes too tempting, but adding a dose of super focus to my day helps me stay on task for the rest of my to do list, especially those I would rather not do.

When I get my super efficient practice hour done, I feel at peace with myself. I know I've broken my work down into manageable tasks, and I accept that the work I've done is worthwhile. It's taken me a long time to get to the point where I am able to accept who I am as a musician, and find a path that suits me (see my Manifesto for more details about this). My practice goal at this moment in time is to give myself time to begin integrating the next wave of changes into my musicianship. 

The super efficient practice hour is the gift I can give to myself everyday in order to preserve my sanity. We each have our own problems to contend with. Even if you play for a living, do you approach your instrument with joy and curiosity or with dread? It's times like these that make me grateful that I have music in my life to give me a release valve when I begin to internalize my daily stress too much. These life experiences also deepen my appreciation of music, and the range of human emotions that music can express.

My simply advice is this: take the time you have and accept it no matter how little time you may have available. Choose one goal to work towards, and base your work on that goal. Whether you have an hour or you have more, deliberately ensure everything you do in your time works towards that goal. You'll thank yourself.

Note: The foundation of my practice goes back to what I call, "Holistic Practice." I'll be presenting a workshop on it at the upcoming convention for the National Flute Association on Friday, August 10, 8 AM in Octavius 21-23 at Caesars Palace in Las Vegas. The type of focus that we need to achieve real results in the practice room applies so well to the rest of our lives, that "holistic" really describes a way of practicing for our whole selves that we can carry through our day. If you're interested in approaching your practicing in a way that maximizes your time and minimizes stress, this is the workshop for you!

Summerflute Thoughts, Part Three

Masterclass with Liisa Ruoho (thanks to Meerenai Shim for taking this photo)

I continued through the week, enjoying the combination of Alexander Technique, Body Mapping and Feldenkrais while preparing for my next performance for Liisa Wednesday afternoon. On Tuesday, I rehearsed with collaborative pianist Yien Wang and WOW! I had chosen to play the 4th movement of the Reinecke Undine Sonata, and this sonata is a a beast for pianists; however, we ran the movement twice and I felt completely at ease with her by the end of the short rehearsal. She was a treat to work with, and I loved watching her perform during the classes and recitals as she has a wonderful ease in her playing.

The fourth movement is the climax of the Undine story. Hilary Bromeisl describes this movement as,

"The finale movement is the most dramatic and incorporates Hulbrand's scolding, Undine's vain pleading, and the anger and revenge of the water spirits. Despite her anguished appeals, Undine must herself be the instrument of Hulbrand's punishment. At the wedding of Hulbrand and Berthalda, Undine sadly appears and gives Hulbrand a kiss that kills him. At the knight's funeral, Undine secretly joins the mourners. She then vanishes and in her place appears a spring of water from which two small streams encircle the new grave. The return of the loving theme used for the love Undine first felt for Hulbrand creates a touching mood to end the sonata."

Having performed the sonata twice in its entirety recently, I felt that I was ready to take the piece to a new level and I was interested to get Liisa's feedback. When I learned this movement, I found the very dramatic nature of the movement caused old patterns of tension to return. My solution at the time was to find the point of least work at all dynamic levels, and play within certain volume ranges in order to approach this piece differently than I may have before. My goal was to find the "Goldilocks Effort" (Kay Hooper's Sensory Tune-ups) for this movement.

In fact, I had chosen not to really practice the movement at all. I wanted to see what emerged and in the rehearsal with Yien, I began experimenting with the sound to express the unfolding drama instead of only dynamics. Interestingly enough, Liisa's suggested the same path I was feeling.


In my second performance of the week, I noticed a new element. Where the Bach had felt small, I felt that I had a hard time trusting enough to give myself completely to the Reinecke. I desperately wanted to experiment, but my efforts fell flat because of a lack of confidence in myself. I was connected to the music and to the audience this time around, but I played it safe.

Liisa's direction was pretty simple. Give yourself completely to the music and all the emotions it expresses. For the fourth movement of the Reinecke, this is a big job and it meant playing a lot louder. If I had taken Liisa's suggestion at face value without any knowledge of my body, I would have simply proceeded to try harder which would have resulted in a lot of muscle tension. Instead, she had not only asked me to play and feel more emotion, but she was essentially having me translate her directions on the spot with her guidance.

Just like in my prior performance, I had changes in my sound happen immediately. I tried a few phrases and although I wasn't attempting to muscle my way through, I did notice a big difference in how I used my whole body.


One of the points Amy touched on through the week in What Every Musician Needs to Know about the Body was the need for translation. When a teacher tells you something, it is your responsibility to translate it onto the instrument. This is where Body Mapping can come in handy, and this is how I was able to apply Liisa's suggestions right away on stage.

For example, say your flute teacher asks you to support the sound more. What does this mean? Traditional pedagogy can sometimes be very vague and when discussing internal aspects of flute playing, students are left to decipher what something like "support" means. This deciphering is otherwise known as translation, and if you can translate musical instruction through the lens of Body Mapping, the results can be very positive and can lead to more expansive, musical playing.

Trust and translation. Two huge lessons all in the span of 25 minutes.

Recapturing the joy in music making

I don't have children of my own but I get to work with children closely as a private flute teacher. I've also taught larger groups of children from ages 5-12.

I love children's natural curiosity and since I'm still a big curious kid myself always asking questions, it bothers me that children nowadays have a tendency to shy away from asking questions. Society in general has shifted from valuing critical thinking to valuing conformity and accepting the filtered information that is fed to us.

My goal as a private teacher is to develop a child's interest in music and help them towards musical independence so that they can nurture and enjoy listening and playing music as a lifelong activity. I don't tell my students everything. I ask them pointed questions until they figure out the answer on their own. It may take longer this way, but I want them to think for themselves. When they arrive at the answer, it's a memorable occasion and the information will more likely stick. They can find joy in learning a new piece of information or a new way to approach and practice a piece. I feel this is my contribution to the world in general if I can encourage my students to think and ask questions.

As adults, we may have trouble retaining the joy in music. Competition, lack of motivation, life in general and other factors slowly degrade our passion from joyous to toiling. How can we prevent this?

I've been reading Rosamund and Benjamin Zander's book "The Art of Possibility: Transforming Personal and Professional Life." Every time I read a chapter, I either find myself excited and my motivation returning or I'm moved to tears by the pure emotional clarity. Adults make things complicated. This book encourages us to remove the blinders of judgment and assumption and just be.

I think the most effective thing we can do to recapture joy in our music making is to find presence in our day to day lives. That presence will transfer to our performances, and we will be happier and more fulfilled. Presence helps us rise above the detail of a piece and helps us find context or the longer line in life. I really didn't understand this concept until I began practicing yoga. Rather than trying to run away from the discomfort of a more challenging yoga pose, I chose to stay with it. Presence is a discipline that can reap many rewards.

Life in general stinks, but we have the possibility to change that today and every day forward. As a musician, I'm incredibly lucky to be able to come to my instrument daily and remind myself of all the good things about life. When you find yourself drifting today, notice what you smell or what you hear. Bring yourself back to the present moment and be grateful. This is the essence of joy.

The Stages of Practice: the Taper

Remember my Practice like you Train post last summer?

With my Philly gig coming up in a couple of weeks, I'm quickly approaching my taper which is something I didn't mention in my previous post. In addition to varying your weekly practice into different types of "runs," consider the training stages as well.

In the winter, a lot of runners take time off from training and either build their base mileage (their foundational weekly mileage level) or run their current base mileage at a slower pace. Now that we're less than a week away from spring, a lot of runners I know are in training for their spring races. Training usually consists of easy runs, speedwork and long runs. At the end of training, runners go into a taper. They back off on their mileage and rest in between easy miles.

What does this mean to us as musicians, especially when learning a new recital program?

First off, I haven't prepared a full recital program since my college days. I've caught myself gravitating towards the way I used to prepare in college. It was focused and one-dimensional and I had successful recitals, but I'm curious to see how much more efficient I can make my practicing while incorporating all the other stuff I've learned since then with a full program.

I have found that the more into the "zone" (super focused, worried about technical aspects of the instrument, less self-aware) I get, the more self-doubt creeps in. I don't like this because it leaves me feeling tense and anxious.

Instead, I'm working for a few more days on the music on specific spots and then it will be a process of looking at the whole and really feeling the music flow. What do I want to communicate when I get on the stage on March 31? What is it that I have to say with the music I've chosen?

I'm finding myself doing a lot of listening and assimilating and not so much playing right now. Mental practicing has been especially useful and effective, too.

It feels good to reach this point of preparation and feel secure in the work that I've done. I'm increasingly excited to finally share myself with the world in my own self-produced show.

Listening to your body and mind during the stages of preparation for any performance is crucial for success. Trust that you can move to the next stage of your practice and have the faith to let go in order to freely give your music to the world.

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.

The latest in my journey with managing performance anxiety

I was excited to play as part of Classical Revolution Philadelphia's monthly gig at One Shot Coffee. I've been wanting to hang out with them for a while and this was my first opportunity to come out and meet up with them. I was fortunate to have my husband be able to come so he could film my performance on my iPhone.

This was the result:



I'm OK with this performance, although I didn't feel in complete control and it is why I'm using these types of opportunities to sort out current issues before my Philadelphia and Virginia performances. My experience with performance anxiety has evolved into a delayed response that starts only after I've begun playing. Rather than mental chatter being front and center, it bubbles under the surface. Breathing becomes labored to the point it feels like I'm hyperventilating especially in softer passages.

So I certainly don't think it's a coincidence that I heard Alexander Technique teacher Jessica Wolf mentioned by Keith Underwood in his class I attended last Friday or again in another circle. What I wasn't aware of is her post graduate training course for Alexander teachers titled, The Art of Breathing.

As I reflect on yesterday's performance, I realize even more now that physical and mental stress is affecting my ability to breathe without interference while I'm performing. Essentially, performance anxiety induced tension is interfering with my ability to breathe well. Once I stop playing, muscular tension subsides and my breathing returns to a normal state.

I see improvements in my playing that I'm happy with but I'm on a neverending journey to produce the best musical product that I can. Focusing on one thing alone isn't the solution, but I want to continue bringing awareness to my breathing in my daily practice.

Here's a couple of great articles I've come across recently that have helped put things back in perspective for me so that I don't begin to overthink all the delicate complexities of playing a musical instrument:

Thinking vs Awareness by Jennifer Schneiderman

Frank M Sheldon's thoughts on consequences of End-Gaining

One of the greatest joys of playing music is the lifelong learning that accompanies it. Constantly learning, constantly reflecting, constantly sharing. Here's to the next one.

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.

Separating from the ego

Ever since Marion Harrington rehashed a recent experience she had with performance anxiety, I’ve been thinking a lot about the ego and its effect in my professional life. I’m finally comprehending that it’s not so much about me eking out a living teaching and performing but about the people I collaborate with. I'm more aware than ever that I can't go it alone.

Twitter has opened a new world for me (ask me why I love twitter!). Without twitter, I wouldn’t have found the support network that I now lean on and has helped me realize what I'm now writing about. People that I met via random twitter conversations have become colleagues whose opinion I respect and who I hope to play music with someday. Honestly, I don’t know that I would be on my current, completely unexpected path of returning to school not for another music degree but one in physical therapy if it hadn’t been for these connections.

I can’t believe that I will get to perform with some of those colleagues this year. In addition to Marion’s Classical Music Connects project, I will be giving two performances in Philadelphia/New Jersey and Southwest Virginia (locations, dates and times TBD). In Virginia, I’ll be collaborating with another CMC musician, Erica Sipes, who wholeheartedly jumped on board when I e-mailed her my outreach idea.

These opportunities wouldn’t be coming about if I were still concerned about my ego. I would have let self-doubt stop me from taking action on anything for fear it wouldn't come to fruition. I'm a procrastinator for multiple reasons, but I procrastinate because of my ego. We spend so much time worrying about what others think of us and how we stand in the competitive pool of talent that we forget what it’s like to be part of a collective that isn’t trying to tear us down (real or imagined).

I would be lying if I said that this realization has made life any easier.

I’m fighting my ego as I begin preparing the program for these upcoming performances. Every time I begin getting too big for my britches or I’m paralyzed by self-doubt, I remind myself that I am part of a collective force. I have a “tribe” that gets me, gets my ideas and is on the same page. They want to change the classical music world just like me.

In the blog I write for my local newspaper, I am constantly returning to community, collaboration and connection as focal points. Those are so important for our local communities and I’m so happy to put these into practice with colleagues scattered all over the globe. With my ego in check, I’m opening myself up to new experiences and expanding my definition of community daily.

Earlier this week, author Patti Digh posted a eloquent Mindful Monday post about letting go and as I work to make my ego secondary to my work. I’ll leave you with her words:

“Clear ground.
Let it go.
Feel your heart and spirit soar.”

Cultivating Awareness

Earlier this year, I attended the Andover Educators’ Biennial Conference. It was a life changing experience. I am now proud to announce that I am an Andover Educator Trainee, and I am now studying towards becoming a licensed educator to teach What Every Musician Needs to Know about the Body.

The basis of incorporating an accurate body map into one’s playing is with inclusive awareness. In my own study of Body Mapping since taking a course with Amy Likar in 2004, inclusive awareness well…escaped my awareness. Barbara Conable teaching the first hour of What Every Musician Needs to Know about the Body cleared this up, and the conference then became an exploration of this awareness.

Since the conference, I have been processing and thinking about how to approach my flute with more mindful awareness. Where yoga helps me center my self and connect mind to body, inclusive awareness helps keep all the complex processes that go into playing an instrument in my periphery without losing awareness of the music or my body.

Before the conference, I was mindful about my playing but my mindfulness didn’t transcend my issues with performance anxiety. Although I intellectually knew negative words like “controlling” and “trying” are detrimental, those habits continued to manifest themselves in performances. No matter how often I perform, I still get the adrenaline rush. My heart pounds, my breath becomes shaky, and I become a tense shell of the musician that I am.

In the months since, my awareness has shifted to a mindfulness that doesn’t scan from one part of my body to another and then shifts to a tricky section in the music. It lets everything be without trying or controlling the result. When these moments of true inclusive awareness happen, my heart fills with joy. I get true fulfillment. I listen better, I play better, I embody the music better. Everything is just better.

I am a perfectionist. I’ve liked to deny that for years but the truth is, I am. I procrastinate because nothing I do can ever truly be good enough. Doing things at the last minute and getting less than stellar results means I can blame “being so busy” or “lack of time” for perceived failures.

When it comes to performance anxiety, I believe that inclusive awareness will help me get over the hurdles in ways that I haven’t been able to move past.

Shortly after the conference, I had a two gig day. I played for a church service in the morning and performed on the program of a friend’s studio recital in the afternoon. Playing in church has always been less nerve wracking for me than other scenarios. Perhaps it’s that the congregation is there to worship and I’m enhancing their experience, so not all the attention is on me.

There was a particular scripture read in the service that resonated with me. In Philippians 1:17, it talks about preaching with sincerity. How many of us perform with sincerity, or do we perform purely out of ambition?

Hitting the wall

I practiced last night. I had several wonderful moments where I felt like I knew what I was doing.

But my practicing ended on an ugly, frustrated note. I spent most of my time on tone work so I could explore Body Mapping principles, using my ball, using my pneumo pro to incorporate some more work into my playing.

It backfired.

Music is the goal of everything I do. I ended up frustrated with myself because the exploration became a study in concentrating and scanning. Instead of freely playing, I began concerning myself with organizing my movement which is still a concept I'm struggling with. I'm still struggling with finding balance and trying to hold it because I'm scared I'll lose it.

The moments of absolute freedom and musicality make my journey worthwhile and exhilarating. But it's these moments of frustration that bring the fighter out in me. Already, I feel a desire to pull my flute back out and try again. I refuse to give up.

I'll bottle that desire up and try again tomorrow. We all feel like this. It's how we choose to deal with it that matters. Honestly, I sat down, put my face in my hands and cried a little. But I got over it. I'm not performing tomorrow. I'm simply giving myself the time I need to make changes in my playing that will let the music shine through. Explore and challenge yourself to grow.

I simply gave myself permission to fail. I wasn't successful last night but I'm one step closer.

*photo courtesy of daarkeaagejeethai.blogspot.com

Racing or Fluting, Performance Anxiety Exists

I’m running the Army Ten Miler for the second time this Sunday and I’m a little nervous.

I didn’t follow a set training plan, but I increased my mileage from week to week and ended things with a 7 mile long run. Now I’m tapering and resting and I’ve had to keep my easy runs from turning into a mad dash when I start thinking about last year’s excitement. My run yesterday was an easy 11:00/mile pace, which makes me hopeful that I can PR (“personal record” for you non-race folks) compared to last year’s broken toe time (1:59:14). That doesn’t stop the occasional butterflies when I think about Sunday morning.

It’s a lesson in dealing with performance anxiety. The race part is easy – I can use those nerves to my advantage since it’s a methodical sub-2 hour process. How do I cram those lessons learned over a 2 hour period into a 10 minute audition or performance?

The biggest thing that has helped me shake the nerves is to acknowledge them. I attempted this in the audition I took a couple of weeks ago, and it helped somewhat. I gladly welcome pre-audition nerves because it means less adrenaline in the actual audition.

We’ll see what happens in my race on Sunday. I think my nerves are coming from a worry that I didn’t train long enough or I didn’t strength train enough. I have to accept that I’m as ready as I can be at this time. Just as we worry that we didn’t prepare enough in the practice room, the lessons I learn as an amateur runner easily translate to music. All we can do is plan, discipline ourselves to get the work done and remain self-confident.

Regardless of my performance anxiety on the course or in the audition room, both experiences make me crave more and they reaffirm that I need challenges in my life. Let the excitement of the moment overshadow your momentary discomfort. Accept the challenges and grow.

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.