After a very satisfying and
forward looking practice session yesterday, I experienced a
psychological breakdown today. It wasn't cognitive or technical; it was
definitely psychological.
I thought "What's the use? I'll never get
this. I'll never be any good. Why am I busting my butt on this? Why
not just go do something fun and easy? Bach is too hard for me. My left
elbow hurts. I'm too old to learn new stuff at the piano. My memory
isn't what it used to be. The heck with it." I ended practice at least 15
minutes earlier than I would have normally.
OK. Deal with it. What's up?
Was
it the sugar in the ice cream I ate last night? I
haven't had sugar
in quite a while. That can mess with my mood.
Was
it the fact that I've been hanging out at the very edge of my abilities
for weeks on end now? I've spent almost all of my practice time
learning new stuff and pushing the limits of what I can do. I've spent
relatively little time playing familiar pieces that I've already
basically mastered, and that I can have the pleasure of refining
musically.
Was it just the usual cycle of good and bad moods? Go do something else and wait it out?
The
thing is, I find that it isn't just music. It never is. Music
reflects what's going on with me more generally. I'm discouraged about
everything this morning, now that I think about it. So it's a mood.
I've had those before. I'll have them again. I can deal with moods.
Things that help me:
Exercise, or even just moving
around.
Breaking my routine.
Being with friends. I'm helping a friend move today. That'll pull me out of my own head.
Heavy drinking. Just kidding!
Remembering my motivations -- I want to have a great looking brain for the autopsy!
Laughing at myself.
The appreciation of beauty.
Also, writing this blog helps. It gives me perspective.
Another
thing that gives me perspective is the experience of other musicians.
Here's a quote from Mike Ragogna's interview with Joshua Bell. Mike
lives here and is an acquaintance of mine. He interviews
musicians of all kinds. Joshua Bell is one of the most famous young
classical violinists working today. He's at the very top of his
profession, but even he is still developing.
MR: What is the biggest growth that you've had as an artist?
JB: Well, since I've started, I've grown about five
and a half feet. (laughs) I did start when I was very young. I was four
years old and being a musician and a violinist is a constant growth
process. You're always learning. It's hard to answer that question. I
mean, I still feel I'm going in the right direction. Each year, I feel
I'm still getting better and finding more insight into the music. The
Franck that I just recorded, for instance, I recorded twenty years ago. I
think I would have a hard time listening to it because I've experience
so much in between, in music and in life in general. Your whole approach
changes as you get older, and I have a better violin now. I have a
wonderful, many-million-dollar Stradivarius violin that was made in
1713. One's sound changes over the years and you refine it. It's a fun job
because you're always evolving and learning.[Before beginning this blog, I was sending emails to a friend. I'm incorporating those into the blog, and embellishing them here and there. This entry was from 1/30/2012.]
Here's part of the reply from the friend to whom I was sending these posts as emails:
ReplyDelete"you'll feel better clawing at your peak than thinking about how you'll never be as good as you'd like."