The Point

What’s the point of learning to sing or play an instrument?  Better yet, what’s the point of doing anything? 

These are questions that cross my mind often, and in the last 24 hours the topic keeps popping up in conversations and articles like mad.  The difference in the last day or so is that I feel like I am getting closer to understanding something about it. 

I've started to understand what the point is not.  The point is not achievement.  Check.  The point is not self glorification.  Check.  The point is not money or stuff.  Check.  The point is not approval.  Check.  All these outward things eventually dissolve, so the point is . . . well . . .

This is where you get to figure it out for yourself.  You get to peel back the layers of thought and feeling and intention within yourself to discover your point, or where you are coming from.  So, how are you being while you sing?  Are you full of joy and radiance, or a luke warm attitude?  Are you working to get somewhere, or are you basking in the brilliance that you are right now?  Are you rejecting the sound that’s coming out of your mouth, or are you enjoying that you have a voice?  Are you cranky about your voice, or are you delighted?

Trust me, I struggle with these distinctions daily, and they are very subtle.  These kinds of questions might help us realize that the point of life is not what we do, but how we are.  What arises from our hearts infects and supports everything else in life, including the way we produce sound.  I would stand to argue that a truly free sounding and feeling voice originates in a free heart.

Next time you open your mouth to sing, ask yourself:   What's in my heart?  Why am I singing?  What motivates me to share music?  And whatever answer arises, you can love that too!  We are all on the journey to discovering a "point,” and as we get collectively closer to whatever it is, I imagine our voices will get clearer and more beautiful.  I imagine we will spill over with joy and our voices will radiate glory. To me, that’s the point.

For more inspirational reading today, check out performance coach Jennifer Hamady's article, "Lucky, Lucky Me" in Psychology Today.

What will this voice sound like now?

Today's topic: most likely nothing horrible will happen if we screw up.  It's true.  Even after the most dramatic "mistake" the world continues to turn and love still flows.  I believe everything is redeemable.  This goes for musical mistakes as well as big, huge life mistakes.  Heck, what would anyone learn without them?  And heck again, something is really only a mistake by perception anyway! 

Have you ever heard the story about the man who jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge and survived?  He realized on the way down that the only unfixable problem in his life was the decision to jump off the bridge - everything else would have resolved itself. 

When I am in the midst of a perceived mistake, big or small, I often don't remember that life will somehow transform itself.  But, after all is said and done, my voice still sounds.  Always.  Even if it makes noise through a blog or a song, sobs or laughter.  The world continues to turn and love continues to weave its magic.

Then, remembering that no mistake can ever destroy my spirit allows me to try again, sing with more guts and engage in an attitude of curiosity . . . "ok, so what next?"

What will this voice sound like now?

We Are Somewhere in the Middle

There will always be someone better than you at your instrument or voice, and there will always be someone worse than you.  You fall somewhere in the middle of the range.  Always. 

The reason this line of thinking feels so important to me is that it helps me stay grounded in reality and connected to the passion that made me start playing music in the first place.  If each of us can take an honest look at where we are, what we know and don’t know, then we can (collectively) get further away from the suffering created by ego-based thinking that keeps us locked in untruth. 

And, yes, there is always going to be that someone who is the absolute very best at something in the moment.  But, eventually another someone will come along to “break the record” and sail past it like a rocket into the night.  4 minute mile, anyone?

Ok, so back to my original tangent . . . and the reason I wanted to write this article.  Last year one of my students was struggling with executing a piece of music on piano.  Piano was not his primary instrument.  I asked him to play the song for me and within the first few bars it was obvious he just simply didn’t know how to play the piece.  I had just heard a host of reasons why he couldn’t play the piece, and as he struggled over the keyboard I wondered what would happen if he could simply admit that he didn’t know how to play it.  Could he approach playing piano with curiosity and wonder instead of a litany of reasons why he couldn’t do it?  The reality in that moment was that he didn’t know how to play the song.  That was the end of the story line.  He added the belief that he was a poor piano player, which was affecting his progress.  What if the story could become more truthful and in turn more hopeful?  What if, when we lack ability, our thoughts stopped at “I don’t know how to do this YET!”  I propose we would act more like children and dive right on in.  We might even enjoy learning, who knows?

And, yes, like this student there are things we simply cannot do yet.  But it won’t always be that way.  Telling ourselves we are the worst (or the best) at something will always lead us away from the truth.  The truth, once again, is that we are somewhere in the middle.  Always.  And if we can let go of our need to be at the top or bottom, we stand a chance to actually be present with what we are doing and enjoy ourselves while we play.  That joy will eventually lead us to our greatest ability. 

Now, all that said, there are many beliefs that keep us from our having an open, joyful heart when we sing or play.  Realizing we are all in the middle somewhere is just one helpful thought that I use to keep myself in check.  It does not replace the experience required to master a technique or instrument.  It does not excuse us to be lazy or mediocre.  It does not give us passion. Though, it does give us an opportunity to be more loving toward ourselves so that we can realize our true greatness, wherever that falls between the best and worst.

Peace,

Liz

New year, new voice

This January marks the beginning of my 7th year teaching jazz voice.  I decided to start blogging as a way to share some of my experiences as an educator and seeker.  My greatest joy is being a part of the "aha" moments with others, both in the teaching studio and in other areas of life.  Blogging seemed like a natural way to practice writing and communicating with others about their voices.  I hope that you enjoy the articles and decide to share your experiences here also.

I look forward to writing for you.