I have
discovered a state of mind while practicing that I only ever felt while
performing, or when composing or writing.
I have always used a metronome for practicing, and the metronome was the
key for this state of mind.
I’ll start out by talking a bit about the metronome. We all know why it is so
important. We need that impeccable
sense of time. Even then, when
using a metronome, the ego can get in the way; maybe that passage or pattern or
what-have-you sounds “decent” or “pretty good,” and we move it a few notches
up--perhaps even by just two--only to discover that things are considerably harder. We can get impatient, and that
impatience hinders our progress even more.
I
start out slow so that I can execute it cleanly and accurately. Maybe something like 64 or 68. When I practice something at a certain
bpm, I always make sure it is
executed cleanly and accurately.
If it’s not clean and accurate after the first two or three times, I set
my ego aside and knock the metronome down by two clicks. I repeat it as many times as I need to
make it feel effortless; then, I knock it up two clicks, to 66 or 70. If it takes from, let’s say, 105-106 to
make it feel comfortable and effortless after many repetitions, then that’s
what it takes!
So, moving on to my point: I practice with calm and with focus. These two things, for me, are actually accentuated by the pulse of
the metronome. The pulse almost
becomes hypnotic, allowing for even more calm and focus. It took me many practice sessions within
this hypnotic element to realize I was actually feeling something more, something deeper
than just the calm and focus. This
“something” was a kind of serene, meditative state, brought on long periods of
focused practicing. Only recently
have I realized that part of me had always
felt this way at some point in the practice room.
There is a term that describes this serene, meditative feeling. Some might call it being in the “zone,”
which is great. But another word
that better describes what’s going on is “flow.” With flow, I truly believe you can get to that next level of
focused practicing.
Flow is a state of complete immersion that one can reach when one is
inside the creative process. Both action and awareness merge during flow. Mihaly Csíkszentmihályi is the psychologist
who coined the term “flow.” I
first heard him talking about this in a TED talk from 2004, but he had been
working on the concept for many years before then. Interestingly enough, he offers jazz and improvisation as an
example of flow! Most of us have
been there, have been in the “zone” and feeling transcendental, euphoric. Well, flow has many attributes that
constitute its effectiveness, and most of them explain why we feel so amazing within
the experience. Some of these
attributes include a feeling of focus on the task and of a meditative calm, both
of which I believe are paramount for practicing. Others are as follows: complete focus on what we are doing,
and having insight and clarity into what needs to be done; knowing that what
needs to be done can be attained, and that we have control, even if it is
challenging; ecstasy, in that time and reality seem to melt away. This ecstasy is coupled with the
aforementioned feeling of serenity and peace. A list of the attributes of flow can be found here: http://psychology.about.com/od/PositivePsychology/a/flow.htm
Csíkszentmihályi
believes there are a few ways in which flow can start, though not all attributes
need be met for a flow state to begin.
One way we can enter a flow state is by performing just above our
current skill set, where things are just a bit uncomfortable. Csíkszentmihályi says, quoted from the
aforementioned link: “flow…happens when a person's skills are fully involved in
overcoming a challenge that is just about
manageable, so it acts as a magnet for learning new skills and increasing
challenges.” This is huge, especially for jazz musicians. Alongside both calm and focus, this “magnet
for learning new skills and increasing challenges” is probably the most
important practicing concept to grasp. I can name countless
times in which I’ve been practicing something just above or at my current ability on the horn--articulation, overtones,
tone quality, tempo of the passage or idea, expression, etc.—and I started
feeling the need and the desire to do more. That desire made it all feel good, even fun.
Now, I
don’t know about you jazz people out there, but when I’m practicing I don’t
practice things that I already know.
That’s just a waste of time.
I want to improve; so I practice
new things! I recall a clinic
with Terell Stafford at my university, in which he said that when he
practices, he “sucks.” That’s
precisely because he works on things that he’s trying to master. And once they are mastered…well, you move
on! For classical players it is
different. Mastering something, in
some ways, is just the beginning.
Then, beyond just maintaining that level of mastery, one can find and
discover countless new ways to play and interpret that something. But in any case, we don’t need to
necessarily tell ourselves we’re “sucking;” in a flow state the ego must be
suppressed so that we don’t beat ourselves up. More on that later.
Csíkszentmihályi’s
concept relies heavily upon the fact that results and rewards are obtained
through feedback generated by the task itself. For example, we don’t start out playing a long
sixteenth-laden line at 130 bpm right away, and probably not even after two or
three weeks. If we have set clear
goals for ourselves and know those
goals can be achieved, what we are really doing is balancing the challenge with
what we can do. So we break out
that metronome, and set it to 50 or so BPM to balance our skills to the
challenge. From there, we know how
to achieve the eventual goal, which is to get it up to 130 BPM. But we can set mini-goals: maybe we
will have set a goal for 90 or 100 BPM by the weekend, etc. etc. The task becomes its own reward, since
the feedback we’re getting is that of our executing the line cleanly and
accurately at progressively faster tempos. We naturally proceed to raise the challenge bar the more that
particular skill grows, and thus the reward of the task/feedback duality
continues.
As far as practicing is
concerned, I believe that the only
time we get frustrated is on account of two things: 1. The ego starts to
re-surface, and 2. Our concentration
wavers. Now, focused
practicing can be pretty mentally draining. One or two hours of it can reaaallllyyy grind at your brain. But if flow is involved, focused
practicing doesn’t have as much of a grinding effect as you would think. As a matter of fact it has an almost rejuvenating
quality. This leads to more motivation. In other words, flow leads to that
“magnet” of desiring new things to practice and explore. So if you can master getting into the
flow state, then you can reach a whole other level of focused practicing, where
your mental capacity and stamina are greatly enlarged and you really feel good in the practice session.
I remember a mentor of mine who used to say that even if you are
sure that you’ve nailed it…play it again a few times, just a few times
more. And then move on. He
emphasized the need to do this especially when we are feeling mentally drained
and want to end the practice session. Csíkszentmihályi states that
“over-learning” can also help cause a flow state. This applies to practicing, in
which we are really pinning down something to make sure we’ve got it. I
personally feel two things when “over-learning” something I’m practicing: 1. A
great sense of accomplishment, similar to solving a long-winded math equation,
and 2. A boost in my flow state, to
where I want to do just a little bit more practicing in general to make sure I feel completely finished. This “little bit more” can be a
warm-down, or something that else that I had touched on that I want to come
back to so I can even out the edges.
Try “over-learning” something; you might surprise yourself with how good
it feels to have it so comfortable, and effortless.
All that being said, some practicing
can be repetitive, menial, and even boring. But one great way to get into the flow state, even while
doing the boring stuff, is with the metronome.
How does one use the metronome in practice as a means of
meditation, to create a sense of flow? You can do this by self-inducing a kind of “trance.” Check it out: your sense of calm and
focus is accentuated--and can actually be largely brought on—by the pulse of
the metronome. It becomes the
hypnotic catalyst for flow to begin. There are things you can do to help this “hypnosis” really
take hold. Start focusing on
what’s around you: a couple other music stands, the keyboard, your bookshelf,
whatever. When I practice with the
metronome, my sense of flow is brought on most quickly by connecting to my
surroundings. I tap in to the
Buddhist concept of interconnectivity; all things are connected and influenced
by other things. Recall that the fundamental aspect of flow is in the merging
of action and awareness. The
“action” factor includes the task, and “awareness” is the feedback and goals
you’ve set for yourself. You can stretch
awareness out to your surroundings, too.
Your surroundings become very comforting and helpful, and you can use
them with music that you are beginning to memorize or internalize. Remember, also, that hard music is never
truly “hard”: only “unfamiliar.” Even
if you are not trying to memorize or internalize, try looking away from the
music once it has become such a part of you. Use the music you’re playing to connect with your
surroundings in order to feel a sense of calm and focus. Eventually, calm and focus evolve into the
serenity and meditation of the flow state.
Think about it; now even boring
things like scales, getting those orchestral excerpts and transcriptions up
to speed, and even long-tones have the potential to make you feel serene and
meditative! At this point, you
might start looking forward to knocking up the metronome by two clicks! This menial practicing, with metronome
and all, starts to give you the improvement of that which is your goal, but
within a framework of flow, and not a framework of wanting or needing to be
a better player. Whatever kinds of
negative reinforcement you’ve habituated can be done away with in place of
positive reinforcement. That will
make you love and appreciate music even more.
Now, some may criticize this approach and say the ego is
important in practice, because it is the thing that criticizes and tells us what
we’re doing wrong. I agree. But it should not drive the practice session, nor should it include self-induced
negative reinforcement. So; say
we’re practicing something rough, and improvement is too slow, or not even
present. Naturally, I think our
ego should (it doesn’t always if we aren’t aware that something’s wrong) play
the role of common sense and say, “man, this just isn’t working out.” It’s imperative that we know it’s not working out, and that we
aren’t practicing bad habits. If we
don’t know, we need to talk to our private teachers or peers. Furthermore…remember not to let the ego
drive the practice session. So,
what must you do? Back off. But back off calmly and without negativity. Analyze the situation, and figure out
what needs fixing and what you can do to make it better. In other words, bring the challenge back down toward your current skill set. Recall that Csíkszentmihályi’s
concept of flow requires that a challenge must be just about manageable given
your skill set, and not so far above it as to hinder your progress. Start again by setting that challenge
bar at or just slightly above your skill set, and things will be so much more
comfortable. Then, suppress the
ego. Now when I say “suppress” I
don’t mean you should totally remove it.
It just can’t be dominant. Take
a few deep breaths; relax. Now, if
you, or even part of you feels more comfortable, but your ego is still prodding at you, then guess what:
you are perpetuating insecurities about
yourself and your playing.
There’s a fine line between constructively criticizing yourself with
your ego, and letting your ego beat you up. Giving the ego enough room to talk makes practicing
unwelcome, a chore. While you’re
practicing in the flow state, suppress the ego but also let it breathe—only a
little--in order to give yourself a constructive critique. We all must practice, but suppressing
the ego paves the way towards liking to practice.
To enjoy practicing while constructively criticizing ourselves
seems a bit contrary, but there is a great way to marry these two mindsets. We must embrace the mistakes we’re making. Sometimes a piece of music can be so challenging that after a
while, we get frustrated. This must not happen; that’s the ego talking! Step back, and treat the mistake like a
friend, or a compliment. Thank the mistakes for allowing you to
see where you need to improve. In his book Effortless Mastery, Kenny Werner emphasizes the notion of putting
our instrument down or physically stepping away from it, so as to bolster stepping
back mentally to recompose ourselves.
Start doing this every time something isn’t executed cleanly and
accurately. Whenever I make a
mistake or something isn’t right, I follow this process:
·
pause for a few moments
·
embrace the mistake like a friend: accept it,
thank it, and don’t let it enlarge the ego
·
step away or put the instrument down
·
breathe deeply
·
continue
This is a fantastic way to allow your suppressed ego to constructively
criticize while your sense of flow remains solid. If you step back, follow this process, and end with a few
deep breaths, you can maintain the framework of your flow state. Try it out for yourself: note how
frustrated you can get with particular pieces of music, or in executing certain
musical ideas. Gauge how many
breaths you need to take to maintain calm, or how much time you need to put
down or step away from the instrument. This process may not work for everyone; but, you can take bits
and pieces of it and mix them up, or drop one or two. However, I think breathing deeply is key
in the process. The mind and the
body are very in tune with each other when you are in practicing in a focused
way, and that deep breathing is the thing that both connects and soothes the
mind and body.
Flow can eventually bring about a sense of ecstasy, of being
removed from time and perhaps from reality. For me, flow is like an evolution of mental states: once the
ego is suppressed and you are embracing mistakes, a focused and calm state is
the first thing that occurs. This
state, after a time, leads to a more meditative, serene state, where you start
to feel you’re even more comfortable within the beat of the metronome or within
the expressions you’re trying to achieve with air support, touch, etc. And as we do these things such as
stepping away from the instrument and breathing deeply and slowly, this meditative
serenity gradually becomes something more like ecstasy, in which time falls
away and we feel almost exhilarated with it all. Eventually we start looking forward to practicing because we
can start looking forward to flow, and once that happens, what we do as artists
will feel amazing on every level!
Performance puts
into use one’s already established skill sets, while practicing is a thorough
way in which to improve upon those skill sets or to work on new ones. The only difference between flow in
performance and flow in practice is that in performance, the ego must be completely absent, so you can focus your
utmost on creating music. In
practice, the ego must be suppressed enough so that it can help us, not hurt us. But…what
if we practice how we perform? Ok;
let that sink in for a moment…. What
about when we are practicing expression and lyricism, or when we progress from
merely getting something up to tempo to interpreting and expressing that
something? That’s what we crave as
musicians, right? We want to say something with the music,
and we enjoy this the most. For
classical musicians there are endless ways to interpret something, and for jazz
musicians there are endless ideas to learn or communicate with. When we are practicing like we are
performing, we are artistic, and not just running scales or other menial
things. The trick, of course, is to
make everything we practice rewarding
and meaningful; but additionally, to make practicing itself desirable on account of desiring flow.
Furthermore, during performance, you don’t need to tell
yourself you’re a great musician, or that you’re ready to really nail this or
that passage or these and those changes. And certainly you don’t need your ego working negatively; but
you don’t need it working positively, either. The ego gets in the way no matter what. Just let the music flow through you. You get feedback (in the form of
pleasure) from the task itself; that task is making music. Don’t even label anything you’re
producing as positive or negative; all of it is pure musical expression and
emotion. That, in and of itself, is what is positive. That is why we do what we do.
Csíkszentmihályi, in the first few minutes of his TED lecture,
sets up the question that has fueled his work: “What makes people happy and
their lives meaningful?” This
question is the foundation for his theory of “flow.” The flow state is an exhilarating state to be in, because we
are devoting all our attention and skill to the moment. He believes that human beings live not for
love, or success, or accomplishment, but for these moments of flow. That is because flow generates happiness,
and happiness, I think, is the ultimate goal in life, for everyone. So, as musicians, we live for music and
the flow experiences we obtain from them! Music brings us happiness. And so should practicing! Practicing fulfills
the musician’s ultimate goals of persistently pursuing expression and happiness
through music. But it doesn’t stop
there. Flow, and the whole process of music making should be something
for which to live. At the NYU
Steinhardt Jazz Interview Series, saxophonist-extraordinaire Chris Potter explains
that music is such a part of his life and that he can’t imagine his identity
without it. You can find that talk
here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jTbLl0uOv7U. Around 11:30, when asked why he
practices so much, Potter says, “Some of is the desire to get better, but some
of it is just…such a part of the fabric of my life. That’s how I…deal with everything, that’s kind of…my way of meditating;
my way of….doing something to get my energy right so that I can…give that
energy out to people.” I think
that’s how practicing should be for all of us: a way of meditation--or flow--and
patience, in which we gather and hone all our energy and potential. And not just for ourselves, but also
for those who will listen to us when we are performing.
I’m going to end with a series of six sentences that were quoted from
Doug Yeo, the former Boston Symphony bass trombone player. His statement is of a different
motivation from that which I’ve given, but nonetheless I do believe in his
motivation, too. Think of it as the
icing on top of the cake:
·
If you practice, you get better.
·
If you get better, you play with better players.
·
If you play with better players, you play better
music. (Better music=better flow
experiences!)
·
If you play better music, you have more fun. (Fun=flow experiences too!)
·
If you have fun, you want to practice more. (Practice can have flow)
·
If you practice more, you get better....
So? Ready to go practice?
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