ON MUSIC: Establishing Flow Within The Practice Session

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?