graduation

Kind of.

And all the things I can think to say are really corny. But I feel corny. I haven’t been in the habit of finishing things, but here I am, finished. I feel like saying things such as, “I made it!” and “The sky’s the limit!” ad nauseam. Most addicts will tell you that, in their addiction, they never finished anything, but this was my modus operandi long before addiction. I used to get so overwhelmed, so anxious I’d just shut down. That became a familiar path for me. The foray along a new one has been very painful and uncomfortable. But I’ve made the first step. Well, the first big step, made up of a bunch of smaller steps fraught with missteps.

And the thing I’m taking away (even though I’m not leaving) is this: It’s so simple. It’s SO SIMPLE. I’ve been making it difficult. One of the best things I know is that life is better if you relax. It applies to everything, but especially to music. When someone starts on a new instrument, they’re all tense and uncertain, whereas the poise of a pro is ease. 

What I don’t mean is that you should sit there on your computer and not do anything, or that you shouldn’t practice your instrument. Instead, when you sit down to do your scales, don’t worry about it so much. You can let worry drive you, and you, like me, will go crazy. Conversely, you can let the desire for the thing itself drive you, e.g. I want to be good at piano, so I’m going to do my scales. Worry sounds like this: dammitI’mbehindandthatguyIhateiswaybetterthanmeso IHAVETODOTHESESCALES!

So, if I could say one thing to you, it’s this:

relax

Stop trying to keep all your plates spinning, because you can’t and because it hasn’t been you keeping the plates spinning in the first place and because it’s freeing.

It’s hard to live like this at every moment. Most of us are wired to do the opposite – control, control, control – and it happens in little ways. Here’s an example:

I was walking the streets of Chicago today, and I came upon a young couple sitting on the sidewalk. Sitting this way cannot have been comfortable, especially for the boy. He was sitting up against a wrought-iron fence, ass-to-concrete. The girl looked more relaxed, laying on him a little bit, but that poor boy looked so tense. I could tell he was doing everything he could to hold the position in which he sat because the moment was so perfect and her being so close was setting him on fire. I laughed to myself because I remember being his age with a girl, how it felt as though if I made one wrong move, if I adjusted my position too much, I was going to spoil everything. My heart would beat so fast at the tiniest things – shit. is she upset? she hasn’t moved or spoken in a way that would signify she’s upset. she’s not upset. is she? – my hands sweaty and trembling, my breathing shallow.

It was awful! and it’s how trying to keep the plates spinning feels: sitting in uncomfortable positions on concrete.
So. Take a deep breath,

and let go