One of my lovely student's, Linda, had the assignment of writing out the song she's currently learning. Because she's a kinesthetic learner (learns best by "doing") I needed her to use her hands and body to get to know the song better.

We both noted that Rigadoon is a Sandwich song-form. Her favorite sandwich? Peanut Butter & Nutella. A+ Linda!

"Sustainability" is a hot word these days. Its popularity doesn't devalue the meaning of it in a musicians life, though. We need sustainability. Unfortunately we are known for late night gigs, smoking like chimneys, drinking like fish, and living like paupers - a life that cannot be sustained by much more than foolishness. I'd love for this generic statement about musicians to be proven wrong, especially through my own life. Sustainability takes smarts and foresight - two things I think we'd all like more of in our lives.

In approaching the writing of this blog post, I've asked myself the hard question. What areas of my life are not sustainable? and Speaking honestly,

1) I don't move as much as I should. On my teaching days, I sit for the entirety of the day - cellists play sitting down. The nature of my instrument which is also the nature of my profession is to play sitting down. That's fine and all, but when your days are spend sitting down, eventually my arse will mold to the chair. Thank God, I'm not at that point yet.
2) I don't save money as much as I'd like. Living like a pauper might be the only generality that applies to all musicians at one point or another. I'm okay with that. I find fulfillment of life through what my hands do all day (even if I'm sitting down.) But as I put on my foresight-goggles, I find that if i continue at this financial pace, I'll never have the option of grad school, health insurance, buying a house, or eventually retiring. It's unfortunate, but money gives life options and stability.
3) My car is ready to kick the bucket any minute. Ask any one of my friends and you'll find that because of statement number two, I've had leather belts hold my car's hood down (now it's a bike lock.) I can't go 60 mph without the hood raising up 2 inches, threatening something worse. I've still got last years mail stuck in my back windows (holding them up.) and this month marks the 19th month of the everlasting duct-tape on my driver's-side rear-view window. It's beyond the point of hilarity. I now just roll my eyes.

Combining these three unsustainable ways of life, I've come to a fantastic and challenging solution... A Bicycle.

The Fall of 2010 will hold a lot more movement, a wee larger savings account, and no car hassles. I'm using the remainder of the summer to plan routes, purchase supplies, and prepare for easing into the vibrant bicycle culture of Seattle. Seattle has a "One Less Car" program. Zipcars. Green Lanes. Trails. Clubs. Blogs. Sharrows. Rides. Communities.

Awesome.

I'm even considering purchasing a Burley Kid's trailer to pull my cello to rehearsals, home lessons, and performances... Kinda like this:

Inhale.

Personally, I really enjoy reading. I've been reading continuing-ed topics, parenting books (on behalf of my younger students), novels, favorite authors, and more. I also have re-discovered the enjoyment of music by going to concerts not to play in them, but to go to them to listen. (What a novel idea, huh?!) I've always been a fan of listening to music, but going to witness the music is a much different thing, at least for me as a performer. What does all this have in common? Intake. Just like the body, the musician must have something to produce out of.

Julia Cameron, author of The Artist's Way, will agree with me. She says, "Art is an image-using system. In order to create, we draw from our inner well. This inner well, an artistic reservoir, is ideally like a well-stocked trout pond." We must feed those fish & keep the water full and clean in order for that ecosystem to stay alive and thriving! By no means would we wish for our "ponds" to become stagnant & deathly.

Artistic intake is different for each artist. Like I mentioned above, reading is one of my artistic intakes/inhales. I know of others who read design blogs, attend conferences regularly, go on walks, visit museums, enrich their relationships in order to maintain a healthy artistic ecosystem. Julia suggests to, "Do what intrigues you, explore what interests you; think mystery, not mastery."

Exhale.

I do my best to perform as much as I can & in as many contexts as possible. I practice the cello regularly. I play in orchestras, rock bands, recording studios, recitals (like this weekend's), and amongst friends in rehearsals. This is an obvious artistic exhaling.

But that's just the artistic, creative side of breathing. What about the physical, relationally, emotional, and mental? Well fortunately, and sometimes confusingly, they are all connected. So, what are other forms of exhaling? I need to cultivate and lean on friendships. Go on walks with those friends. I need to write, journal, and practice.

Balance.

I know from experience that if I don't physically intake (eat breakfast,) my emotional and physical self lag behind everything else. This means if any aspect of our pond runs dry, the rest of the ecosystem fails.

The need for balance is mystifying. Too much water and you drown. Too much food and you go into a food-coma. Too much air, you hyperventilate. Physically the notion of and need for balance remains imperative. Imperative and mysterious.

Is there a measure for this balance? What do you think? Leave your comments below.

Oh man, what a topic! I talk about the body a lot during my day. In the lessons that I teach, I talk a lot about ergonomics: how the music comes from your brain through your back, arms, elbows, fingers, and into the bow; how your feet should be flat; how to sense when to stop playing if you feel pain; how the body is best held up by the back, not your arms; and finally why you should drop that shoulder and let it do what it is supposed to do. I do this for most of the lessons, because for some reason, especially with adults, we have a hard time working with our own bodies to accomplish a task well & easily. (I'm considering taking a Feldenkreis workshop soon and will keep in touch with the results.)

But what about the rest of health? Health does not just cover your body. It covers your mind, and spirit and even things like your dreams. (Don't leave yet, I'm not gonna get all faloozy on ya.) But seriously. Someone can really have unhealthy dreams - be they unrealistic, or harmful to others. Your mind can overtake your health - believe me, I've seen it happen in my own life. And just like it, your spirit can bring sacred or rancid elements into your life.

So as a musician, what is it like to bring health to your life? What does it look like? What are the elements that make up a healthy lifestyle for a musician?

NOTE: Since this is a big deal for not only me personally, but also covers a LOT of terrain, you have just finished reading the 1st of many posts on this subject in the coming days. Feel free to leave comments with more fodder for the subject, more questions, more problems, more solutions. I look forward to hearing from you all!

"Whateva! Whateva, I do what I want!" - Cartman, Southpark

That's the beautiful part of being self-employed. I can do "whateva" I want. I'm able to barter services for other services, such as cello lessons for guitar lessons. Tara Ward is both my new student and my new teacher.

It's a good exercise to begin again from scratch with an instrument. The feelings that were so strong when I started the cello are a little closer in my memory than they used to be. "What the heck are my fingers trying to do here?!" or "Why won't they just do what I want them to do?!"

It's the same feelings, except the things I've learned and taught my students have become a routine internal dialog. The negative self-talk I had in high school during practice sessions has become the same dialog I have with my cello students in class/lessons. This is such a good thing. & boy, do I not miss that kind of self-talk...

• Black or White Thinking (You’re either perfect or a total failure!)
• Catastrophic Thinking (Exaggerating the significance of one single event!)
• Pessimistic Thinking (Seeing only the negatives and assuming the worst!)
• Self-fulfilling Prophecy
• Should Statements (Being ruled by a rigid set of rules!)
• “It’s-not-my-fault” Thinking (Shifting responsibility for your behaviors!)
• Mind Reading (Assuming people are thinking the worst about you!)
• Discounting (Can’t accept positive feedback!)
• Comparing (Always comparing self to others!)

The funny thing is that after just re-reading that list (thank you random pdf from UCLA via google), my first thought was, "Boy is that a lot of exclamation points." But it's true that's exactly how a practice session feels when you've got a negative self-dialog. It's awful.

My honest to God belief is that is the only reason why someone would begin to hate practicing. I can think of a few relationships I've had with folks who have an external negative dialog. They are no fun to be around. Your relationship with your practice sessions can be just as toxic as any other relationship.

Fortunately the only way to learn something is to teach it - in this case, for me, it's the negative self-talk. There's no way that I would make the same presumptuous accusations towards my own students! Heaven's to Betsy! That'd be a terrible experience for both of us. Unbeknownst to me, I've been practicing the correct self-dialog with my students.

So as I'm trying to teach my clumsy right-hand fingers a wee bit more autonomy through finger picking on the guitar, I'm discovering both the familiar feelings of drowning in unfamiliarity and also the bright new voice in the dialog of practicing. I want to remind myself of the most important facets of learning an instrument and a very important facet of living - effective and encouraging self-dialog. I only hope that my students can get a glimpse of how to better treat themselves through practicing and through their lessons.

From littlecellist.com's most recent eletter. (You should sign up for them too!)
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It seems to us that it is no easy business learning the cello. But can you imagine what it would be like to learn the cello if you were deaf? We spoke to two cellists with severe hearing loss who have done just that.

Jake Lamb is fifteen. He has been learning the cello with an organization called Music and the Deaf. Just as for any other young cellist, part of the fun is playing the cello with other children and making new friends. Jake is a member of The Deaf Youth Orchestra and also of Hi-Notes, a group made up of deaf musicians who compose and perform their own work.

Jake very kindly answered some questions for littlecellist.com:
In what sense can you hear what you are playing?
I can hear a bit with hearing aids but benefit more from feeling vibrations.

How can you tell whether you are playing in tune?
My teacher usually tells me if I’m out of tune but sometimes I can feel it myself because the vibration is different.

Is the cello a good instrument for a deaf musician?
Yes, it’s really good because of the vibrations which I feel mainly in my bowing hand.

How about playing with other musicians?
We always look at the sheet music, watch the conductor and make eye contact with one another to make sure that we play in time.

What do you like best about playing the cello?
It feels great. I performed at the Royal Albert Hall, over a year ago, which was one of the best days of my life!  
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Woah. I can't imagine the amount of sensitivity it would take to be deaf and to play any instrument.

One of my favorite things to do with young children who've never seen a cello before, is to offer the back of my cello for them to feel while I play an open C (the lowest note on the cello). Their little faces look down at their hand before the note starts. As soon as their hand starts to vibrate with the rest of the cello, their little faces pop up with their eyes as big as grapefruits, "I can feel it Miss Emily! I can feel it!" I love that moment - when a child begins to understand that music is not just sound, but so much more...

This year has been a season of "Story."  I've sought to define it for myself, ask what contributes to it, and brought this concept to the table in my relationships. I've even pursued inserting it into my profession of music more often than it already does. Songs, especially pop songs, have story. They are written out of tension, sorrow, love, anger resulting from a story.  As a musician who doesn't write songs from scratch very often, interpreting someone else's story is my main prerogative when I'm on stage.

Before I teach a student a new song, we usually discuss this concept of "story." You see, an audience wants to hear a good story through your song. They love it. Especially if you set it up for them to hear the story well.  "Which story are you going to tell with the song 'Long, Long Ago?,'" I say, "Will you interpret the ascending line as an ascending volume? tension? clarity? or will you interpret the ascending melody line as somber, sorrowful, or sweet? What picture are you painting for the ears that hear your song?" 

So I ask, what stories have impacted your life in this season? How will you tell that story to others? What pictures are you painting for the ears that hear your song?

I can't wait to read Donald Miller's new book: A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. I hear its pretty good one to read if you're into "story..."