While taking lunch with some friends today, a story was told by one them about an encounter he had with a famous classical guitarist. This friend was performing at a master class, and could not help but exude nervous energy with the esteemed player sitting next to him on stage. Perhaps my friend fumbled a bit at times, or noticed with greater scrutiny every minor error he made as they happened, the over-abundance of stimulation rendering his usual relaxed self stiff, awkward, and not quite natural.
Alright, I've taken some artistic liberties in describing the scene. Having not been there, I can only imagine how things played out. The point is, my friend was clearly nervous playing for so famous a guitarist, and as my friend's story tells, the guitarist obviously sensed it.
Finished the piece, perhaps my friend prepared himself for an onslaught of withering critique (based on an earlier story of a similar situation, this was not an unwarranted expectation).
Instead, the eminent guitarist turned to my friend and began, more or less, by saying, "You know, stage-fright is often just a manifestation of ego; we want to be for the audience something better than what we are. We come out here sweating that we won't live up to this expectation we've made for ourselves."
Turning to my friend, the guitarist continues, "Tell me young man, how confident would you feel if all you had to do was come out here and play the first note of the piece you just played?"
To this my friend replied, "Well, I'd feel pretty confident."
The guitarist smiles. "See, that's how a dog might feel if a dog could play guitar. A dog isn't worried about the future, or even the next note; a dog just plays, as though each note was the first note of the entire piece. We can learn from the dog you know; to take very big tasks and turn them into something small, more manageable. We can learn to put into each note the same confidence and energy we put into the first note of anything we play. The dog's example teaches us to stay focused on the note we're playing right now, rather than shiver at the prospect of pages and pages of notes to come."
I found this story to be very interesting, particularly because it applies to performance an idea I've often only considered helpful for practice.
Learning something new can be daunting, particularly when it involves a massive body of knowledge and skills. Breaking down the task into smaller pieces can help a person stay motivated, and more easily manage the difficulties that arise during any such venture.
Yet this guitarist suggests that such techniques can also be fruitfully employed during high-pressure performances. This makes some sense, because pressure (or an over-abundance of stimulation) can make even simple tasks seem daunting. In other words, it's easy to become overwhelmed, just as when you start learning a difficult subject.
So whether you're starting a new habit, learning a new skill, or performing in a high-pressure situation, it may help to remember the lesson of the dog, which has nothing in mind except the very thing it is presently doing; a single task that might be as easy as playing the first note of a long-practiced piece.
Happy Friday, friends :)
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