Doing the Best I Can
“What I am slowly learning to do in my work with music is revive some of the resilient spirit of the exploring and learning baby. I have to accept at each moment, as a fact of life, my present skill or lack of skill, and so the best I can, without blaming myself for not being able to do better. I have to be aware of my mistakes and shortcomings without feeling ashamed of them. I have to keep in view the distant goal, without worrying about how far away it is or reproaching myself for not already being there. This is very hard for most adults. It is the main reason why we old dogs so often do find it so hard to learn new tricks, whether sports or languages or crafts or music. But if as we work on our skills, we work on this weakness in ourselves, we can slowly get better at both.”
—John Holt, Never Too Late
“A voice in my mind began to say, ‘What’s the matter with you? There’s nothing in your part but quarter and eighth notes, you ought at least be able to play them right.’ Of course, these thoughts only made me play worse. After a short while I took hold of myself, and began to say to that scolding voice in my mind, ‘...What difference does it make... what I ought to be able to do? I am doing the best I can, and that is all I can do.’ I said to my playing self, ‘Don’t worry, do your best, you’ll get better.’ ‘[O]ught’ has nothing to do with it; if it was hard for me, then it was hard, that was all there was to it.”
—John Holt, Never Too Late
I don’t think I would have asked for a recorder for Christmas unless I had discovered John Holt last year (and watched the Transatlantic Sessions and read Charlotte Mason). I am not attempting anything as difficult as a cello (and I’m only half way to forty), but Holt’s book Never Too Late (and How Children Learn) was a huge encouragement to me. It helped me identify and counter in myself “the protective strategy of deliberate failure.”
It has been a lot easier to say that “I appreciate music, but I can’t play it,” than it has been to seriously try an instrument. My self-perception (euphemism for self-love) is too threatened by the prospect of struggle, confusion, failure, and embarrassment. These things are a great motivation to me—motivation not to get better, but to distance myself as soon as possible.* This often involves deeming the activity “not really worthwhile,” to help deflect fault from myself, because I can’t bear well under the disgust and even hate I pour on myself when I’m “not up to par.” That really needs to change.
*It’s a little more complicated than this, but I’ll just cut the Gordian knot. ;-)
I have the usual, lengthy list of new year’s resolutions, but near the top are:
•Learn how to play the recorder. (Finish the beginner’s book I have.)
•Take this opportunity to learn to accept my mistakes without trivializing the activity (in thought or speech) or “beating up”/ belittling myself (even in laughter) or throwing in the towel. (Mostly, I think, this means I need to maintain a healthy distance between “the mistake I just made” and “who I am.”)
I think it will be a lot easier to learn the recorder!
About which.... Finally, I am fairly proficient with “Mary Had a Little Lamb,” and have got to some interesting music; “Aleman” is my favorite, and “À la claire fontaine” is next on my list.
Incidentally, I didn’t realize how much saliva is involved with wind instruments. I would never play your recorder, or let you play mine. :-)
I really hate talking or writing about myself, but this blog post was rather therapeutic and clarifying for me. Thank you for “listening.” And look for more posts about new year’s resolutions, because that is my favorite part of the holiday season.
Photographs: A sneaky Next Sister took pictures of me as I struggled with “Mary Had a Little Lamb” on Christmas morning. My G’s always squeaked horribly! I am much better now... I must work on that posture, though.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012