Manifesto.

This is a pretty selfish post, people. I'm writing it so that I can come back and read it when I question why I'm in the whole music business thing. But hopefully it will also help some of you along your journey of lost and again rekindled passions..

Those goosebumps that you get when the sopranos nail a sustained high A flat above the choir- that's why music is important. The look you share with someone great when the orchestra swells and fades again in your headphones- that's why music is invaluable. That surge of emotion that has nothing to do with how your day is going but everything to do with the word painting in a Lauridsen piece- that's why music is essential.

I'm no professor; I don't even have my bachelor's yet, but I can tell you this: there's something astounding at work when sound waves mesh and blend together at pre-determined frequencies. Heck, I can't tell you what exactly that something is, but I can surely say that human beings are inherently predisposed to its effects. Why else would music be everywhere- and I mean absolutely everywhere- in our cars when we're driving, in the locker rooms before a football game, our ringtones,... unless it was important to us as a society?

And why is it important to us? I'm not sure about you, but for me listening to (good) music provides confirmation that there are bigger things out there than myself and my immediate environment- that other people have felt the same things we have. And that makes me feel way cool, because we all innately want to feel connected to people and our world, right? We want to feel like we belong, and music is one of the greatest amalgamators there is. I think lots of people feel this way about music too, therefore the whole societal significance thing.

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So I've talked about listening to music, which is all good and fine, but I could listen to my heart's content without spending 18 hours a day in the music building. Creating music is a whole 'nother level, man. It intensifies that sense of belonging, not to mention the feeling of accomplishment we musicians get when we help other people feel the way I've been discussing. It gets tough, of course, because in order to be a true musician, you have to practice, study, and be dedicated enough to keep going.

Oh! And here's yet another musical echelon- the path I'm traveling and endlessly excited about- teaching music. I mean wow. Do I really need to say more about how awesome it is (or will be, in my case) to pass on that capacity to feel something greater, something albeit unexplainable but nonetheless absolutely powerful?

Like I said, it gets difficult to stay enthusiastic sometimes. It's all too easy to undervalue the things that we're exposed to on a constant basis. It's also very discouraging when a piece or technical aspect isn't coming along as quickly as it would if we had it our way. Yes, it's important to work on these things, because how else can we learn to make better music? But it's also imperative to keep a wider perspective and to remember things like that collective sigh in the audience at the end of a particularly poignant piece. Because when I think about it- really mull it over- there's no nobler calling than music, because there's nothing more important than other people.

Quit trying so hard.

I'm sitting here listening to live jazz, thinking about something my friend the drummer said not too long ago.

We're constantly making choices. It's simply unavoidable. Just as an improv solo is up to the soloist, our lives are up to us. There are chord changes to follow if you so choose, but you have free will. You have the potential and ability to make it awesome or a complete suck-fest.

That said, what if we do screw up? And what if we decide to go for a note or rhythm we thought would sound cool and it ends up only hurting eardrums?

Well.

We want to brood about it and beat ourselves up and be upset that we made such a dumb mistake- "how did I ever think an F# would fit in an E Phrygian scale (thank you jazz improv 1)?" What we tend to not do is think about that mistake, forgive ourselves for it, and not make the same mistake again. I mean in the big scope of things ("perspective, Jess!", as my friend the drummer would say) what does it matter if we fail a class, or end a relationship that in all sadness and honesty just isn't going anywhere (not that ending it's a mistake, but it can sure seem like it at the time), or don't practice that extra hour and therefore don't have a piece memorized on time? Sure we'll have to pay the consequences, deal with the repercussions, but as weird as it sounds those can be beautifully liberating things. And the freedom to make a mistake is in no way an excuse, quite the opposite. We have the power to make not so good choices, and we also have the brains to learn from them. That's what's important.

I like the quote by someone I can't remember, "God is perfect, I don't have to be." I guess what I'm trying to say here is that stinking up a jazz solo doesn't mean that every solo from then on out will be horrendous as well. We're free in Christ, people, and that includes being free to forgive ourselves.

Easier said than done, I know. You can do it.