Doing in Moderation
Our culture has a do-it-all-all-the-time mentality, and musicians embrace the high octane version. Of course there are reasons for this - low paying gigs that require us to find many jobs, doing lots of free or low-pay work to “get our name out there,” working odd hours to teach private lessons when students aren’t in school or to go to orchestra rehearsals, creating social media content to nab just a sliver of online attention…the list could truly go on and on.
Beyond the need to be in many places at once to make ends meet, there is the necessity of being seen and known to work as a musician. Your peers have to know that you are available, that you are capable, that you are consistent, and that you are a good colleague.
Being seen in real life is one thing, but when we added the internet to the mix things really got interesting. It used to be that a website was enough, then social media came along and kicked us permanently into high gear. For the first time it was possible to show everyone, everywhere that you possess all of the most desirable musician traits: capable, available, virtuosic, and of course, busy.
It’s no wonder musicians are collectively worn out and overwhelmed by a lack of time and the many potential forward paths of their careers.
Our occupational and cultural standards have long programmed us that this is normal, but we all know those few people who have brimming and interesting careers built on their uniqueness and talent that also seem to have time for their families, or to exercise and cook at home, or to simply relax. How are they doing it? And what are the rest of missing?
I’ll lead with honesty - I don’t really know. But, having recently reached a point in life where boundaries feel necessary and welcome after years of saying yes to Every. Single. Thing., it is something I’ve spent a lot of time considering. We’ve been trained and encouraged to give every moment we can, and although it’s hard to imagine changing that mentality while still doing the work that is undeniably necessary, I’m starting to believe that it’s possible.
One of the biggest roadblocks between a musician and balance is the reigning idea that we must give out every last ounce of knowledge and energy and beyond, or we simply can’t expect to have success in our careers
It’s partially true. The reality is that the beginning of our careers do take more of this time and energy expenditure. More time playing in all types of settings. More hours spent teaching every type of student. More effort nurturing all professional relationships, even if they may not lead to students, gigs, or employment. Being a musician, especially a B-List musician, means we must persevere through the early stages of showing people what we’re capable of and assuming that every new connection will lead somewhere. It will absolutely mean setting aside other aspects of our lives for a time.
Once we have done this work though, the trick is to not become stuck in the cycle of expenditure. We have to learn how to value the work we’ve done and the work we’ve earned while not needlessly running the well of energy, motivation, and creativity dry.
As a child, my grandmother used to often say “everything in moderation!” and although she wasn’t talking about building a life in music, she was really on to something.
It’s so natural to envy those who have reached a point of what appears to be better balance. Most of us are guilty of assuming that these musicians have “made it” and have achieved the unattainable dream. Or, we less generously assume that they are actually subpar musicians and should be judged for their lack of commitment and skill that lead to them being less busy. I think the more likely reality is that they’ve figured out how to implement moderation as their careers progress.
As I write, I’ve been through almost the first twenty years of my career, which is why I think I can sense the way toward moderation while acknowledging that I can’t picture prioritizing it from the get-go. Like most other musicians, I gave it all for almost three decades, including the years I was a student which we know is where this struggle with time begins. Hours practicing, family gatherings missed, turning down invitations, missing out on trips and concerts, working enough jobs to count on two hands to pay rent while also giving free clinics, makeup lessons that weren’t deserved, etc., etc.. If I had a free hour, I was filling it with some kind of work or staying home to practice or save money.
There was no semblance of a healthy relationship with time or moderation from the moment I decided on music. As much as I hate to say it, I still believe that was necessary, or at the very least that it worked in my favor. I certainly didn’t know a better way, and most of my teachers didn’t either. I needed those thousands of hours with my instrument to build the proficiency that a career requires. I needed to teach all those lessons to students that I knew would quit in a few weeks to become a better teacher and learn how to approach all types of students. Setting aside “fun” things also made an impact, both positive and negative. Knowing how much I still struggle with setting boundaries around work, I’m sure that there has to be a healthier way to approach this discipline. Music requires so much of our time and our souls, but it also thrives if we learn to live a rich life.
I’ve learned from observing the careers of others and the way they create or show up in professional situations that being a musician requires community, and building community takes an investment of our personal resources. But this idea that we need to give freely for a while, and then suddenly be willing and able to reclaim our time and personal lives is a paradox.
Once we’ve realized and acknowledged the necessity of doing more, the purposes it serves, and the ways it limits us, we can start to tackle the way we approach our relationship with time. Four Thousand Weeks by Oliver Burkeman is a fascinating look at how much time we have, what time really is, and how we came to think of it as a commodity, and ever since reading it I’ve started trying to shift my sense about what time really is. Maybe we need to establish a relationship with it, rather than wrangle it.
If we start thinking about managing activities and commitments, the things we are doing or would like to do, instead of hours and minutes, life becomes a whole new puzzle. From this fresh perspective, we can start to picture moderation and what it might look like. This can also apply to students and those at the beginning of their career, not just those of us who are on the other side of the initial sacrifice of time.
Some questions we could ask ourselves include: Am I spending my time on the things I need to? Are my necessities getting done? If not, where is that time being spent?
By reframing the task of evaluating our time this way, suddenly it’s no longer an issue of scarcity but rather one of taking care of both your needs and wants by assigning specific definitions to each.
Needs: Things that are necessary for optimum survival. Planning to be rested and fed, responsibilities caring for family or pets, activities necessary for the building of skills and connections, tasks that must be completed for work or school. Activities that make you feel whole, hobbies that help clear your mind. Needs should not be confused with fun, and many needs are decidedly the opposite of fun.
Wants: Things we would like to be able to do. Being available for every student, skipping practice or work to spend time with friends, avoiding tedious responsibilities so as to not feel stressed, superfluous needs that are fun but not necessary.
What needs done? As an example, for me right now it’s buying groceries, a plan for meals for the week, laundry, plant/pet care, planning for teaching, and practicing. Time for sleep, moving and meditating, connecting with my husband, and reading. These aren’t all baseline survival needs, but they are the things I have carefully decided I need to feel satisfied, healthy, and equipped in my life.
For a student, what needs done will look very different. Learning is your job when you are in school. You have set aside the appropriate years to pursue something wholeheartedly, and it deserves your best efforts.
Once we have established what needs done, we can look at what we’re actually doing. For example, if I’m spending an average of three hours every two weeks giving makeup or extra lessons, that’s three hours that are not spent on something else like practice that is necessary for other parts of my work. If I am spending thirty minutes each morning reading emails and articles, that’s thirty minutes stolen away from movement and meditation. If I’m spending forty-five minutes watching Netflix each night and not finishing my homework…but you get the point.
We can look back at each day or week and find these pockets of time we have stolen from our “need” pile and given to things that seemed more urgent or that other people asked for. Sometimes it was a good choice, but often it’s time we wish we could have back.
Knowing where the time goes and where we want it to go is one thing, but implementing that knowledge is a new hurdle. How do we begin to break habits and protect our boundaries around the limited time we have?
I think it comes back to identifying what we must do. What we need. It’s also tracking and identifying how those needs change over time.
By naming the things that make my life balanced and fun as needs, I’m both naming their importance and addressing how selfish it sometimes feels to choose how to spend your time. We need clarity, though, and it comes with setting our activities and tasks apart from each other by identifying their importance to our work and to us, and by setting them apart from simple distractions or faffing.
The great challenge of managing doing remains that we spend so many years doing so much to the point where we begin to choose and exercise discernment around our time we can end up feeling so guilty it’s paralyzing. It helps to think of moderation and to clearly label what value and necessity activities hold.
Even when I am choosing to spend my time wisely, based on what I have determined is necessary, there can be that slimy feeling of self-centeredness or getting away with something when I find that I am saying no by choice or that I have made the time for the things that bring me joy like practicing the flute and yoga.
In my own exploration of time, the tipping point of understanding that I no longer need to fill each empty hour and the guilt of being a “bad” musician who is not mindbendingly busy has been the hardest. The responsibility of getting work done can become trickier when you’re not forced to cram it into your only free half hour of a day.
I have a harder time saying no to others than to myself, and I have to prioritize the truth that being a good musician requires self-maintenance and skill maintenance. I’m still learning to implement moderation, but I know there is a more thoughtful way forward than how I handled the first few chapters of my musical life. It requires us to be mindful, to discuss the balance of life and work, to practice moderation, and to be a better example to our students. As for how those unicorn musicians freely choosing what to is included in their days, I’d still love to know their secrets.