Stravinsky's Wisdom

There are some quotes that return again and again like a perfectly appropriate refrain for many different experiences.  I have mentioned before the value I find in Stravinsky's words, "The more constraints one imposes, the more one frees one's self."  The key, of course, is determining where those constraints come from.  External controls are a bit more difficult to embrace as desirable, but deciding for oneself where to create boundaries for a project helps define, focus, and inspire.

Q&A with August Bradley

My Dark Little Room by August Bradley

What I am finding with my current project, however, is that I sometimes fail to distinguish between what I want to create and what I must create.  I wind up thinking things like, If I compose a piece for an ensemble of this size, it will be a challenge to ever get it performed... I should go with something smaller.  That isn't really all that inspiring a decision, to be honest.  It's much more inspiring to consider what the perfect set of instruments would be for a particular piece.  It might be a full orchestra, or it might be just a quartet or trio.  That kind of constraint, being very specific about what is desirable, is what most easily opens the door to freedom.  It requires focusing on what I want rather than misconceptions about what must be done.

While that may not seem like a constraint, it does eliminate possibilities.  Once I consider that the perfect ensemble for a piece is a woodwind trio, I have no reason to consider how a violin or trombone could add to the sound.  I am free to focus on the instruments I have chosen as most desirable options, and I can go on to make further constraints about the piece based on the music and what I see as its ideal incarnation.  It becomes a matter of composing passionately rather than composing "correctly".


My own thoughts get in the way sometimes, though.  I can't start off this quietly and slowly; a piece has to grab the audience right off the bat.   Nevermind that thousands of very effective pieces start quietly and slowly, including a couple I've composed.  I can't repeat that entire section of the music; that's lazy and uninteresting.  Nevermind that repetition is an incredibly important and commonly used element of musical form that can have a musical purpose.  I have to add more complexity to this music; no one wants to listen to a piece that's too simple.  Nevermind that there have been musicians in every age who gained fame from simple pieces because so many people listen to them, or that some of the most memorable and well-loved works of music are just simple, well-written pieces that communicate something of value with compelling aestheticism.   Why in the world would I want to set up such frustrating constraints when the music itself suggests a different direction?  That doesn't create freedom.

So, as I conceive this piece, I am conscious of the kinds of constraints I am using.  I want nothing to do with the voice that claims to know how things must be, especially if those ideas lead me away from the direction of inspiration.  I want to create constraints that are based on my vision for the piece.  Freedom emerges when I am willing to set aside all of the conceptions about how the music must be and define its boundaries by what I want the piece to be.  It may take on its own twists and directions as I compose, but I will be more aware of them and better able to let the music "breathe" within well-defined boundaries.  If only the rest of life were as simple as setting aside the beliefs about what must be and focusing on what is possible.  If only. 

Death of the Lone Ranger

Asking for help has not always been my practice. Perhaps I viewed it as a show of weakness or that I would be bothering someone else. Or maybe I just thought that if I wanted something done right, I'd have to do it myself. I wasn't isolationist about it. I would certainly ask people for small things. Things that didn't require too much of their time or energy. Even the Lone Ranger had Tonto, right?

Now I am looking at my time and what I want to accomplish. I am recognizing the realistic limits of what I can do with the number of hours in a day, and I am seeing the shortfall. At the same time, I am in many ways content with my life. My job is no more challenging than I choose to make it, which is both a blessing and a curse. Although the schedule requires that I work when most of my friends and family actually have time to spend together, the schedule is also flexible in many ways. I am grateful that the steady pay is covering my bills at this time, and the compensation is a fair reflection of my experience and skills. And yet, I eventually want to have more time to compose and to focus on the publication and distribution of my music. I want to have more geographic flexibility and I want to be able to spend more time connecting with my wife and friends.

I know of several options. I could still try to do everything myself. In the past, that had led to me being driven and not taking care of myself. What I really want is to enjoy my life while I am stretching to the fullness of my capability. I could let go of some of my goals. This is the most tempting one many days. And yet, the intention behind that vision wells up from my truest self. I have chosen to limit myself for so long, and my recent stretching into the fullness of what I can do has been truly satisfying. And I haven't found my personal limits yet, even as I press against the practical reality of my current circumstances.

So, I am deciding to ask for help. I don't know what that assistance looks like just yet, but I know that I don't have to do everything myself. My vision has room for partnership. In fact, it is enhanced by it. I am passionate and skilled in many areas, but I really don't like the publicity side of things. I know that there are people who do, however. So, I am willing (and a bit determined) to partner with someone with a complimentary skill set rather than only do what I can accomplish by myself. And I'll see what possibilities are created.

Redefining the Safe Zone

So, I have made a commitment to myself to intentionally stretch to test the limits of my capabilities rather than just playing it safe and sticking with what comes easily. The weird thing is that I'm starting to realize that if something is within the limits of my capabilities, it really isn't all that risky. Circumstances outside my control may impact the success of my efforts, but if I am acting within my abilities, I don't really have a valid reason for lacking confidence. What I recognize is that I'm actually redefining the boundaries of my "safe zone" in this process. I'm not entirely sure what could have convinced me to draw those limits with such constraint, but expanding what I am willing to acknowledge about myself is quite a bit of fun.

The Outer Limits

No, not the predictable "Twilight Zone in outer space" TV show. I'm thinking of my personal limits. For the past few months, I've been striving to stretch and reach beyond the artificial limitations I once put on myself. This is fun, challenging, and rewarding. I keep learning that I can accomplish more and have a greater impact when I am living to my fullest and not sticking to the shadows. But I wasn't entirely prepared for life to bring me an experience that reminds me that I still have limits.

I acknowledge that I hold my own pretty well with people. I am often able to connect with people who are choosing to be a bit aggressive about their opinions, or even belligerent in their demeanor. I recognize that what they are expressing is about them, not me, and it's like water off a duck. I do this often enough that I'm used to being able to do so. When someone comes along that is behaving way beyond what I typically encounter, my instant belief is that I can deal with this person the same way I do everyone else... that I can still connect with this person and hold my own ground without much of an emotional cost.

The problem is that I have real limitations about how much toxicity my emotional kidneys can process. My "I can do this," becomes "I should be able to do this," and I wind up persisting in a conversation longer than what is healthy. My mind tells me that if I disengage then I am admitting failure in some weird way. And yet if I allow myself to be negatively impacted by someone else's words or behavior, I have somehow "lost."

But stretching to the fullest extent of my own personal limits doesn't imply that I have no limitations. I may be in the habit of not reaching for the absolute border of my capabilities, but that doesn't mean that I can do anything. I do have limits. I don't have to engage everyone I encounter completely in order to be an engaging person. And I can accept the reality of who some people are without enjoying my experience of their presence. I can even choose not to be around a person whose behavior is consistently toxic. It's one way of caring for myself.

Then it hits me... This is what being at the edge feels like. When I'm pushing against something in life and it's pushing back at me, I learn something about myself, reality, and Truth. When I hide out in the safe zone, far from approaching the edge my personal reach, there's no challenge. I don't get to learn anything. And the edge is where my passion is.