Finding Focus

At a recent recital, I was playing piano for several high school musicians. We had rehearsed together a few times, and I felt confident going into the performance. Then little details started whittling away at that confidence. The piano was arranged in such a way that I could not see the performers well, so I missed some opportunities to coordinate. The room was cold, and the resulting stiffness in my fingers reduced my dexterity. I hadn’t had a chance to practice in that space, so my ears were not accustomed to the reverb…

It looks like a list of excuses from where I am sitting, and perhaps that what it ultimately is. But my performance that day was not what I would have liked it to be. I am convinced that the real reason is simply that I don’t practice as much as I used to. Without frequent practice, the muscles and the mind lose a bit of capability, and I no longer spend the 4–6 hours practicing every day that I once did. If I were to focus my career on being a pianist, I would need to make some adjustments.

Instead, I have concluded that having money is the result of helping other people. I want to find ways to engage my passions in helping other people, and I want to create ways for that to be an income stream, so I am not sacrificing my own well being for the sake of my passions. In fact, that kind of sacrifice is the stuff of martyrs, and I’m not submitting any more applications for that position. But not every opportunity to help others is equally satisfying or equally compensated. As much as I have enjoyed playing the piano and the connections with young musicians, accompanying middle- and high-school musicians frankly doesn’t pay well enough for a person to make that their entire source of revenue.

So I am faced with a challenge of focus. As I began exploring what I wanted my life to be, I realized that I had been playing small for a long time. My first goal was to spend more time creating music and seeking opportunities for it to be heard. Pursuing that goal initially resulted in some short term jobs to meet immediate financial needs, and in less than six months, I now have an exclusive publishing contract for one of my pieces, which can be a stepping stone toward long-range success as a composer.

There have been other things occupying my attention, however. I became an independent contractor in a wellness business in order to develop residual income which would allow me to take full advantage of the freedom of time and location I had gained. As a result, I have been learning and honing some entrepreneurial skills I never saw a use for in previous positions. It has definitely ramped up my personal development, and the skills I am learning are transferable to every other area of my life. Although I haven't yet replaced my old salary, if I were to truly focus on developing this business, I can see the potential to do so in a short period of time from where I stand.

And yet, I still have a passion to help others deepen their purpose and build a strategic vision for their own goals. Although my wellness business can offer this in a very focused way, some people aren't looking for an entrepreneurial opportunity. They want to engage their passions differently, create something bigger than what they thought possible, or just find greater meaning in what they are currently doing. Helping people find purpose and create a vision energizes me and fuels my own creativity. So I am creating Envisionability, a newsletter about purpose, vision, and creative solutions. I see how this can help other people, serve my own personal growth, and ultimately serve as another revenue stream so that I can keep spending my time helping people, composing, and simply enjoying life.

My challenge now is focus. Do I focus on the thing that I most want to do, or the thing that can bring the most financial freedom? Do I split my focus on three different endeavors, recognizing that they all provide some transferable skills and learning? How will that impact my ability to accomplish my goals in each of those arenas? Will other people see how the different elements of my path are linked, or will they judge me as lacking credibility or clarity? Or is my focus actually on something other than the activities of my journey?

Best Worst Accompanying Job

When I first got the call, my instinct was to say "No." A high school band director had gotten my information from another local instructor as an accompanist who could collaborate well with students playing challenging pieces, and I was grateful for the word-of-mouth advertising. But he was calling with one week's notice to ask if I could play for an event which conflicted with another commitment. And during the conversation he said, "We run into this problem every year." That told me that he hadn't adjusted his preparation model to get an accompanist further in advance, even though it had caused him difficulty to wait until the eleventh hour in the past. Given my schedule, I just didn't know how I could possibly rehearse with his students twice before the event (which is my standard practice), so I politely declined.

I hate to turn down work, especially work that I enjoy doing, but there were so many reasons that this offer seemed like a bad idea, I felt relieved when I ended the call without adding something to my calendar. Then, he called back. It had been a couple of hours, and I was certainly caught off guard. He told me that they had changed the times of the event and asked if I was able to fit it in more easily. After talking for a few minutes, I agreed to take the job, and he said he would email all the info I needed to pick up the music and schedule rehearsals.

There was so much about the offer that I didn't like. He didn't seem organized. The event was only a week away, and his description of some of the pieces suggested that I would prefer a few weeks to work on them rather than a few days. My schedule was already packed with other accompanying jobs, and I honestly didn't believe that I would be able to provide the quality and quantity of time I typically give students. And to top it off I simply didn't find it easy to trust the director, even though I had only spoken with him for a total of 15-20 minutes. Somehow, I expected that the circumstances would be different from other schools with which I was working.

That same week, I had agreed to almost exactly the same time frame at another school. I was already playing piano for about a dozen advanced students at the high school. The director called me early on a Monday morning, exactly one week before their event, and told me that one of their accompanists was ill and they needed to find a replacement. She told me that I was the first person she called because she recognized that I was one of the most skilled accompanists on their roster, and she asked if I would be willing to take on another ten students. When I arrived at the school later that day, she had all of the additional music together, she had the schedules of all of the students, she introduced me to them and told them about the change of plan, and she reassured them that everything would be fine with their original accompanist. As I worked with the students, she was constantly on hand to help coordinate the rehearsal schedule. What could have been a chaotic and stressful arrangement was instead smooth and enjoyable because she was so on top of things. I was very happy that I had agreed to take on a little more, even with only one week to put it all together.

For some reason, I wasn't expecting the same treatment from the director on the phone. I watched for his email, trusting that I would be able to make everything work with my time and it would be another opportunity to build my reputation. But over the next few days, the email didn't arrive, and it was late in the evening on Sunday when I received his call. His event was now four days away, and he was calling to let me know that he would have music gathered together for me by Tuesday morning. I explained to him my concerns about how little time remained before the event, and I told him that I would likely not be able to rehearse twice with each student at that point. That seemed fine, and we worked out a schedule of when I would be on hand during school hours for the students to rehearse, and when I hung up, I had a bit of a sinking feeling about the whole affair.

On Thursday, I was angry. This was hands down the worst accompanying job I had ever accepted. They didn't actually have all of the piano music, so they had to rush order it. Some of the students had never even played through their entire solo before I met with them, and others were playing pieces that required considerable coordination between pianist and soloist that simply wasn't likely to develop in a single rehearsal. The manner in which the director spoke to the students conveyed a lack of respect, and he had certainly not set them up for success. He referred to me as "Mr. Parfait," even after I had corrected him, and he brought a challenging piece of music to me as the event was starting to ask if I could play it for another student I had not even met ahead of time. I heard from everyone involved that it was the same story every year, waiting until the last minute and scrambling to get accompanists and music together. To top it off, I had never been told with certainty what I would be paid for my efforts.

And then, when I sat down to play for the first student, I realized that I wasn't there to do the director a favor. As disorganized and disrespectful as the director had been, I was grateful for the opportunity to be a part of the students' journeys as musicians. I was reminded of what was true about me, my compassion, my skill, my passion for music and connection with other people, my ability to encourage and inspire. I would have loved to have more rehearsals with the students, and I could have played those piano parts more skillfully with a little more time. But I did my very best under the circumstances, and the students represented themselves well.

It wasn't difficult to let go of my anger about the situation when I got back to the real reason that I was there. Out of a desire for them to have the best program possible, I suggested some planning guidelines to the director and provided the names of a couple of area directors that held similar events so he could compare notes and they could learn from one another. I will probably think twice before I agree to another event with that particular director, and I have learned once again that I don't enjoy playing music as much when I have too little time to prepare it well. And yet, when I clearly recognize the real purpose behind my choices, I can be satisfied with how I handle circumstances and impact lives.

A Terrifying Acknowledgment

When I was teaching college courses a couple of years ago, students would occasionally ask how long they were required to wait if I wasn't around at the start of class. The policy (anecdotal at least) was that students should wait 15 minutes for a professor with a Master's degree and the entire class time for a doctor. Since I had earned my terminal degree, I advised them to wait for me unless I had officially canceled class. This policy seemed unfair to some of them, perhaps even like a sort of forced respect, but it never really came into play. I was almost always early to classes I was teaching.

In fact, I am almost always early to everything. I suppose I have thought of it as polite or even respectful not to make people wait for me. I certainly waited for a few professors in graduate school, but only on a rare instance did it seem to be an inordinate amount of time. With regard to my own classes, I considered it a matter of respect to the students to start on time. I wanted to cover a lot of material, and I wanted to take advantage of every moment I had to convey that material. But I wondered recently if my sense of self-worth hasn't at some point crept in to the practice of being early, or at the very least, on time. Was I really worth waiting for? Do I arrive early because I believe I may not be worth the wait in other people's eyes?

Saturday, I accompanied about 50 young musicians in a solo and ensemble contest. In the morning, I played for students from one school's band program, and in the afternoon, I was with students from a different school's orchestra program. Plans had been made in advance to ensure I would have about an hour to get lunch in between, and I had the schedules in hand a few days ahead of time. I rehearsed with each of the students twice over the previous two weeks, so we were well-prepared on that front as well.

The judges took a little more than the allotted time with each student, which is par for the course at these events. Many of the pieces selected by the students (or their teachers) were longer than the actual time slot, and the judges typically want to give some valuable verbal feedback to students in the moment. What I didn't expect was that we would be almost an hour behind schedule by lunch time. I had ten minutes to scarf something down and get to another part of the building where the orchestra students were being judged.

Except that the orchestra students weren't in another part of the building. They were at another facility entirely, about 15 minutes away. I learned this at precisely 1:00, when I was supposed to be accompanying the first student of the afternoon. A director offered to make a phone call to the other school as I rushed out to the car and spent 20 minutes in heavy traffic mentally deriding myself. I had simply assumed that both groups of students would be in the same place. I may have heard differently at some point, but I didn't have anything written down. Now, I was holding up an entire afternoon that had been carefully scheduled because of that assumption.

I arrived at the site where the orchestra students (and parents and judges) were waiting and parked as close as I could to the front door. As I rushed up to the door, I saw a sign that directed contest participants around to the side of the building. My mind was going crazy with criticism and my heart was pounding. All of the personnel for the contest and the families of every student I was accompanying were being inconvenienced by my error. By the time I found where I was supposed to be, I was easily half an hour late. I exchanged a few words of explanation with the orchestra teacher, and I went in with the first soloist of the afternoon. And that was it. They waited for me, and once I arrived, things got back in motion.

While I don't want to become less intentional about when I arrive or how I prepare for events, the whole experience has given me an opportunity to acknowledge the value that others place on my presence. I want to be more conscientious about the details for future events, especially if there is limited time between commitments. But I also want to appreciate the respect I receive from others. When it comes down to it, I waited on my professors because I valued what they had to say. If I didn't, I probably wouldn't have shown up to class in the first place. What I have to contribute has value, too. And I'm more likely to bring myself fully forward when I recognize that.

The Upward Spiral

There are plenty of people who claim that history repeats itself, in the large scale of societies and in the small scale of individual lives. Of course there is Shaw's claim that "If history repeats itself, and the unexpected always happens, how incapable must Man be of learning from experience." I'm thinking about this today because I am experiencing a bit of it. I make my commitments toward what I want to create in my life, and I somehow find myself facing in the opposite direction overcoming challenges that I thought I had already conquered.

I want to create. It is a passion of mine. Specifically, creating music is something for which I possess strong passion and capability. Creating music requires (among other things) time. It is not how I spend my time, however. I spend my time on the thing which currently brings me a paycheck. And yet, that "thing" is so nebulously defined in some ways that I have a great deal of flexibility in how my time is spent. So my commitment earlier this year was to shift away from spending my paycheck-related time on the mundane tasks that anyone can do and focus that time on the things for which I am more uniquely passionate and skilled.

And yet, those mundane tasks that anyone can conceivably do are still important. Not in an earth-shattering kind of important, but in a meeting basic week-to-week expectations kind of important. So, if I am spending less time on them, it means that someone else must be doing them. Obviously, for my commitment to line up with practical reality, my goals would be best served by finding other people to take on the more mundane but necessary tasks. A short-term expenditure of time to locate and train someone leading to a long-term benefit of gaining more time to create.

But somehow, there always seem to be mundane tasks that need doing. I find myself looking back at my week thinking, "How did I spend so much time and have so little satisfaction from it?" At first I thought, other people aren't willing to do the mundane but necessary tasks, so I'm stuck with them. That's not exactly true, though. I have found willing people, I just keep finding more things to do that don't engage my deepest passions. So I recommit to shifting how I allocate my time, only to find myself doing a different set of mundane (but necessary?) tasks.

Now, I am thinking, how frightened must I be of getting what I truly want? There will always be easy choices about spending my time on more-or-less insignificant tasks, but the most immediately obvious task isn't necessarily the one that will serve my long-range goals. In fact, the most obvious tasks are often the ones that will rob me of the opportunity to get a little closer to what I truly want.

The life I envision for myself is not to make the easiest choices, but to make the most fulfilling ones. I am now looking at this decision again from a slightly different angle. I'm faced with re-learning the lesson, but I have made progress. I recognize the challenge, but I am getting more masterful and more determined. My commitment matters a little more to me now than it did the first time I claimed it. So, here I go again.

Fragments

Today it was a harp plucking E-flat unison with a soft sustained flute as a viola slides down its fourth string in an eerie decrescendo over three slow beats. On beat four, a bass drum quietly bathes the room in its wide rumble. And I hear something metallic there as well, I don't know what.

While my time is currently scheduled in such a way that I do not have lengthy swaths to allow my creativity to be completely unleashed, I cannot keep ideas from drawing my interest. In the midst of an email or organizing my desk or driving I get snippets of sounds that persist in my head. The first thought is usually how much I like the sound, and the second thought is usually "Where have I heard that before?" Once in a while, I'll be able to place it in a film score or some classical piece I enjoyed at some point in the past, but I am often convinced that it is original. Mostly at least.

With just a hint of inspiration, I am able to see a wealth of possibilities. From one sound or musical idea, any number of paths can emerge. Where does it want to go? How does it want to evolve? And when will I take the time to bring it to life? That last one is a bit frustrating, but I can accept that I don't know the future.

The bottom line is that I write down what I can of the sound. It may be a particular melody, a timbre, a contour, a rhythm. I usually have staff paper close at hand, but sometimes it winds up on a napkin or an envelope. They will wait for me, and I will continue in my journey with a purposeful intention to find ways to allow my creativity to have my full and undivided attention. At least long enough to develop some of these compelling sounds into something complete, whatever that looks like.

As long as the sounds keep coming, I'll keep writing them down and watching for the chance. And each little inspiration gives me another reason to keep stepping forward.

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.

Shortcuts

I was taking a large ensemble piece I wrote a few years ago and creating a virtual recording of it. I haven't ever gotten a high-quality performance or recording of the work, but I am hopeful that I'll be able to get close with my virtual studio setup. The biggest problem I encountered was one of balance between the instruments. I had been trying to take a convenient shortcut in recording the piece, but it was costing me more time and frustration than I had anticipated.

After my experiences this past weekend, I was quick to see that I had plenty of time to do this project well. I'm not on a deadline, and I won't lose anything by taking the time necessary to create a finished product with which I am very satisfied. What is my interest in a shortcut all about? I'm passionate about I'm doing, I have enough time to spend on it, and I'm not a lazy person. Maybe it was about finding an efficient way to accomplish what I want, but my exploration led me into understanding the flaws with my plan. What I was attempting wasn't much of a shortcut in the end. But that's really just fine. Now I can take the time to do it well.

Plenty of Time

There are so many things I want to do in a day... so many things about which I am actually passionate. Sometimes I miss having days when there was literally nothing on my to-do list. But having an abundance of things on which I really love spending time and energy is very different from just staying busy. The former is an expression of life while the latter is numbing.

But I get a little frustrated at what I'm not doing with my time. Every day doesn't have enough moments to really dig into all of the things I want to be doing. No matter how I have spent my time, I look back at the day and think about what I didn't get to. Why does it elude me that I don't have to do everything today? Just because something waits until tomorrow doesn't mean that I have lost anything.

The truth is: if there is an abundance of things about which I am passionate, I will have choices about which valuable and meaningful things I'm going to focus on in any given moment. The truth is: I will never accomplish everything I want to do. There will always be things I just haven't gotten around to yet. Maybe there is a challenge for me in balancing all of the facets of my life in a satisfying way, but to have spent my day doing things I loved doing is a gift I often don't appreciate. And always having further to journey is what gives my life momentum.

The Power of Partnership

On my best days I can do a lot of different things well. When I am right on the edge of my capabilities, though, it only takes a little push to get me over the line. One little thing going differently than I expect or taking longer than I've planned and I'm overwhelmed and stressed. Of course, if I hang back in a comfortable, unchallenging space it's easier to make adjustments, but if I'm committed to being fully engaged I want to look for other solutions to feeling overwhelmed.

When I'm playing small, I spend my time and energy on things that don't really take advantage of my skills and expertise. Of course, the things I wind up doing are often still necessary on some level, but it's not necessary for me to do them. When I spend my time unwisely, not only do I limit what I am able to accomplish, but I also limit other people's opportunities to contribute and grow.

Whether I am at work or striving for personal goals, there are people in my life who truly appreciate the opportunity to be of service. Although they experience their own bit of being overwhelmed from time to time, I often find that people are more willing to partner with me than I anticipate. I guess it makes sense, though. I usually feel appreciated when someone seeks my involvement, especially if they're asking me to do something at which I excel.

It boils down to delegation. When I can delegate in ways that allow others to be successful and to develop their own abilities, people are often amazingly grateful. And the partnership allows me to focus my time and energy on the challenges and tasks that are best suited for me.