Recital Redux

I had a good day Sunday. It marked recital number two, and it thankfully couldn't have gone better. I really feel that Sunday, April 9, 2006 marks a turning point in my career. I say that with no exaggeration whatsoever. It's the first time I've enjoyed performing a solo in years, perhaps since I was in high school, and that's coming up on 20 years.

I should qualify that statement. It's the first time I could say I enjoyed playing a solo, while I was playing it. There have been plenty of times after playing a solo where I would say to myself, "I'm glad I did that," or "I can say it was fun, now that it's over." But Sunday, it was fun, while I was doing it. That's HUGE, and I'm immensely grateful.

It's been a three year journey of retraining my mind, and I feel that on this past Sunday, it was the culmination of all of that thought, and all of that energy, and it was incredibly exhilirating. I played the first piece, and it went really well. I was pumped! What was very interesting, is that at first I found it uncomfortable to feel so good about a performance. As I was sitting in the "green room" after playing the piece, I found myself thinking that I wasn't supposed to feel this way about a performance. It wasn't "natural," or "normal" to feel good about how I had played. It was a disconcerting feeling, since it's not how I am accustomed to thinking. There was a moment of strange discomfort, or disappointment, that I didn't feel my normal self. Odd, isn't it? I've read that gamblers feel more elated when they lose, because it means they can get to play again--for them, it's the thrill of defeat which is actually the addictive component, because with every defeat, there's hope of future victory. But when that victory comes, it always lets them down. I see some vague corollary to my experience, though in a very oblique sense. The analogy isn't quite accurate, but my initial response I think is similarily bizarre. I haven't figured that out yet, but the good news is that I got over that disconcerting/disappointing feeling in very short order!

I succeeded on Sunday, and I'm proud of that. Simply making that statement is a big deal. My entire life, I've thought that I needed to be humble over all other considerations. Unfortunately, for a long time, that concern for humility resulted in an untrue representation of myself, to others, as well as to myself. A perfect example is when I won my current job. I was still in grad school at the time, and a lot of people came up to me to congratulate me. I poo-pooed the congratulations from everyone, downplaying the job, talking about how it was really just a good stepping stone, etc. A friend of mine pulled me aside and asked me, point blank, "Dan, why are you apologizing for winning that job?" It was like a bolt of lightning hit me, and I was suddenly aware of the truth: I was downplaying and diminishing the importance of what really amounted to a major success, simply out of a concern for being humble.

Now, humility is certainly a good trait. But honesty, and a commitment to the truth should always be the fundamental character trait that anyone lives by. My dad has quoted to me often over the years the phrase of Paul: with humility, have self esteem. My interpretation of that over the years was always primarily focused on being humble. But, if I am concerned first and foremost with objective truth, the honest truth is that on Sunday, I nailed it, and I played my heart out, I gave it my all, and I played really, really well. I feel I could have played anywhere in the world like I did on Sunday and have not been embarrassed at all. I suppose that sounds arrogant. I cringe when I type it, but it's the TRUTH. The director of the school of music where I teach, and who came to that recital, told the colleague that I shared the recital with that we played "like gods," and my colleague told me that hearing my performance was the best recital performance he's ever heard on my instrument. I suppose this could be construed as bragging, but for me, this is the truth I need to have tattooed on my brain, that needs to be emblazoned across my mind to counter all the swarming negative thoughts that have plagued me for years. I AM a great musician, and I need to believe that, and act accordingly. This post is something I know I will come back to in moments of doubt, so I am writing all of this as a testament to the truth, the truth that I will use as the best defense against those negative lies which undoubtedly will assail me again.

I look forward to the future. I look forward to doing more recitals, and more performances. I want to do several a year, and continue to grow as a musician, and to grow in confidence. The more I can do that, then I can begin to think outwardly, as Don Greene is fond of saying. I've been inwardly thinking for so long when I perform, thinking about every chipped note, every nicked attack--now, I will be committed to thinking only about the music, and sharing it with others, and give to the audience all that I have. That's what I want to do, and now, I can look forward to doing that with excitement and anticipation, not fear and dread.

Sunday was indeed a good day.