With phrases slung around like ‘music must be your blood!’ and ‘she was born with her instrument in her hands’ and ‘she would be so lost without her music!’ rife in conversations about musicianship, let me share a truth of mine with you:
Possessing a flute career is not the centre of my world and it’s not the most important thing to me.
Allow me to explain how I came to this conclusion.
-I ran and did yoga because I read in some flute magazine that it would make my playing more ‘well-rounded’ and ‘musically wholesome’. Because it might help me to have better breath control for my phrasing.
-I made many romantic and friendship choices based solely on how it might ‘fit’ (or not) around my musical career.
-I spent much of my extra cash on acquiring flute ‘goods’. I am talking about flute CD’s- studying with flute gurus- finding the best flute workshops to attend- ordering the latest flute exercise books- researching the best tuner- the best flute cleaning rod (Oh, I could go on…but I won’t).
-I tended to reject new hobbies I was genuinely curious about because ‘it would probably take too much focus away from my practice’.
-Most ‘free’ time I had went to preparing for competitions and orchestral auditions to try to grab at any job opening to add another ‘win’ to my CV (along with hundreds of other flautists who also had the same vision).
You see, I was determined.
But that’s not it. Oh, no.
Those externals were coupled with some really nasty internals that plagued my everyday:
-An unsettled ‘not good enough’ feeling that was always present.
-Constantly reaching, reaching, reaching (clawing, in fact) to get somewhere ‘better’.
-Playing the ego game because of a ‘that’s how you get ahead to make it in this field’ type of mindset.
-Comparing myself to others– constantly.
Oh, and the worst?
I was carelessly inauthentic with my musicality, trying to copy what ‘the big boys’ did so I could ‘play it the right way’.
After a good decade of that toxic concoction, well, my soul had enough. I was burnt out to a crisp. My inner fire was damp, my creativity dry. I wanted to throw in the towel and switch professions.
So while the new career training brochures that I’d ordered started trickling through my letterbox, I stopped. Playing. Practicing Auditioning. Achieving. Trying. All of it.
This isn’t a quick cure story I offer you. My ah ha! moment where the flute walked across my soul once again didn’t come in a lightning bolt moment. Nor was the process neatly packaged; mine took a while. (Actually I don’t think these type of revelations are ever finished over a lifetime, but I digress.)
So what did happen? My soul and spirit was face down in the dirt while I wallowed around digging for my own answers. My flute sat untouched in its case except for teaching flute lessons (I had to eat somehow, right?).
The upside of it? S- P -A- C- E.
One afternoon while still feeling my Big Fat Flute Career Failure, I was watching the Irish lambs frolic in the field next door (because I had time for it now, you see). This is when I had sum’ enlightenment that was part of the bigger puzzle (and where I am going with all this).
“Greatness is measured by your gifts, not your possessions.”
‘Dah-ding!’ This divinely sent tea wisdom suddenly seemed very relevant to my mope.
My focus in the past about my flute playing was about ‘possession’. Possession of a flute career. Gadgets. A ‘good’ flute job. Awards. Validation. An audience. The next ‘big gig’ lined up.
And even worse? It was about possessing a musical identity that was not my truth– and I made this identity the centre of my striving, my BEING.
In other words? The fluting and my career related to it that I did was mostly about me—wait… probably all about me.
I was trying to live someone else’s dream career. But yet I didn’t really know what mine was.
Further enlightenment didn’t’ come from a guru, a trip to Italy, Oprah Magazine, or a Vipasna meditation retreat.
No. It came from hundreds of moments being face down in the manure of my ‘whys’, desperate to find a way to crawl back to the flute on my own terms.
How? By digging through the piles of musical dung I had accumulated by examining Every. Musical. Belief. I. Held. True. By shedding – and shedding– and shedding that old ‘successful musician’ identity. Not once. Not twice. Not even five times. But over and over again—daily. By peeling away layers of accumulated ‘should bes’ to get really honest with who I am.
This isn’t going to end with a perfectly wrapped Hallmark story-line conclusion. Life doesn’t refine our edges so neatly like that.
But I do know this:
Sure, I used to ‘show up’ and follow all the right ‘career rules’. I had always persevered to ‘make it happen’ as a flautist. But I did so for unauthentic, false reasons. I was burnt out because I never got real with myself about the ‘why’ I was doing what I was doing.
Fast-forward to now, the Jessica that sits here at her little antique pine desk typing this especially for your fine eyes:
-My version of a successful flute career is now measured by the musical gifts I give. The ones that are raw. The ones that aren’t perfect.
-This breed of career doesn’t have to happen in an orchestra job. It doesn’t happen from attending the Best Flute Workshop Ever Given On This Planet, or possessing the latest titanium-alloy-fancy-pants head-joint.
-The gifts I want to give don’t have room for any big ego to accompany me. They might be the ones I give for free on a nondescript Monday afternoon. The gifts I desire to really give might be delivered in the most un-glamorous of venues (read: an adult care home where one audience member is shouting they have to use the rest-room; another demands to hear ‘Danny Boy’; fluorescent lights buzz above).
–I insist that a successful (music) career is about a soulful connection with others. I know when I’ve been successful at mine because I allowed myself to be vulnerable and openly raw when playing– but also in teaching, blogging, researching. The lot. Even if it is just with one person. That’s enough for me.
Sometimes I still fail at it.
Ultimately though? I’d have the same career goals about giving to others if I played the trombone, trained dogs, painted watercolour landscapes, or was a pastry chef.
So, you see, it’s not even about being a flute player per se. It just so happens that the flute is my tool at the moment.
I am no longer satisfied with ‘possessing’ a flute career ever again. Ever.
What I give to through my art is my focus– that’s why ‘UN-possessing’ any sort of flute career is what I am all about these days.
Do you know someone who’s a burnt out musician? Someone stuck in a rut? A soul who’s lost their zesty sparkle + fizz? Share this piece to let them know they are not (+ will never be) alone. Be someone’s little miracle worker today.