Perhaps the most efficient form of musical development would be one where love of craft and desire for excellence were the only forms of motivation. In such a pursuit, a childlike zeal, driven by an appreciation of music in and of itself, would declutter the process of achieving meaningful development. Alas, such are rarely the conditions that motivate a passionate musician. The creative condition necessitates a self-awareness by which achievement is critically delineated, and progress is harshly defined. Thus, floodgates are opened to a deluge of self-criticism, judgment, and sense of inadequacy.

The heightened ego that so stereotypically characterizes the artist archetype is an insecure reaction to these negative self-perpetuated beliefs. The middle-aged musician who barely scrapes by on bar and coffee shop gigs, and who resents the world for not validating their art, is not entirely unjustified in their reactionary indulgence of ego. The struggle of existing in a passionate and deeply self-aware consciousness is real, not to mention the limited scope to which social structure carves out an economically viable place for artists. Perhaps if such a character identified with their art (and indeed their struggle) to a lesser extent, their proclivity for resentment and egotism would be diminished. However, our personal identification with our music is not unreasonable. We become dearly attached to our music as a result of the money, time, and cognitive attention we invest. Even the average hobbyist often invests thousands of dollars and thousands of hours throughout their musical journey. Imagine if we invested similarly in a friend. Developing an intense identification with such a friendship would be no surprise and would likely manifest an equally complicated relationship as the one so many of us have with our instruments.

While these factors explain our toxic relationships with music and the commonly resulting ego defense, I do not believe they entirely justify them. The science and the social movements of recent years have brought with them both a heightened understanding of our psychology and a deepened knowledge of effective skill development strategies. As passionate musicians and stewards of our own mental health, I believe it is our responsibility to use the enumerable tools available to enhance both our own experience of development and the culture to which we contribute. For these reasons, I have increasingly encouraged students (and indeed myself) to bring mindfulness practice into their music.

While we may never be able to bring that elusive childlike excitement to every part of our musical process, mindfulness can help us harness it more often, contributing to a healthier and more fulfilling experience. For example, the awareness that our complicated relationship with music is more so the result of its experiential context than our personal ability or worth may act in itself as a powerful decluttering tool. Furthermore, the mindful acknowledgment that attempted control of the past or future is futile can only serve to benefit our capacity in the present. It is only when we are dissatisfied by our rate of progress or by how we compare to an idealized version of ourselves that we cultivate counterproductive mechanisms of judgment or ego indulgence. Just as control of a past or future version of oneself is fruitless, so too is attempted control of the pleasure or pain that is in inherent to the process of development. Though we may listen to music because it’s pleasurable, we participate in music because it is meaningful. And, as is the case for any developmental journey, success is only given credence through struggle (and vice versa). Radical acceptance of this foundational truth, like awareness for the present, can only serve to reduce friction in the growth process.

In his discussion of human reaction to pain and attachment to pleasure, philosophical interpreter Alan Watts surmised this well: 

“For the greater part of human activity is designed to make permanent those experiences and joys which are only lovable because they are changing. Music is a delight because of its rhythm and flow. Yet the moment you arrest the flow and prolong a note or chord beyond its time, the rhythm is destroyed. Because life is likewise a flowing process, change and death are its necessary parts. To work for their exclusion is to work against life.”