It’s hard because it’s hard, and that’s okay

I just finished a week of playing Dvorak’s New World Symphony.

As an English horn player, “New World” is our bread and butter. It’s one of the first solos we learn in the rep. It’s not hard rhythmically or technically. It’s a sweet, simple, beautiful melody. I’ve played it forever; I’ve performed it multiple times; I love it. And yet - I was nervous.

At the outset, I think - New World - no big deal! I know this one! And then, as I’m preparing for rehearsals, there’s a slight - Oh crap! My intonation sucks and why is that Ab so squirrelly? When the first rehearsal comes, it feels good! Oh yeah, I know this. As the week stretches on, my reeds get a little thinner, my ear gets pickier, my intention to be present in my body the whole time is in direct opposition of my brain demanding control of the conversation.

Here’s my brain spinning out zingers left and right:

It’s a simple tune. Just play a pretty melody and don’t try so hard. Why are you making it so hard? You should have practiced more. You’re out of shape. You can’t play in tune. Your family and friends are coming. What if you sound awful in front of them? Why are you worried that people who love you are coming to hear you? You want them here! Why is it feeling like pressure? Why can I feel good in a rehearsal but still get tight and nervous in the concert? I teach people how to do this! Why am I still tight? This shouldn’t be hard! Why is this hard? What is wrong with me?

So, before the solo, during the second concert, I let my brain repeat Alexander’s directions - just to give it something to do.

I allow my neck to be free

So that my head may release up

So that my whole back can lengthen and widen

So that my knees can free forward and away

And my heels can free down and back

I didn’t try to make myself do anything, just allowed the suggestions to be there and for my body to respond as it could.

I started the solo.

The first note felt funny.

I couldn’t tell if it was in tune or fuzzy or what. But I stayed with the phrase as best as I could. The next entrance felt better, I was able to feel the resonance in my body and notice the inflection and emotion of the melody.

After the concert, I was insecure. I wasn’t sure how I sounded - if it was in tune - if it was tight or shaky. I was caught between loving being a musician and getting to play beautiful music and disappointment in myself over “getting in my head.”

I was fighting against allowing it to be hard. 

You know what? It’s hard because it’s hard. I didn’t stop to think about the energy I was putting into my narrative that it shouldn’t be hard; that I shouldn’t be nervous; that I should be over this stuff already. Next time, I wonder what would happen if I allowed it to be hard without all the judgment and railing against how I should be reacting to it. 

It’s hard because it’s hard. And that’s okay.