People occasionally ask if I practice what I preach here in the blog.  The answer is that, yes, I really do practice this way, and that my tips and suggestions are born of many years of experience and effort to find the most efficient and effective ways to learn music.

There is one exception, however:  taking breaks.

You may remember an article on What to do on Breaks in which I suggested that the only thing to do on breaks is nothing.  Of all the things I suggest on my blog, this is the one that I have had the most trouble actually implementing.  I manage it when I am really under a lot of time pressure, but when I am doing more routine daily practicing, I have found it almost impossible to resist the urge to read a magazine or check my email on breaks.

That is, until recently when I had a cool experience with this blog that has changed my approach.

Remember that game, Operator? (also known in some regions as Telephone?) You whisper something in your friend’s ear, and they whisper it to the next person, and at then end it has become gibberish.  It was sort of like that, only better.

A percussionist friend, Greg Jukes, recently mentioned to me that he has really enjoyed reading my blog.  I asked him if there was anything that he found particularly helpful, and he said, “That thing about taking breaks—where you set a timer for 5 minutes, lie on the floor and let your mind go blank.”

Now, that’s not quite what I suggested in my post about breaks.  I suggested just not doing anything. But Greg had heard it in his own way — just like in the game Operator– and added the timer and “let your mind go blank.”

At the time, I just nodded and smiled and accepted it as a compliment, but what I was thinking was, “Hmm, that sounds like a good idea.  Maybe I should try that!”

So, his re-transmission of my original message has made a huge difference in how I take breaks.  I tried Greg’s method, and it’s awesome!  Now I look forward to my breaks as a delightful vacation from the pressures of work. I set my timer for five minutes, and then pretend to take a nap, only I don’t fall asleep.*

Give it a try.  Allow yourself five minutes of blank time, and see if it helps keep your active practice time engaged and effective.

[Regular readers may think I have some fixation with time limits, but I find that using them is a singularly powerful tool for enabling the self-discipline necessary to practice effectively.]

*FYI:  Pretending to take a nap is actually an “official” meditation technique from Meditation Made Easy by Lorin Roche.

Credit where credit is due:  Phone photo is by aussiegall, timer photo is by pasukaru

Greg Jukes also has a cool ensemble:  The Fourth Wall

We don’t become musicians (and this applies to amateurs, beginners and professionals alike) because we want to stay at home and practice.  We become musicians because music is awesome, and playing it is a powerful tool for self-expression. When we play classical music, we  collaborate with the composer (yes, even the dead ones!), expressing our own inner understanding of the music to an audience. In doing so, we can reach a transcendent communicative state between ourselves, the music and its composer, and our audience. Seriously, people, it’s the best!

Practice is what makes that expression possible, and good practice brings our actual performance closer and closer to a true representation of that inner thing we want to express.  This is why we practice: to discover the content of the music and our connection to it and to make sure our playing communicates this to the audience, every time.

Now having said all that, can practicing be fun?  Can you like it?

Good practice isn’t just a question of doing everything in the most efficient (fastest!) way possible, so you can get on with the rest of your life already.  It is mindful, attentive, and ultimately, very interesting.  It offers you the chance to get to know the music and the instrument better, but also to get to know yourself on a very detailed and intimate level.  Admittedly, that might fall a bit short of fun, but that process of discovery will carry you through a lot of practice time over the years.

At its best, I find practicing to be meditative:  the focused repetition and exploration of small ideas, one at time.  It’s kind of like combing my brain.

If you can see practice in this light, you are in good company. Here’s what Martha Graham had to say about practice:

I believe that we learn by practice. Whether it means to learn to dance by practicing dancing, or to learn to live by practicing living, the principles are the same. In each, it is the performance of a dedicated, precise set of acts, physical or intellectual, from which come shape of achievement, the sense of one’s being, the satisfaction of spirit. One becomes in some area an athlete of God. Practice means to perform over and over again, in the face of all obstacles, some act of vision, of faith, of desire. Practice is a means of inviting the perfection desired.*

That’s pretty beautiful and inspiring, right?  You already know you want to play as well and beautifully as possible.  Why not learn to practice as well and beautifully as possible? It can only help your playing and your experience of music.

So stop reading this blog and hop to it!

*Excerpt from “An Athlete of God,” written by Martha Graham. From the book THIS I BELIEVE, edited by Jay Allison and Dan Gediman. Copyright ©2006 by This I Believe, Inc. Reprinted by arrangement with This I Believe, Inc.  To hear Martha Graham reading this essay in its entirety, please visit: http://www.thisibelieve.org/dsp_ShowEssay.php?uid=16583.

**photo credit:  http://www.flickr.com/photos/vox_efx/3089694499/