Emerson and Tiny Matters

"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us." Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Every so often I have a small fit of anxiety. I don't recognize it until I am fully into the moment! It is triggered by something very small and insignificant...like disorganized boxes, unfinished jobs on the to-do list, or a computer issue. Whatever the trigger is - it isn't the problem really...the problem is always something else. I should know. I find and correct problems for a living!

You see, as a musician, we become adept at finding the problems, from the most major mistakes to the very tiniest of issues, in order to make an attempt at expressing that which is impossible to describe with words. We pick things apart, we put them back together, we slow it down, we change it out, and we experiment in expression. But in seeking out the minutia, I wonder if I fail to celebrate the technical or musical issues we have conquered - do I forget to actually revel in any success? I seem to live in this strange world of dissatisfaction, always seeking the next performance, that level of perfection that eludes me. That might be an accurate description of many of us, musician or not.

Today's anxiety is drawn from the well of another life change. A new job, a new town, a new home also means leaving my current job, current town, current home, and most importantly my friends. It probably also comes with the territory of completing the massive document of a dissertation. The euphoria has worn off and the shiny, bright words I placed so carefully on the page have now settled into a comfortable hum in the back of my brain. And I realize that I have a sense of impatient dissatisfaction with not having anything ready to submit to a journal, or a research study set and ready to go. And by ready, I mean by tomorrow. I feel rather adrift and unfocused, excited about the future, but apprehensive as well. And I wonder if this is the result of the process I have just completed, or the years of musical training, begging me to dissect what I have just done and examine the pieces to be sure to approach the next performance with more something, even as I have no idea what that is.

I know that I am not alone when I suffer apprehension about new situations...will they like me? Will they accept me? And when I consider a new teaching situation I worry...will I be effective? Will I be able to reach my students and help them achieve their dreams? And when I place words on a page in the future, I am now on my own, without my "support team" in the next hallway...what if what I write isn't acceptable to the profession? What if I don't really have all that much to say? (My siblings are now laughing hysterically, but perhaps those who didn't endure my incessant adolescent chatter will relate.)

Perhaps Emerson is right. What lies within us is not the minutia to tear apart, but is the work of writing a symphony. The daily work of confronting our doubts, insecurities, or fears, helps build that courage muscle to place those technical passages of life into rhythmic order, and allow our the melody of our lives to sing more beautifully from within. All this practicing with critiquing what is behind us and thinking about what is before us actually provides the practice room for creating what is within us. And maybe, just maybe, I am built more like Beethoven, writing a symphony in a painstaking manner, rather than a Mozart, whose symphonies seemed to flow from another realm. I rather like thinking of myself as a late bloomer, one who has had the opportunity to write a few lovely little ditties for herself before finding her own symphony to write. And even if I am the only one who recognizes the harmonies, a little dissonance only makes for a wonderful resolution!

Rather than fighting these feelings, I am going to try to embrace them. What a gift the last four years have been! It is simply time to put that to use, and celebrate the changes within that have inspired me to continue on my path. I can take the time to center myself, figure out what I am truly feeling. Quiet the critical voice and listen more closely to the symphony I am creating inside.