I’m Reeling
Lately I had a relatively big instagram reel.
Big for me is more than 100 likes.
Whenever it happens, I figure it means the video is more useful or interesting than usual.
This clip captured a magical moment in a lesson when a movement theme became not only functional but playful.
We found ourselves playing a game.
We both rode the wave of mutual enjoyment as long as it lasted, until it gave way to the next moment.
Practice Makes Progress
I had a thought this week…
Practice doesn't make perfect.
Practice makes progress.
I was proud of this thought.
This was the first time I ever thought it.
Then I did a google search and saw it’s been thought so many times, it’s already got gifs and t-shirts and podcasts and everything.
Still, it’s a thought that visited me for the first time this week, so I’m happily repeating it to you.
Another thought about practice…
There’s this book called Turning Pro by Steven Pressfield.
In it, he's talking about how it’s possible to turn pro at something even if you’re not making a living at it.
He has this idea about two salaries.
There’s a financial salary, with conventional rewards like money, applause and attention, which are great if you can get em, but lots of artists and entrepreneurs struggle and fail to get recognized for their creative work.
But there’s also a second, psychological salary.
And the psychological salary has different, dare I say inner rewards:
feelings like satisfaction, pride in craft, enjoyment, self-knowledge, self-respect.
And here’s how the second salary ties into practice:
When we do the work for itself alone, our pursuit of a career (or a living or fame or wealth or notoriety) turns into something else, something loftier and nobler [or deeper, I might suggest], which we may never even have thought about or aspired to at the beginning.
It turns into a practice.
Ah, so a practice can scratch a deeper itch.
A practice doesn’t necessarily answer the question, how will I pay the rent?
But a practice can answer the question, What can I do with my life so it’s worthwhile to me?
Link to last post
Last time I sent out Skeleton School, I didn't have the settings right, so my email subscribers didn't get the newsletter.
It was a 3 minute read about how, maybe DANCE IS THE ANSWER.
You can read it here, if you like.
It harmonizes with the next, last section of this post.
Becoming the bass player
When I dance with a kid, I try to become their environment.
I become the floor.
I also join their nervous system, so we feel each other feeling.
Maybe it’s dance.
But maybe it’s music.
Maybe I’m trying to make them "sound good,” like I'm their rhythm section.
There’s a famous clip of the legendary music maker Herbie Hancock telling a story about playing with Miles Davis.
During a night when the band is really hot, playing really well, Miles is taking a solo.
Herbie plays a "wrong chord" on the piano.
Miles takes a breath.
Then Miles plays some notes that makes Herbie’s “mistake” sound amazing.
My job, with the kids, is to play with them, in the sense that musicians play music.
In music, there are melodies that stand out front, on their own, in the foreground.
Melodies may have words we remember and sing to ourselves, over and over.
Then there are harmonies, the bass, the piano, the inner voices.
Harmony is the environment or background that gives the melody its flavor and potency.
Now in my life, I like to check in, What’s going on in the background?
What is the harmony right now?
Typically, the bass lays down the lowest center of harmonic gravity.
So I think, what’s the bass line in my life right now?
My job, with the kids, is to play with them, in the sense that musicians play music.
For the most part, the kids are playing their melodies, the catchy things they like, that play on repeat through their nervous systems.
Maybe muscular habits are melodies.
One thing I do, with the kids, is play my bass line.
Anatomically speaking, the bass is the skeleton.
So I try to help them hear their own internal bass,
the structure inside them that provides the deepest internal support.
In the end, the kids are listening for the same things we’re all listening for.
What harmony would make these melodies I find myself playing sound good to me?
I try to help their music sound good to them.
We play and practice together.
Their rhythms.
Their tones.
Their songs of happiness and sorrow.
The music of their life.
Beautiful, love the bass analogy, much to digest for me in that one. Keep these coming! :)