It’s been twelve years since I last told you about all the things I tell myself on a regular basis (henceforth casually referred to as “mantras”), unless you count the time I told you about all the things my mother always told me and which I now tell myself. Mantras come and go approximately at the rate of the lunar cycle, which is surely sheer coincidence, so I can only really tell you what’s running on my mantra marquee for the month of January 2023.
- There are too many wonderful things to do today.
This immediately 1) lets me off the hook from trying to do it all because that is clearly impossible and 2) reframes all the things I have to do as wonderful. They are wonderful because they mean I am connected to others in some way. Wonderful because they directly involve music. Wonderful because I am physically and mentally able to do them. Wonderful because I am alive to do them.
2. Transformation comes by way of attention, not preoccupation.
I am a solver of problems, real and conceptual. If there is any mental real estate available in my brain (e.g. when I’m walking, driving, or playing offbeats), I’m usually gnawing on some juicy puzzle. This is the definition of preoccupation–being occupied by a problem before it is right in front of you. It’s not the same as worrying–preoccupation can be calm or anxious–so this would all be fine and good if I wanted to be the world’s greatest problem solver and not a poet. And I mean “poet” in the loosest possible sense; I want to see the world as it truly is, not as it appears to be. This is my deepest wish. So when I catch myself obsessively problem-solving like an otherwise scrawny kid doing bicep curls, I remind myself that the world will transform itself before my very eyes if I just look at it rather than past it.
3. Live in music. Find the words.
Actually, this is a throwback to the last lunar cycle, but I want it to be my life mantra. To live inside of music is to forsake the music world, in which there is no music. Music is real; the music world is a construct (see above). By living I mean thinking. Music is what I want to think about, not who’s who and who’s good and where I fit into it all. I find the advice “don’t compare yourself to others” to be altogether unhelpful, but if I start thinking about music itself–about the unspeakable beauty of it–and if I sing music in my head (or out loud in emergency situations), everything else fades away without force.
Finding the words to express what’s in my head and my heart is a rare occurrence because I have an exceptionally slow brain, apparently. It almost never happens in conversation (sorry, guys!). But even in the privacy of my own mind, or when writing in my journal, I don’t always take the time to dig deep. I aspire to take the time to Find the Words. I need to remind myself that there is no greater feeling, and that it will be worth it. I need to have faith in what doesn’t exist yet.
“Live in Music, Find the Words” is actually the abbreviated version. The whole thing, as it stands now, is:
Live in Music–only come out to share, never to compare. Find the Words–email is a leash, social media, a cage.