Lindsey and I were at Trader Joe's the other day, and she taught me yet another valuable life lesson. She saw these "Inner Peas" and said she had seen a comment by her friend on Facebook that they were really good. Ringing up at a steep $1.49, we decided we'd take the dive and give them a try. However, when we got to the cash register, a really enthusiastic Chinese cashier warned us, telling us how gross they were. She had even purchased a bag herself, and was giving out samples to customers about to buy them to show them what a terrible decision they were making. Not too sure how Trader Joe's management would feel about this, but hey, we were appreciative, and we told her not to ring up the bag. She set it aside and we kept talking. She was also more than excited to give us some free samples of real fruit juice lollipops. I'd rate my check-out experience a solid 10/10. When we got out to the car, we were pulling some stuff out of our bag to snack on, and noticed that she had accidentally put in the bag of Inner Peas, even though she hadn't charged us for it. I didn't think much of it, considering it was only a little over a dollar. However, Lindsey asked, "Don't you think we should take it back?" We were already on the road, and were headed to my sister's dance performance. After a once-a-day phone call from my mom for the last 30 days, telling us that yes, the dance concert WAS indeed on June 18th, and yes, we DID need to arrive at least an hour early, I thought it was probably more important to get to the concert than worry about the disgusting dollar snack. She said, "Let's just go back really quick...we aren't too far away." So, we turned the car around and she took the bag back in. She came back out about a minute later, and said, "Geez, I wasn't expecting that. I walked back in and gave the manager the bag back, saying we hadn't been charged for it, and his face immediately lit up. "Thank you so much! Wow! I am amazed that you would bring this back. These are so inexpensive, so I wouldn't ever expect that. That just made my day."" Did the $1.49 store savings make the manager's day? Probably not, considering we could have stolen 10 bags and it wouldn't have affected his paycheck. However, it was the simple and honest act, and not wanting any recognition or praise for it, that made his day. It was the fact that the deed was so minuscule, so tiny and seemingly unnecessary, but nevertheless important enough to someone to do the right thing....that's what made his day. I sat there thinking about it, and thought of how this could affect all of the people in his realm of influence. If he went to the gas station that night and they undercharged him, and he noticed it once he was out in his car, I'm almost positive he would have gone back, not because he would normally do so (well, maybe he would, maybe he wouldn't), but because of this small act. He would have at least thought twice about it, and probably gone with the more honest way. Every day we are faced with decisions that question our honesty and integrity. Most of these deeds probably go unnoticed, but surely there are people who do notice without our knowledge of it. If we are constantly trying to do the right thing, not for recognition or praise, but just because it's the right thing to do, it very well may have a chain effect that spreads far beyond our own realm of influence. The chain reaction, or the "pay it forward" mentality, may seem silly and insignificant to most, but my wife's simple and honest decision made me think twice about where I stood on the integrity scale, and made me resolve to go that extra mile, even when it seems unnecessary or inconvenient. Lindsey is cool.
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Hopefully one day I'll tee it up at Augusta. Being a pianist, I probably have a better chance than a lot of aspiring golfers because even though classical musicians usually aren't rich, our target audience members are often quite wealthy. In 2011, I went to a piano festival in the Hamptons. We lived there for one month, wining (minus the wine for Lindsey and I, the only Mormons at the festival, which everyone foundfascinating, and my hundreds of questions about which wines were best were only outnumbered by their thousands of questions regarding Mormonism) and dining with the ultra rich. For the concert programs, they requested biographies, and they wanted to include something out of the ordinary. In high school, I played on the golf team, and since I was at a 1A school, you could simply sign up and be on the golf team. My friend, Robert, was a master golfer, and would usually shoot in the 60's, and if he was having a really rough day, he would shoot in the 70's. I came in as the #2 player, shooting such stellar scores as 82 or 84 on a good day, with the #3 guy shooting in the 90's, and finally our #4 guy shooting in the low 100's. Needless to say, Robert carried us to our feeble second place finish at the State Championship (can you really call it a championship at that point?), with the top 4 players adding up their total scores. Thank heavens the other teams were just as horrible as we were. By some fluke, I made the All-State Golf Team (I was the second best player in a truly horrible division - what an honor!). At the All-State Golf Banquet, I was surrounded by scratch golfers, with my personal best round of the season being a dazzling 82. Iproudly accepted this award, realizing that it would probably be the only golf award I would ever receive. A few of my peer's parents caught wind of this, and threw a fit. "How did he make the All-State Golf Team!? My son is so much better." My mom and I would laugh at this - yes, as a matter of fact, your kid IS better! I just went to a school that was in the most pathetic division ever for golf! So, back the Hamptons, I listed in my biography that I was on the All-State Golf Team. One night, we were at an extremely ritzy "Tennis and Bath" club, or something like that (just think of things rich people like, and that will probably be the right title), and we played a concert outside for them on a perfectly cut lawn, surrounded by perfectly cut hedges, set against a backdrop of the most perfectly clean and serene beach (white sands against bluish-black water). Afterwards, we enjoyed a banquet of all you could eat lobster, crab, salmon, prime rib, steak, and whatever else you could think of. A guy came up to me and said, "Are you the golfer?" Why, yes I am! I haven't played more than a few times in the last 6 years, and 6 years ago when I played a lot I sucked, but, yes, I am the golfer. We talked for awhile, and he asked me, "Do you want to come play at Shinnecock Hills with me next week? I'm a member there. It's the number 3 course in America, only under Augusta and one other course, and they're holding the U.S. Open there in a few years." I was ecstatic, and naively texted my friend Robert to ask him how the course was. "Are you crazy? I've never played there!" I think everyone enjoyed my 4-putts that day. By some crazy miracle, I eagled from about 90 yards out on a par 4, so it wasn't a complete waste. And thus, from this experience, I have high hopes that one day, some rich donor will host a dinner that I'll perform at, with either a Master's champion in attendance that will love my playing SO much that he'll invite me to go tee it up with him, or a really nice old guy that will ask me to be his golf buddy for the day. Augusta is the Steinway and Sons of golf courses, unmatched by any others according to most people. I talk about all of this because this summer, I've reignited my old passion for golf. Sure, my brothers and I have played a handful of times over the last few years, and shot really good scores if you don't count our numerous mulligans (we've probably lost more balls than we've found in the bushes, searching for spare golf balls frantically out of necessity rather than at our leisure), but this summer, I've actually devoted some time a few times each week to going to the driving range and putting greens and really practice. It's been awesome that my wife has joined me almost every time we've gone, and she's starting to get into it as well. I've shot some pretty decent scores, and my game is feeling as sharp as it did in high school. A lot of times, as a musician, I can get into a rut. I think, "One more concerto, one more sonata, one more etude, one more nocturne." At the end of the day, who really cares how big my repertoire is? I love what I do, but sometimes, it can become a little stale. It's not that the music itself becomes monotonous or boring, but rather the process and routine can become mind-numbing if one is not careful. Ever since I started golfing this summer, I've been happier, not because I'm aspiring to be a pro golfer, but because I have a healthy and competitive distraction that challenges me in a completely different way. I see many correlations between golf and piano, the most obvious being that they are both extremely mentally demanding, require hours of work, and ultimately give you no guarantee of success. However, both have the sweetest and most amazing reward when executed well. The perfect expression and execution of a piece is very similar to sinking a birdie putt after a monster drive straight down the fairway, followed by a 5-feet-from-the-pin approach shot and an easy make for the -1. I find that a lot of people say, "When I retire...." To be honest, I never want to retire. I love what I do so much that I'll never quit doing it. However, there are days when I question this, and on those days, all I need is something like golf to round things out in my mind, to give me a mental release elsewhere that piano just isn't doing for me. I find myself more rejuvenated than ever about music when I step off of the golf course having just played 9 or 18 holes, or just going to the driving range to practice and clear my head. I hate clichés, but I do have to say that I agree with the one that says, "Work hard, play hard." However, I would change it to be "Work hard, play harder." When you have this mentality, I think the roles can be reversed - work can become play, and play can become work. When work becomes play, you are SO happy doing what you're doing, and when play becomes work, you have a healthy and competitive challenge to make yourself grow and succeed in the things you love doing most. Stories of World War II have always been a great source of inspiration for me in my performing, both for the pain and extreme tragedy endured by millions of Jews, as well as their undying perseverance through the most intense trials a human being could possibly face. Their determination and positive outlook through the total debasing of their humanity gives hope to all. It is a beacon of light for us in our daily tests that challenge us to become better human beings. On my last album, I arranged a piece that combines Rachmaninoff's Elegie, one of the most heart-breaking works in the entire piano repertoire, along with the theme from Schindler's List. Before I play this at each concert, I have been telling a particularly touching story that has changed my life, and I'd like to relay it to each of you here. It is one of the most powerful examples of forgiveness that I've ever come across, and motivates me to be a better and more loving human being. “It was in a church in Munich that I saw him—a balding, heavyset man in a gray overcoat, a brown felt hat clutched between his hands. People were filing out of the basement room where I had just spoken, moving along the rows of wooden chairs to the door at the rear. It was 1947 and I had come from Holland to defeated Germany with the message that God forgives. “When we confess our sins,’ I said, ‘God casts them into the deepest ocean, gone forever. …’ “The solemn faces stared back at me, not quite daring to believe. “And that’s when I saw him, working his way forward against the others. One moment I saw the overcoat and the brown hat; the next, a blue uniform and a visored cap with its skull and crossbones. It came back with a rush: the huge room with its harsh overhead lights; the pathetic pile of dresses and shoes in the center of the floor; the shame of walking naked past this man. I could see my sister’s frail form ahead of me, ribs sharp beneath the parchment skin. “Now he was in front of me, hand thrust out: ‘A fine message, Fräulein! “And I, who had spoken so glibly of forgiveness, fumbled in my pocketbook rather than take that hand. He would not remember me, of course—how could he remember one prisoner among those thousands of women? “But I remembered him and the leather crop swinging from his belt. I was face-to-face with one of my captors and my blood seemed to freeze. “ ‘You mentioned Ravensbruck in your talk,’ he was saying, ‘I was a guard there.’ No, he did not remember me. “ ‘But since that time,’ he went on, ‘I have become a Christian. I know that God has forgiven me for the cruel things I did there, but I would like to hear it from your lips as well. Fräulein,’ again the hand came out—’will you forgive me?’ “And I stood there—I whose sins had again and again been forgiven—and I could not forgive. My Sister had died in that place—could he erase her slow terrible death simply for the asking? “It could not have been many seconds that he stood there—hand held out—but to me it seemed hours as I wrestled with the most difficult thing I had ever had to do. “For I had to do it—I knew that. The message that God forgives has a prior condition: that we forgive those who have injured us. Since the end of the war I had had a home in Holland for victims of Nazi brutality. Those who were able to forgive their former enemies were able also to return to the outside world and rebuild their lives, no matter what the physical scars. Those who nursed their bitterness remained invalids. It was as simple and as horrible as that. “And still I stood there with the coldness clutching my heart. Help!’ I prayed silently. ‘I can lift my hand. I can do that much. You supply the feeling.’ “And so woodenly, mechanically, I thrust my hand into the one stretched out to me. And as I did, an incredible thing took place. The current started in my shoulder, raced down my arm, sprang into our joined hands. And then this healing warmth seemed to flood my whole being, bringing tears to my eyes. “ ‘I forgive you, brother!’ I cried. ‘With all my heart!’ “For a long moment we grasped each other’s hands, the former guard and the former prisoner. I had never known God’s love so intensely, as I did then.” -Corrie Ten Boom This is a beautiful story about someone who cares more about others than himself. "You can be with Zach, and just be sitting there with him, and feel better. He's got...I don't know how to describe it...he's got this aura about him," his dad comments in the video. "What makes you happy is seeing someone else smile because you put it there," Zach said. One thing that I see a lot of in society is people cutting others down. I think for the most part, human beings are innately good, that each of us has a light within us that makes us want to succeed, and makes us want to help others. However, with the stresses of life piling upon us, we must be extremely careful, for our inner light's brightness is in serious danger of being lessened and dimmed. If we ignore this problem long enough, the light can be completely extinguished and we become cold and heartless human beings, with false motives and mirages of goodness that are inwardly evil and selfish. Being in the career I've chosen, I see an incredible amount of superfluous and cunning "goals" that pianists set for themselves. I am constantly talking about these things with my wife, and how fame is one of the most deceiving vices a human being can encounter. Growing up, I always dreamed of being a famous concert pianist, performing in cities across the world, getting to travel and see the most beautiful things this planet has to offer. I let it become so ingrained in me that it defined who I was. Everything I did was the for the advancement of my career, and I cared little about anything else. My friends from school or in the neighborhood would ask if I could come and play soccer or basketball or go golfing, and I was actually happy to tell them that I couldn't because I was practicing. I remember quitting competitive soccer at age thirteen and it was one of the greatest days of my life. Sure, I always enjoyed playing sports, and I got really into skiing and golf in high school, but more often than not I would cancel anything and everything for piano. I would rarely attend anything my siblings would do - soccer games, football games, dance recitals, and a bunch of other cool stuff - because I had a crazy amount of hours I had to practice if I was ever going to reach this goal. I would always tell myself, "Piano comes before everything except God." One of the greatest blessings came when I met my wife, Lindsey. We started dating when I was 17, and ended up dating (minus a two-year church mission) until we got married when I was 22. We wrote each other the whole time I was on that mission, and being away from her was even harder than being away from piano. She has taught me more about perspective and what is really important in life than anyone else. She teaches me daily that self-definition is not about how big my repertoire is, how many competitions I've won, how many CDs I've produced, or any of that kind of stuff. Ultimately, self-definition is about how you affect others and bless their lives through your endeavors. I watch my colleagues enter competition, after competition, after competition, just knowing that if they can win one of them that their careers will be set, only to find that the life of a concert pianist continues to be a tough and endless road of work and dedication. Many of them have burned out and quit, and other push on tirelessly, allowing practicing to devour their entire existence. While I have respect for their passion and work ethic, I pity the fact that many of them are missing out on life and the many beautiful experiences that they could have if they kept things in perspective and balance. Like Zach, you are remembered for who you are, much more than your list of accomplishments. One of the great heroes of piano is Van Cliburn, who recently passed away. While his winning of the Tchaikovsky competition was monumental, I noticed that everyone who was mourning the loss of this wonderful person were saying things about who he was rather than listing his many pianistic accomplishments. They commented on what kind of being he was, on the kindness and character he exuded from his charismatic and loving personality. We can all learn a great deal from people like these. It is one of the most elegant truths that when we do what we can to assist and glorify others, we receive the greater reward. My dad is undoubtedly the hardest worker I've ever met in my life. He's a stonemason, something his dad taught him and his four brothers. The picture above is one of his masterpieces - a house he built made of 100% stone. His brothers won't admit it, but he's definitely the best among them, and probably the best stonemason in Utah. The thing that sets him apart from others is his amazing attention to detail, and the touch that causes his projects to turn into an artistic tapestry, rather than a bare wall with stones pasted onto it. Not only is he incredibly quick at what he does, but he's incredibly strong as well. I still remember when I was about 10 years old and I was at work with him. Weighing in at only 180 pounds, he can lift over twice his body weight, and I recall him hoisting some 300-400 pound corner pieces onto a wall by himself since his other worker was gone. I was in awe at this ox of a human being. My brothers and I were frequently pawned off on him by my mom, who desperately needed a rest from us! My brother, Jared, and I would always be given the difficult tasks. My brother, Jordan, on the other hand, is the youngest brother, and my dad sympathizes with him since he was the youngest of all of his brothers as well. Jordan could often be found asleep in the sand pile while Jared and I were about to have a heart attack, trying to keep up with the millions of "necessary" tasks given to us, probably meant more to keep us occupied rather than to help him on the job site. One of our favorite jobs he would give us - a huge rest from mixing mud, hauling rock, or setting up scaffolding - was to go and find nails. Jared and I would often hit the jackpot, finding boxes and boxes of nails that had been "abandoned" by the framers or carpenters. We would fill the back of his truck with them, only to be disappointed when he informed us that when nails were still packaged nicely into boxes, they weren't up for grabs. This would result in us going back to hauling rock, with my dad probably sighing that he was ever foolish enough to trust a 10 year old and 7 year old to accomplish much of anything. The most glorious and holy words of the day were only uttered after we were completely exhausted - "Boys! Put on the tailgates! We're done!" Putting those tailgates on the back of the truck was sweeter than any amount of money we were getting paid, even with the generous 2 or 3 dollars per hour we would earn for our "help". Although I have many anxiety-filled memories of working construction with my dad, he has taught me many great lessons. When I was fifteen, I told him I hated doing stonemasonry, and that I would give anything to do anything else. He said, "Either you can work with me, or you can start your own business. I don't want you working at McDonalds." I immediately set out on building the biggest piano studio possible, terrified that if I didn't have enough students he would make me go back to being a mindless mule - unloading an entire truck of rock, only to immediately begin loading it back onto the truck again. I grew to love teaching piano more than I probably ever would have, since it got me out of the 100 degree heat of Utah summers, teaching others what I love doing most. Fast forward about ten years, and I was talking to him over the kitchen table. I said "Dad, even though our businesses are quite different in nature, they are in essence the same. You and I both love doing what we do, and we're both pretty good at what we do. But, our jobs are pretty similar day to day. You're doing something artistic, but how do you keep motivation? What keeps you going? What makes you want to wake up and do another fireplace, another mailbox, another house? What drives you? Is it the money? Ultimately, money doesn't mean much in the grand scheme of things. How do you get out of the monotony of everyday tasks?" He proceeded to teach me one of the most significant lessons of my adult life. "Josh, it's not about the money. It's not about finishing the job. It's not even about the challenge of seeing how quick I can finish something, how hard I can work, how much I can accomplish. It's much more than that. Every day, I set out with one goal in mind - how artistic can I be today? What can I do to challenge myself as an artist? How can I improve my craft and skill to create something even more beautiful than the day before?" I have found this to be the most noble motivation I've ever applied to my daily practice and teaching. Rather than enduring a student's lesson that's not going well, I think, "What is it that is causing this student to not succeed with this task? What analogy can I give them that will motivate them to do better? How can I inspire them? How can I help them to be more artistic and noble in their thinking?" These are some of the greatest challenges I've encountered as a pianist - how I can get someone else to feel the sacred and divine qualities of a piece of music? Once a student loves something, they almost always succeed. But, how can I foster and nourish that love within them? How can I bring out the composer's lofty intent for the piece they are playing, especially when the student is not an advanced player? Nothing is more sweet than seeing them catch the fire of passion, seeing them understand and teach themselves. Similarly, in my own practice, it is a constant experiment. How can I make this passage sing? How can I make it weep? How can I make it sound like it's yearning for something in the past, or in the future? How can I convey the pain of this passage, or the joy of this phrase? In other words, how artistic can I become?This is undoubtedly the most noble motivation there is - connecting the physical with the spiritual, elevating the ordinary to a level of such serene and spiritual purity that one cannot help but marvel at the beauty they behold. One of the great privileges of being an artist is the opportunity you have to meet other artists and get to know them, hear about their past experiences, and find out some great life lessons that they have learned in their musical journeys. This last week was thrilling as many artists on the Shadow Mountain Record label gathered to entertain 12,000 screaming ladies at Women's Conference at BYU. WOW! It's always such a rush. I think I get more nervous to play for that than almost any other event. The sheer size of the crowd is daunting, but the fact that I was playing two brand new pieces was even more intimidating. It was an incredibly fun experience, but the real treasure of the night was a conversation I had beforehand with an amazing individual, composer of the Forgotten Carols, as well as a new (and may I say WONDERFULLY entertaining and exciting) musical, called "Threads", Michael McLean. Lindsey and I have always loved talking to this guy. He's the kind of person that everyone loves to be around because he emanates love and respect, and makes you feel like you're the most important person in the world. When you ask about his projects, which are incredibly successful (he's sold millions of copies of his works) he'll just humbly respond with something like, "You know, I'm able to keep the lights on, and I feel really lucky to be able to do that by making music and doing what I love to do." All musical talent set aside (which he has a lot of) he's a great role model for the kind of person you want to become. We were talking backstage and he asked how school was going. I told him the long story about how I finally decided on attending the University of Michigan after a lot of prayer and contemplation, and the great spiritual lessons I learned when selecting a school. Basically, I learned that even when you think you have the right answer and you feel like you are being directed in a certain path, God will stop you if that's not the right way for you to go, because of his infinite love for each of us. I had never previously experienced that. Whenever I had thought about life decisions, and prayed about them, I'd received a certain answer, trusted it, and that was that. But this time was different, and it taught me a great lesson that we have to be flexible as human beings, and trust in a power and source that is much greater than we are as individuals. (The following are not exact quotes, but things he told me to the best of my memory) "You know, Josh," he said, "I'm so glad you're experiencing this when you're young, and not when you're fifty, because it can really shake you when you get older. You'll be in a groove, feeling like you know what you're doing, like you've got a system that works. Then one day, you can be thrown a curveball, and it can cause a lot of doubt. You come to realize that no matter what, when you trust in God, he helps you, even when you don't think what he wants is the best thing for you. You may not even know for a decade why you were led to that decision, but it's important that you always trust that answer." I have a tremendous amount of respect for Michael, because after he compliments you, he takes opportunities to share tremendous jewels of wisdom. "There's going to be times in your life when you're going to be so wrapped up in your career, and your son's going to come up to you and say, "Dad, do you love that piano more than me?" Of course, you'll tell him "No." But, your actions speak louder than your words. You'll start justifying your obsession, saying, "I'm the provider for my family! I have to do this to put food on the table. Why is everyone questioning my dedication to my career? This is touching so many lives, and supporting my family in the meantime." There will come a time when you'll have a major decision, saying, "Is this tour worth it? No. You know what, it's not worth it, because my family is more important." I'm not saying you quit, or anything like that, but you always keep your priorities in line. Your son will notice. And you know what? That's the best feeling in the world. He'll know it in his heart. He'll know that he's more important. Even though he sees you up on that stage night after night, even when you're gone on the road, if you truly show him that he is your first priority, that family is first, he will look past those times when you have to provide and be out doing shows. I can't tell you what it's like when he knows that. He'll be talking to his friends, and he'll say, "You know what?......My dad really, really loves the piano.......but you know what?..........He loves me more." Thank you Michael McLean for your constant humility, kindness and inspiration. You are an example to all of us. What more can I do? This question can be incredibly beneficial, or extremely deadly, according to the individual. For perfectionists, it's torture. When I was young, I was a perfectionist. As I've grown older, I've mellowed out a little, but I've still tried to keep the intensity of focus I had when I was younger. To give you an idea of what a psycho I was, my mom would ask me at the end of the day, "Did you do your 2 and a half hours of practicing?" (that was the standard starting at 12 years old) and I would say "Yeah, I did it." Then she would say, "Did you do your best?".....NOOOOO! I hated that question. "Well, I don't know Mom. No, I guess I didn't, because I could always do better!" She would just roll her eyes and say, "Oh my goodness, you need to lighten up and have some fun!" My mom and I continue to have a great relationship to this day, and I attribute a lot of my success to the perspective she always helps me keep amidst this crazy career as a musician. I remember I was preparing to play the last movement of the Rachmaninoff Third Concerto with orchestra when I was 15 (in hindsight, it was a very smart move on my teacher's part, because I feel so much more comfortable with it now, but back then, it was pretty overwhelming) and I was really stressing out, saying, "What if I'm not with the orchestra? What if I screw up? What should I do?" My mom would respond, "Well, at least you'll look nice in that tux and be the cutest kid on stage. That's all that really matters, right?" She had a great way of lightening the pressures of performing that can really ruin you if you're not careful. I see lots of "tiger" moms (or is it "dragon" moms? Maybe I'm thinking of theCrouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon movie) and I just think, "Those poor kids aren't ever going to have a life! They might be the best at what they do, but who cares if they are that talented if they aren't enjoying their studies and having a good time in life?" I think every person has potential to do great things, and self-belief is the first step to achieving anything. If you don't believe in yourself, if you don't have a vision that extends more than a few days or weeks, then you can't make any big plans for your future. Sure, living in the moment is the best way to live, but you can also plan for the future in the moment, planning wonderful things to not only benefit your life and your family, but also extending your reach to as many people as possible. Being an artist, I'm always very intrigued by what other people do aside from piano. Sure, I'm inspired by the great pianists, teachers and composers throughout the past few centuries, but I think being 100% focused on any one thing in life is an enormous mistake. When we broaden our horizons, we become better at what we do. I recently came across a YouTube channel that one of my friends posted, called DevinSuperTramp. This kid is AMAZING at videography. Even though his videos are about people just having a wildly good time, like making a rope swing off of one of the arches at Zion's National Park, cliff-diving in Hawaii, or filming the world's best Yo-Yo"er", he is able to capture things with such elegance with his camera that I love just turning it on and watching if I'm feeling a little stale or uninspired in my practice. It's not that I want to be a videographer at all. It's his art form - motion picture - that inspires me, and makes me want to be better at what I do. Would my life be fine if I hadn't found this kid's work (I say "kid" because he is really young - he's probably early 20's if I had to guess)? Of course it would, because I wouldn't know any better. But is my life even better because of this kid's videos? I would have to say yes. They aren't LIFE-ALTERING videos or anything like that, but they are really fun to watch, and they give me ideas for possible music videos I'd like to shoot in the future. So, how did the improvement in my life occur because of hisvideos? It all started back with Devin, one day probably saying something like, "What more can I do? I know, I want to be the best at what I do. I want to shoot the most beautiful videos possible. I want to work like a dog to capture every detail with such immaculate precision that my viewers will appreciate it and find beauty like they may not have seen before." Does everyone love this kid? Does everyone know who he is? No way. But I like his work, and I know who he is, and you know what? He makes me want to be better at shooting my videos on piano teaching on YouTube. He makes me want to make more beautiful shots when I record my performances, because the beauty and magic is in the details. His videos inspire me to be better and more creative at what I do. In essence, watching a random kid's video on the internet that one of my friends posted one day made me say to myself, "What more can I do?" I feel very blessed to be a pianist, but I often feel even more blessed to be a teacher. Many students from YouTube who I've never met email me with their questions and express appreciation for the videos I post. I'm always flattered and humbled when they do this, but the thing that gets me really excited is when they tell me the videos have changed something within them, and they tell me what they're going to go out and do now that they've been inspired by a particular video. Every person that emails me is better at something than me. Maybe it's skateboarding, maybe it's video games, maybe it's violin, maybe it's math...who knows? But I know that every person who emails me is my equal, and that we each have strengths that can benefit one another. In this, we can learn from each other. When I can inspire someone to be better at what they do because of what I do, just like Devin's videos and work ethic inspired me, I've "paid it forward." That seed of inspiration that Devin received from whatever source he attained it was planted in him, and it grew, and bore fruit and a seed was planted in my mind, and it grew and bore fruit, and some of the students who have seen my videos have had the same thing happen to them. Where does it all begin? Who was Devin inspired by, and who inspired that guy/girl, and who inspired them, and so on? It all starts in the mind of one individual. It all starts with a seed of creativity and inspiration. We have unlimited to potential to extend our reach, and it all starts with one simple question - "What more can I do?" I have an awful habit - when I write, I can be a little preachy. I think language is one of the great mediums through which humans communicate, and I've always enjoyed writing since I was young. I think language can be really beautiful when the words are carefully chosen, and it can be yet another art form for us to express ourselves. However, I give anyone reading these posts free reign to tell me to cool it if I become too philosophical, too deep, or if I sound like I'm giving a sermon rather than writing a "Piano Doctors" blog post (wow, did that just sound as lame as I think it did? Might need to rethink that title...) I've been taking a class on opera in the 19th and 20th centuries this semester. I know so little about opera, and many of my teachers talk about it as the epitome of all art forms. It combines voice, orchestra, dance, acting, staging, and many other elements that are quite different from a solo piano concert. So, I decided to give it a go. It has been quite interesting, and I really like my teacher. She goes into underlying themes and deeper meanings that are not immediately evident upon viewing the opera, and makes overarching themes that help musicians in all fields of study. Having said this, I always dread the tests, because all of the singers in the class are like, "Oh yeah, when I sung this part, ______(fill in the blank with a "I'm such a deep thinker"-type sentence)," and I'm sitting here thinking, "Wait, what's the name of this thing again?" I've never been good at preparing far in advance, so my short-term memory has had to become razor-sharp over my years of study, in regards to homework and tests. Last night at around 5 p.m., the thought occurred "Okay Josh, you have a little less than twelve hours to study all of the underlying themes of 6 major operas (Parsifal, Pelléas et Melisande, Salome, Tosca, Wozzeck, and The Rake's Progress) and listen to about 10 hours of selections...nice work." So I set off to studying. I'd give myself small breaks to send Lindsey texts, and you know, watch an episode of "Friends". I managed to get through everything by about 2 a.m., then got up at 7 a.m. to study for another couple of hours before the test. The test didn't turn out to be too bad, but a thought occurred to me during the test - just a few hours ago, less than one day ago, you had forgotten all of this stuff, and here you are, writing about all of it, talking of the deep musical meaning behind some of the greatest works of all time. What the heck? As humans, I believe deadlines are great motivators, because even though they can stress us out, they push us to be better, to finish things. I find myself so often thinking, "Man, when school is out, it's going to be so nice to_____." But today during the test, I actually enjoyed what I was writing about. All of the stuff I had been dreading fascinates me. Why am I such a complainer? I know it will make me a better musician. This led to further thought after my test was done, making me think "Why should I ever complain about learning anything?" A few nights back, I was watching a few crazy documentaries on YouTube about foreign countries, one in particular being about Liberia. Wow, I am so lucky to have grown up in America. The thing that struck me more than anything was that every native was commenting about how poor the education systems were, and how that leads to higher crime rate, higher unemployment rate, and an overall demoralization of society, both sexually and mentally. The kids that are lucky enough to go to school love it, and cherish every moment. They have a purpose. They have a vision for their future, and they are no longer strictly in "survival" mode. What I'm getting at here is that every chance to learn should be seized with great zeal and be considered a great opportunity for self-improvement. We can find joy in just about anything when we put our minds to it. I'd love to make this blog more a place of discussion in my "anti-sermon" endeavor. What are some experiences you've had that have made you come to the realization of finding joy in the journey? What are some obstacles you are trying to overcome? In this last election, one of my greatest friends, and an individual I respect more than almost anyone, told me this, "Josh, even though we share differences in opinion about our political views, I still respect what everyone has to say, and I think deep and thoughtful discussion - even when both parties disagree with each other - is one of the best learning environments there is." Thank you for the great wisdom Zsolt Bognar (everyone should go check out his stuff on YouTube, as well as his writing...he is incredible). I look forward to hearing all of your comments. Thank you for your support :) Two days ago I received one of the most incredible pieces of advice on the concept of learning that I've ever received in my life, from any teacher on any subject. "You have to find every element of what you are studying to be completely fascinating.....not just interesting, but really, really fascinating! You have to enter a whole different world. When you do this, it's as if your mind just opens up and you pour the information in, and it stays there forever, or at least for a really long time. It's not short term. Every time I sit down at the piano I try to enter this mode of thinking, this mindset, where I'm making this connection, and that connection, and this connection, and that, and this, and that, and this, and that...making as many connections between as many elements of the piece as I can think of." My teacher here at the University of Michigan, Logan Skelton, is one of the most inspiring individuals I've ever met in the way he thinks about things. He has this crazy ability to organize things in such cogent and coherent ways. Whenever I used to have trouble in a passage, I used to think, "Okay, I just need to work on this. I need to practice it differently." Throughout my studies with him this year, I have learned the value of thinking about it differently, not just practicing it more, or practicing it differently. Almost all problems are mental, and that is where they should be fixed - in the mind. If something isn't working, don't just drill it over, and over, and over, and over. Go back to the drawing board and think "Could I organize this passage in my mind in a fundamentally different way? How am I thinking about it right now that is causing so many problems? Where is the flaw?" Many times, being a great diagnostician in your studies is the biggest battle. For most doctors, they see a set of symptoms, and they prescribe a type of drug or treatment to cure the patient. But in my mind, the greatest doctors are the ones who are great diagnosticians (okay, maybe I've watched a little too much House in the past!). When something doesn't work they don't keep trying the same treatment or slight variations of the same treatment. They go back to square one and take a whole new approach. I think this is a valuable lesson that can permeate into all aspects of life, including school, work, and relationships. When something we are doing isn't working, when we are bored, when we are discouraged, when we are tired of doing what we are doing, we as humans have a tendency to blame others or our surroundings. However, others and our surroundings are usually not the problem, except in cases of abuse and other extreme circumstances. I'm not saying that things aren't going to be tough, but rather than getting angry and frustrated about something, discouraged, or beaten down, it's beneficial to step away from the problem completely and find a different approach. I served a mission for my church, and as the main leader of our mission always said, "Adjust in battle." Not only should we adjust in battle, but we should adjust to make every element of what we are going to change completely and utterly fascinating. There is so much beauty that surrounds us every day, even in a very corrupt and conflicted world. When we can dig in and find the inner beauty of every element of every activity we are doing, problems and setbacks dissolve in the enzymes of motivation, productivity, inspiration, revelation, and well-being. Rachmaninoff Etudes Tableaux, Op.39....here I come! I like weird people. Some of the most fascinating individuals I have encountered are among the strangest people on the planet, and I love them for it. When I say "weird" I don't necessarily mean socially awkward people, the people who leave long gaps of silence before they respond to you, or the ones who just smile back at you when you ask them a question. I'm also referring to brilliant individuals who are so brilliant that they just can't be classified as normal. I'm referring to the people who have such off-the-wall ideas that your first reaction is either, "okay....?", "huh...?" or "Wow, he/she is nuts." Welcome to my new post - Pencils, Tigers, and Other Stuff, meriting one, two, AND/(or) three of those previously mentioned reactions. I'm very weird (minus the aforementioned brilliance). What I have to say here is actually inspiration from one of my greatest heroes, both as a pianist and as an individual. I met her when I was nine years old. I was on my way to my audition to determine whether I would be accepted into her piano studio. She was the head of the University of Utah piano department. Yeah...she's kind of a big deal. I panicked in the car ride there, trying to remember everything I'd learned about music up to that point, because I desperately wanted to study with her. My heart sank as we turned onto her street - what were those long, curved lines above the music? Slurs? Oh man, I definitely wasn't going to pass this audition. Fortunately, she must have seen some ray of hope, because she accepted me into her studio, and thus started a journey from which I would never turn back. Susan Duehlmeier is one of the most amazing individuals and teachers I've ever met. And, she's very weird - not in the sense that she's not fun to talk to or that she dresses weird, or anything like that (she's very articulate, and classy). She's weird in the sense that she can learn and memorize a concerto overnight, run the piano department at the University, have a position in her church that is extremely demanding, teach tons of students, perform all of the time, and still have time to take my calls when I have an issue with a piece I'm playing, or worse yet, a musical crisis (yes, all you jocks out there can punch me later for that last statement....back off, musical crises do exist). I found myself in such a crisis at the National Chopin Competition in 2010. I had just played my entire first round, and somehow it went pretty well. The reason I say "somehow" isn't because I wasn't prepared. It's because I completely froze up mentally, and basically my over-preparation for the competition allowed my fingers to carry me through my mental breakdown without crashing-and-burning too badly. I felt sick about performing the next round a couple of days later. I'd never had that big of a problem with nerves, but now I knew what everyone was talking about. This was a huge competition, and perhaps it was my great love for Chopin's music, coupled with my desire to be successful in my performances that put an enormous amount of pressure on me. I gave Susan a call, and sure enough, she had a brilliant answer as always. We talked of several things to help aid this situation, including imagery. We had already discussed imagery as a means of calming oneself before a performance, but how does imagery work when you're on stage? Sure, if the piece reminds you of a story or a situation in life, go ahead and think about it. But what about when you start to derail? I've found that once a performer starts to derail, nerves set in at a whole new level, and it's hard to recover. She said something particularly noteworthy - "You have to find a way to distract yourself from your nerves when they set in." And so I come back to the title of this post - Pencils, Tigers, and Other Stuff. I took Susan's idea to heart, and set out on really honing the idea of distraction in times of crisis or extreme nerves. This idea can apply to non-musicians as well. This can be for anyone experiencing a panic attack of any kind. What do you do? What do you think of? There's a cliche in our culture that can be applied to almost any situation in life - "Back to Basics." What is one of the first things you learned as a child? Pretty basic stuff, across the board. You learned sounds, shapes, and how to name things. You learned what a pencil is, what a tiger looks like, and a whole lot of other stuff. So, what I'm advocating here is going to sound super weird, but it works. It has worked for me every time. When you are having a crisis, go back to the basics in your mind, and focus on the image of a pencil. That's it. If that's not doing it for you, focus on the image of a tiger. That's it. If that doesn't work, choose something else, anything else, but choose an object that won't move around in your mind. It just sits there, and you focus all of your energy and thought on that one thing. It can be a word, a color, or a beautiful sunset on a beach, if we're wanting to stick to the idea of cliches. What this does is temporarily remove you from your current situation. It puts you in a world where only one thing exists - that pencil, tiger, word, color, sunset, etc. And when you're in a world where only one thing exists, life is pretty simple, right? You don't have to worry about hitting that next note, you don't have to worry about having a mental breakdown, you don't have to worry about the bills, picking up the kids, doing the laundry, going to work, or anything else that causes you stress. Pretty soon, you get really bored of that image. You think, "Wow, this is it?" Yep, that's it. For now. But hey, you can choose to return to your current situation anytime you like. You'll start to realize that your current situation isn't all that bad. You start to realize that no matter what situation you're in (unless you're about to fall off of a cliff), it's not the end of the world. Who cares if I screw up a measure of my piece? Who cares if the laundry isn't done this instant. And you know what? My kids can learn the art of patience and wait for an extra two (or twenty) minutes for me to pick them up from school. My brother Jared and I mastered the art of patience (just kidding Mom...love you?). I guess what I'm trying to say here is that temporary distraction, coupled with perspective can solve almost any crisis dealing with nerves. If you're performing, I'm not suggesting that you stop playing and sit on stage in silence. You simply distract yourself from your nerves, or from those horrible thoughts like "What's the next note? and the next? and the next?"which turn your performing experience into a nightmare. Take a few seconds to get out of that world of mental destruction by focusing on something really basic. If everyday life is stressing you out, take a few moments and do a breathing exercise. If nerves are constantly torturing you, I suggest reading the book by one of the weirdest people of all - Eckhart Tolle. His work, "The Power of Now", along with these very weird ideas I presented today, have helped me nearly conquer all nerves when I perform. Sure, there are times when nerves creep up, but when they do, I know what to think about - pencils, tigers, and other stuff. |
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