Lesson #6: Live in a State of Surrender

This is part six of a series titled 6 Life Lessons Playing Piano Taught Me.

“To send light into the darkness of men’s hearts—such is the duty of the artist.” -Robert Schumann

Music has been kind to me. Like a good friend, I’ve always been able to turn to music with my problems and work through them with greater clarity. Music is an understanding companion, with an uncanny ability to peel back the emotional layers and leave me feeling stripped and vulnerable, yet somehow more alive.

So why did I fight music for so long? Learning to play, learning to compose and learning to teach were extraordinarily challenging, but when I finally stopped trying to bend music to my will and instead learned to flow in a state of surrender, I began to experience a measure of success.

I once attended a Sam Payne concert and between songs he said something like, “Songwriting requires striking a balance between the song you want to write and the song that wants to be written.” What he said rang true with me. It can be a struggle to get the music out of my head and onto the page, and often the result is different than I originally intended. But rather than argue with reality, I simply allow the process to unfold.

I worked hard in my early years as a developing pianist to learn to read ledger line notes, with no apparent result. After a while I gave up and moved on to other areas of musical study. Then one day I found that without any specific effort on my part I could just read ledger line notes. I heard later about a concept called “implicit learning” that made a lot of sense to me. A school classroom is an explicit learning environment, but implicit learning comes more naturally and seemingly without effort. Like a toddler who doesn’t need to be taught how to dance to the music but just starts moving, there are things we can learn without even trying—gifts that come to us simply because we exist. When I am struggling to play or compose a difficult song, sometimes the best thing I can do is set it aside for a while and trust that my future self will be better able to handle the challenge.
At one point I decided to take drum lessons so I could focus exclusively on the rhythmic component of music. The result was that I gained a whole new respect for the art of drumming and those who practiced it. The seven year old boy whose lesson was before mine was quite talented, and I would often compare myself to him as I slowly counted out, “One and two and three and ... wait, let me try that again ...” while attempting to perform the incredible feats of multitasking that experienced drummers seem to be able to handle with ease. One of my piano teachers pinpointed the issue when she told me as I was struggling with a particularly challenging passage, “You’re over-thinking it.” And she was right. There is a time and a place for thinking, and there is a time to just let go and feel. When I experience frustration, it’s a clear sign that I’m over-thinking and need to take a step back.

Surrendering has far more to do with an inner state of being than with external behavior. When I’m feeling anxious, angry or fearful, surrender is the cure. When I’m on my knees pulling my hair out because I feel like I’ll never be good enough, surrender is the answer. When I’m wound up so tightly that the slightest disturbance sends me into paroxysms of panic, surrender is what I desperately need. Surrender is serenity and trust. It is a healing balm for the overworked, the anxious and afraid, the unappreciated. And it is never further than a decision away.

Artists are often asked where they find inspiration. For me, inspiration comes in the ethereal space between sleeping and waking. I’ve woken up with original melodies playing in my head and immediately sat down at the piano to channel them into existence. I’ve had peace whispered to my soul during these beautiful and quiet moments. But when my peace is disturbed and my life is out of balance, I wake up to fear and dread instead of music. That’s how I know I’m missing the tranquility of surrender in my life.

I also find inspiration in the beauty of nature: the incredible and dynamic sky that serves as God’s canvas, the endless ocean waves, forests, deserts, animal life, dance, theater, and the lives of so-called ordinary people. There is always something to look to when I am thirsting for fulfillment, and my openness and willingness to surrender invites the creativity of an infinite universe to flow through me. The most important lesson I have learned from music is that it’s not about music, and it never was. It was always, from beginning to end, about being human.