Sunday, March 9, 2014

On Striving: Tupperware Lids and Jaw Tension


On Thursday evening, I stared myself down in the practice room mirror.  Nearly at my wits’ end, I was at an impasse between my brain and my body; between the way I wanted to sing and the sound that I was producing.

For the past several years, nearly every voice teacher, peer, or adjudicator has offered some variant of this piece of advice:
           
Don’t try so hard.

Like so many singers, evidence of strain has manifested in my jaw, tongue, and shoulders.  My abdomen is sometimes so locked that my diaphragm feels more like concrete than a buoyant water balloon.  Hulk veins in my neck pop out when I sing difficult passages above the staff.  

It has taken me two years to undo just a few of those bad tension habits.  And now, in a practice room that felt more like a sanatorium, I laughed inwardly at this most recent irony:
           
I am now trying really hard to not try so hard.

And boy, have I tried everything:  Prayer. Yoga. The Alexander Technique. Personal exploration. Mental exercises. Stretches. You name it.  Still, the tension remains, like a stubborn Tupperware lid that refuses to shut properly: after succeeding in pushing one corner down, the opposite end pops right back up to mock you.

My teacher in college recommended a book that I have found so helpful: The Inner Game of Tennis: The Classic Guide to the Mental Side of Peak Performance by W. Timothy Gallwey.  Gallwey describes what actually occurs in athletes when they are playing “in the zone.”  He explains how, in our mind, we have two selves: Self 1 (the judging self) and Self 2 (the non-judging self). Players are at their peak when they completely let go of Self 1, the Ego.  By releasing judgments and control, Self 2 (our body) is allowed to work the way it is designed without the interference of our egos providing self-instruction or critique. When that inner voice is silenced and we are allowed to simply be, we can truly focus on the present. Gallwey quotes D.T. Suzuki regarding this state of peak performance:

“As soon as we reflect, deliberate, and conceptualize, the original unconsciousness is lost and a thought interferes…. Calculation, which is miscalculation, sets in…. Man is a thinking reed but his great works are done when he is not calculating and thinking. ‘Childlikeness’ has to be restored….”

Nevertheless, shutting down the tendency to control and demand proves to be the most challenging task for me, not just in the practice room but in everyday life as well.

Why is this?

I believe what Gallwey submits to us is that we strive because we want the glory for our success.  We want to be responsible for getting things right, so our ego interferes with our natural selves.

The same is true with God I think. In life, there are so many times that I sense myself striving – striving to love people well, striving to serve, striving to be kind, striving to be perfect, etc.  All of those things are good, right? We are called to “make every effort to add to [our] faith goodness; and to goodness, knowledge; and to knowledge, self-control; and to self-control, perseverance; and to perseverance, godliness; and to godliness, mutual affection; and to mutual affection, love” (2 Peter 1:5-7). 

But if I’m honest with myself, how often do I try on these attributes so that I can be perceived as “good” or “spiritual” or “kind?” When that becomes my motivation, when satisfying a need for approval or attention or glory drives me to perform, those attributes that I'm striving for won’t last: I will  always come to the end of my rope; I will resent those that take too much from me.  My well of love, kindness, or mercy will eventually run dry, because I can only offer a feeble, human supply. When I try to do this with any kind of strength or striving on my own, the result is always resentment, frustration, or exhaustion. 

It is only when I open myself up to receive the Spirit – when I invite Him to work through me – that I can love or serve in any kind of steadfast, sacrificial way.

If I really believe that I am dust, I ought to know that I can do nothing good apart from Him. After all, we were designed to be dependent beings.  Just like God provided the Israelites with just enough manna for that day, God will provide us with exactly what we need.  He promises us this.  Then, when we receive His provision, we can recognize Him as the Giver - not any striving or manipulating of our own.  He receives the glory, attention, honor, and praise.

“I will not boast in anything,
No gifts, no power, no wisdom,
But I will boast in Jesus Christ,
His death and resurrection.”

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