Friend,
In last week's e-zine, I mentioned that I would be sending an additional email to solicit feedback on how I can better serve you. Everything was ready to go, and then...
I got a wicked cold.
For the past five days, this was me - click here. (Spoiler alert - it's hilarious). And while I am still recovering from my "man-cold," I shall soldier on. My heroic bravery must be pretty inspiring.
As I returned to (mostly) normal, I finished the survey, wrote the cover copy, and started on this week's e-zine - pretty straightforward and standard stuff.
Except, there was an underlying reason for the survey, and I wanted to share it with you: hence, this e-zine.
-Scott
Space, Grace, and My Man Cold
Since the start of the year, I've noticed that I have been slipping. Not tripping or falling, although I do a fair amount of that; I am slipping back into old pre-pandemic habits, and not the good ones associated with hygiene, but the bad ones associated with workload.
I have been working harder and longer hours than in recent years. At one point, during a particularly frenetic week in January, I was at my computer past 11:00 pm four nights in a row and proceeded to work on both Saturday and Sunday of that weekend.
That may have been my normal at one time, but that does not make it normal.
I know I'm not alone; you work WAY harder than I do. I am also fully aware of how blessed my life is. My home is filled with love and health, and I am passionate about my work. Like you, I am fortunate to be in a place and profession where I have meaning and make a difference and have impact in someone's life.
But, am I?
Am I making a difference? Am I having an impact?
I am certainly putting in the time and effort, but effort doesn't always correlate to impact and time does not necessarily equal yield? In trying to understand that, I tried to better understand what I was doing and who I was doing it for. After much thought, and a fair amount of coffee, I realized that through all of the long hours, I was doing what was needed, but not what I should. Need is what others tell me, should is what does the most good. In other words:
Need versus should. Value versus volume.
Purpose versus product.
Me versus them. External versus internal.
I strive daily to meet my deadlines, complete my tasks, and clear my inbox. In fact, my Drill Sergeant of a father (no, really he was a Marine Drill Sergeant) drilled work ethic into me and my brothers. Well, me and one of my brothers. But, work ethic alone doesn't mean much. You can work tirelessly to dig a hole, but if a hole wasn't needed, what was it all for. I needed to better understand not the volume of the work, but the purpose and impact of it all. What good does it do, and whom does it help? How is the needle moved forward by my efforts?
Don't get me wrong, I love the endorphin rush of checking things off my to-do lists, but the thing that I will most remember about the pandemic (other than fear of not having enough toilet paper), was the feeling that despite having no income, I felt like I was providing value to my friends, colleagues, and the entirety of the profession? That feeling meant something and kept me going.
But lately, as things continued to return to normal, so did I. But, as I have said before, we didn't go through all of that to be "normal." I want to be better. I want to return to better.
Are you feeling it too? Do you feel yourself sliding into old bad habits? Are you staying just a little bit later at work? Are you checking email from home or on the weekends more frequently?
None of this is bad, as long as we remember the lessons we learned from the past.
The pandemic, and its immediate after-effects, taught us the lessons of grace and space. Space away from the life we had been living, and grace to be okay with something less than perfection. The pandemic required space: remote learning, hybrid schedules, mitigation strategies, six feet apart, masks, etc, but more importantly, it forced us to step away from our roles and programs as we knew them to be, and rebuild and deliver them in a different way. Unpleasant and catastrophic as it was, the forced perspective made us realize what was important, mourn was was lost, and treasure what was returned.
It also gave us the opportunity to experience grace: the understanding that previous (musical) standards were unachievable and unattainable in the current environment and be ok with that. In a profession hyper obsessed with perfection and competition, we all gave ourselves some grace, permission to accept that participation, more than perfection, was the judges rubric and measuring stick during these turbulent times.
Like most of you, my perspective on music is evolving with time, age, and experience. To be clear, the pandemic (and raising two teenagers) has also influenced my views. I see the value of music now more than ever. However, I see it in different ways and spaces that I might not have seen if it were not for the pandemic. I don't want to lose sight of that.
So as I slip backward, I have to look backward and remember; grace and space.
What I learned from the past three years, is what has been slipping away from me in the past three months. So, recently I have been taking active steps to stop, widen my perspective, see the entirety of my space (things I am working on), and focus on projects with purpose. I will then attack them, free of the constraints of perfection, and the fear of what others want or think, and continue to do not just my best work, but my most valuable work.
Grace and space. For me. For you. And, most important, for your students.