During a recent band practice, my mind began to wander, as it sometimes will when you’re playing the same song for the 100th time. I started thinking of future article ideas: “Maybe I should research and write something about mindfulness and music,” I thought, and promptly forgot my place in the song, flubbing the next few notes.
At its most basic, “mindfulness” is an awareness of yourself and your surroundings. In a mindful state, daydreaming is supplanted by presence, and attention to the here and now. It can also refer to specific meditative processes, like those popularized by Dr. Jon Kabat-Zinn, founding director of the University of Massachusetts Medical School Stress Reduction Clinic. In the late 1970s, Kabat-Zinn began teaching Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction (MBSR), a course based on meditation and light yoga, as a way to help patients deal with stress, pain, and illness.
For some, the idea of meditation summons a range of fears — of anything from religious indoctrination, to having to adopt a new, amorphously “spiritual” lifestyle that will require relentless trips to Whole Foods and the purchase of incense.
In practice, thankfully, mindfulness is a much more grounded process than one might expect, and throughout the 21st century, scientists have studied the positive benefits of meditation on both mental and physical health. They are only just now scratching the surface of meditation’s effect on creative and performance-based pursuits like music.
Mindless Self Indulgence
“Mindfulness allows you to develop a certain detachment from the crazy, hilarious, sometimes brilliant workings of the mind, and find spaces between thinking, from which true wisdom can arise,” says Rolf Hind in an email exchange.
Hind is a classical pianist and composer who has performed at Carnegie Hall, the Sydney Opera house, and at numerous European new music festivals. He’s also an advocate for mindfulness as a powerful addition to the musician’s toolbox.
In 2011, Hind wrote an article for The Guardian titled “Head First: Mindfulness and Music” about his personal experience with meditation and his efforts to introduce an MBSR course modeled after the work of Kabat-Zinn to London’s Guildhall School of Music and Drama.
Hind says that the value of mindfulness for musicians can be twofold. First, it helps to unlock creativity, and then helps the body and mind put that creativity into action in the most productive way possible.
“The mind is no longer tightened around argument and its processes, and truths consequently emerge. As a composer, this could be a decision about the shape of a piece, how to deal with a tricky corner, or a more fundamental feeling about what I might want to be writing next. As a pianist, the process is perhaps less obvious — I become more relaxed and focused, physically and spatially aware, and so I make much better use of my time, approach problems directly, and stop when I get tired or tight.”
Hind uses a range of mindfulness techniques in his daily life: “Body scans” that help him recognize physical sensations and establish a deeper connection between his mental and physical presence, “walking meditation”, for when he walks out on stage to perform, and a “50/50” technique that divides awareness between internal sensations and external surroundings.
“As a listener to music, I feel more responsive—as opposed to reactive—and less judgmental when I’m listening with a meditative head on. So, rather than always asking ‘Do I like this?’ [my] question becomes ‘What is this?’ Obviously that will change the way you play and compose too.”
This idea, about the importance of silencing the reactive, over-bearing (and often sour) inner-critic that cripples our creative efforts, is a recurring theme throughout many texts on creative performance.
In her book about writing, Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott likens the litany of negative voices she hears in her head to a radio station, which she refers to, charmingly, as “Radio KFKD”. She advises the reader to breathe deep and simply turn off the station. In Effortless Mastery, pianist Kenny Werner’s classic treatise on learning to play music without fear and self-criticism, the author tells us to let go of the “little” or “ego” mind, and embrace the “intuitive mind.” (Some copies of the book come with a guided meditation CD dedicated to this goal). In The Inner Game of Tennis (a book that has been adopted and adapted by some musicians) instructor W. Timothy Gallwey refers to two selves: The thinking ego self (“Self 1”) and an observing, naturally learning self (“Self 2”):