A thought is just a thought, and a feeling is just a feeling.
Join me in a one-minute meditation. Sit or stand comfortably, breathing in and out regularly. Practice the skill of observation on yourself: focus on the sensation of breathing. What other physical sensations do you feel? What emotions are present within you? Engage all of your senses: do you smell, taste, or hear anything? After practicing the skill of observation in this way, the next natural step is to describe what you observed.
Like observation, description is a skill. It requires us to put our experiences into words, which means that we need a degree of separation from those experiences. We do this by sticking to the facts: who, what, when, and where (“I can feel my feet on the floor and my leg touching the chair”). Labeling a thought as just a thought (“My upcoming lesson just crossed my mind”) and a feeling as just a feeling (“I feel overwhelmed”) allows us to acknowledge our experiences without letting them overtake us. It also allows us to honestly observe our inner and outer state without any fear, guilt, or other negative emotional responses.
The aim of the practice of mindfulness is to observe and describe an experience without qualitative judgement (labeling it ‘good’ or ‘bad’). This applies both to ourselves and to others. Think about a masterclass situation, in which a student is playing for a teacher as others watch. The most effective masterclasses I’ve seen involve a teacher honestly observing and objectively describing what they hear and see, rather than making a value judgement on the performance or the player. “I had difficulty hearing your articulations” is vastly different than “your articulations were messy.” We all know that the latter scenario happens. But a precise, honest description often opens the door for interaction and constructive criticism. As musicians, we hone our senses (hearing in particular) to such a high degree that we should strive to be able to describe what we perceive without using judgmental language.
In the Practice Room
Take five minutes out of your practice session to observe and describe yourself without judgement.
Sit or stand comfortably, grounding yourself through your feet and legs, breathing steadily.
Start by observing and describing your breath, reciting mentally “inhale … exhale … etc.”
Prepare to play an easy scale, continuing your mental description: “I’m raising my violin … now I’m raising my bow …”
As you play, keep describing the process mentally: “I’m playing a C … I’m playing a D.” Try to remain completely engaged in the acts of observing and describing, and when your attention wavers, calmly bring it back.
When you are finished playing, start by saying to yourself “I noticed …” What did you notice in your playing? If it helps, write down what you observed in the most objective way possible. For example, “I played an E-flat instead of an E-natural,” or “I felt the muscles in my left shoulder become more tense.” If you noticed any thoughts or feelings, write those as well. The object of the exercise is not to change any of these observations, but simply to make them, separate from any judgement. Take the phrase “I noticed …” from this exercise into the rest of your practice session.
The practice of mindfulness is rooted in an awareness of and engagement with the present moment. Exercises like the practice meditation above can provide us with a helpful “reset button” in the practice room. It may be impossible to continue with such a detailed level of observation and description as you move beyond scales into études or solo repertoire. That is completely natural. The act of noticing your attention wandering, or of noticing judgmental language in your self-descriptions, is part of the practice. The fact that you noticed it at all is enough for today.