A musical meditation

It’s nearly 6pm on a beautiful Sunday evening. I have completed most of the ‘essential’ tasks on my to-do list for today. One task is staring up at me: ‘practice saxophone.’

I am trying to think of excuses. I’m not in the mood. I have too much on my mind. Maybe I should do something more productive. What if it disturbs the neighbours? What if it upsets the cat? I can do it later! My saxophone sits waiting to be played. Even typing this is a form of procrastination. I love playing and yet so often I can’t bring myself to do it.

I had my first lesson around five years ago, at the age of 32. You are never too old to learn a new skill after all. In my first lesson I managed to set up the saxophone and blow into it and make a squeaky flatulent sound. In my second lesson I produced my first note! It was a triumph! I steadily improved. I learned to read music and I found something just for me. Here I found something that isn’t about work. It isn’t about getting up on stage. It is about pure enjoyment. It is learning for the sake of learning and playing for the sheer joy of it. But because it has no purpose other than itself, I can often talk myself out of playing. Why is it that I still believe work is more important than play?

As I pick it up I guiltily notice a light coating of dust. Has it been that long since I played or that long since I dusted? I place the strap around my neck and catch sight of my own reflection in the window as I stand ready to practice a scale. I love the way I look holding my saxophone. I look at my reflection and imagine myself a far more accomplished player than I actually am. There is something really cool about the saxophone and as I look at my reflection I see myself in a smoky bar surrounded by whiskey drinking jazz enthusiasts.

As I play my first note, my cat, Sheema raises her head from where she had been sleeping in a sunbeam. She looks at me with a mixture of horror and disgust and skulks away, finding somewhere as far away from earshot as possible. Everyone’s a critic! And yet once that first note has been played nothing else matters.

Half an hour later and I am engrossed. It turns out that it is very difficult to read music and move my fingers in the right way and move my mouth in the right way and worry at the same time. As I play, my mind becomes still. I guess that’s what they call flow.

I have been a meditator for around 20 years and I have taught mindfulness and meditation for around 14 years. So I know about working with the mind. I know all about managing distraction. I know about watching thoughts arise and letting them go. I also know how difficult this can be. So it turns out that I have found myself a musical meditation. By focusing on my hands, my mouth and the music I quieten the mental chatter.

In practicing the saxophone I am also practicing the attitudes of mindfulness. I practice the attitude of non-striving. The harder I try to get it perfect, the more likely I am to squeak horribly or make a simple mistake. I practice the attitudes of trust and letting go. I trust that my fingers know what they are doing and I let go of over thinking, which usually causes me to stumble and make mistakes. I practice acceptance - acceptance that some pieces are easier than others and some days are easier than others and, crucially, I practice non-judgement. I have learned not to beat myself up for not being perfect

In playing the saxophone I have learned to enjoy an activity for its own sake. I have learned that it is ok not to be productive all the time. I have learned that time spent joyfully playing music, however imperfectly, is time well spent.