As long as I’ve known her, Neblina has been timid. When we had an upright grand piano, it took months for her to work up the courage to climb on top of it. After we got married, and she moved into our new apartment, she hid in the closet for days, only gradually venturing out.

So when we moved to La Crosse and saw that she had a new boldness, it was a surprise. In our new apartment, there was no timidity. She let us know that every square inch was part of her kingdom. Ascending seven-foot bookcases was no great feat for our newly-enthroned warrior queen. But the most profound change was going outside.

In Minneapolis, Neblina did not go outside. We let her out on the deck once; it was stressful for all parties. But here we’ve been letting her out more frequently and for longer. Sometimes, she makes us nervous with her boldness because she seems to want to jump down from our second story patio and attack the birds and bugs below. She walks right up to the edge, and sometimes it seems like she’s going to go over it. She is no longer risk-averse.

Last week I wrote about discipline as an essential part of growth. This week I want to highlight another one: risk.

Growth requires risk.

Risk is what stretches us beyond what we know. Risk expands our view of what is possible. And what is possible for us.

One of my favorite conversations to have as a music teacher is the “recital conversation.” A student is afraid of performing in front of other people. They are nervous about playing for strangers, but also their family and friends. I encourage them to try it. Usually, they are so glad they did.

I think all of us have some risk, large or small, that we know would help us grow. Moving has been risky for Jenna and me, respectively and collectively, and we have already seen growth. Jenna is being pushed harder than ever in her classes, but she’s been learning how to be successful. I have the opportunity and responsibility to get up each day and make something productive that will provide for us, and the last week has given me some good leads.

But it can be hard to distinguish between growth-inducing risks and recklessness.

This is why we need a mentor.

Neblina is not left to wander on our deck alone. We watch her and give her frantic feedback when she is about to make a leap she should not.

My students are not alone when they perform a recital. We select a piece within their ability, and I frequently accompany them on stage.

In my pursuit of building this business, I have learned so much from books, podcasts, blogs, and other resources. They are my virtual mentors.

So here are two questions:

1. What risk should you be taking to help you grow?

2. Who is a mentor that will help you?

Last week I missed a post, after only three weeks.

I get energized by new perspectives, ideas, and experiences. By expanding my periphery, I enjoy a fuller, more informed view of the world.

But routines are anathema to me. They are devoid of excitement, fun, and newness.

They are also how growth happens.

I think most of us struggle with discipline to varying degrees. Even the most disciplined people I know have areas of their lives they wish they could grow.

I have had extremely bright students, successful in their careers and family lives ask me for lessons. It was not because they weren’t intelligent, driven people who could utilize resources and teach themselves. Having a person hold them accountable to practice was a strong motivator to work on their craft.

I often tell students that consistency, if only for five minutes a day, is better than cramming in an hour of practice right before a lesson. Establishing a habit of intentional, regular practice is the best way to progress as a musician.

This is true of life as well as music. I’ve been learning this during the last month. Since I was in third grade, I have been overweight to some degree. During most of my twenties, I carried between fifteen and twenty extra pounds. Since moving here to La Crosse, I’ve created (and for the most par followed) routines to help me become healthy and fit, and I am now three pounds away from my goal weight. I am seeing the fruit of a month of intentional, focused work.

But it hasn't been a perfect process. One Sunday a few weeks ago, a couple we met at church took us out for lunch. I ate a meal that on its own was more than my daily allotted calories. I felt so sick for the rest of the day. Some days I actually gained weight. But I've kept up my routine. And now I’m seeing it pay off. I believe I can apply this to other areas of my life.

As I build my studio here, I’ve decided to start teaching online lessons, allowing me to reach more people. I currently have seven students, and I need this little reminder to keep working at building my online presence. I need to continue my rhythm of sending out quotes even though most of them don’t turn into anything. Building a business is hard, and it will take my creativity and curiosity to succeed. But it will also require intentional, regular work. This blog is one way for me to strengthen these muscles.

What about you?

What is one goal you’ve been trying to reach?

What small discipline will help you get closer?

I would love to hear from you!

If you read last week’s post, you know that I just moved to Wisconsin for Jenna’s grad program. For the first time since I was thirteen, I don’t have any immediate obligations on most days. I have a few students on Mondays at a local music store, but other than that the only things that occupy my time are my whims. I try to stay busy. I’ve been keeping the apartment clean. I’ve hung out with our cat, and we’ve become better friends than I thought I would ever be with a cat. I’ve read a lot. I’ve even caught up on all of the podcasts in my queue (unheard of).

Yesterday I was listening to a podcast. The interviewee talked about how they sometimes confuse “activity” with “purpose,” especially as a way to stay away from uncomfortable feelings.

I glanced at my computer screen and saw:

- A Wikipedia article about Imperial Chinese history

- A music notation file of my instrumental arrangement of “Rocketman” by Elton John, which I am planning to make a video of for my soon to launch Youtube channel (shameless plug)

- The first few guitar tracks of that arrangement in my recording software

- A list of emails I need to respond to

- An empty word processing document that has since become this blog post

In my other browser (I had two open!), I saw several links to jobs with the United States Postal Service.

I was busy, but I was using my activity to distract me from my frustration.

I’ve applied for dozens of jobs that either didn’t pan out or are still in process. Meanwhile, our savings has been slowly depleting. I feel torn between the urgency of getting something and longing for purpose in my work.

I love creating content, building relationships, teaching, mentoring, and learning. I am independent. I haven’t worked for “the Man” for a good five years and I don’t miss it. This kind of work energizes me. It is also hard to find in La Crosse.

I am beginning to feel like I need to take whatever I can get and “hustle.” I am happy to work really hard doing something I hate for less than I’m worth if it means Jenna can become a PA. Such work would be worthwhile, good for our family, and temporary.

But part of me feels left behind, forgotten, and aimless. Engaging that is uncomfortable, so I’d rather not. I’d rather be busy, distracted by activity.

All of this activity hasn’t yielded any substantive fruit, because it hasn’t been intentional or focused. It is hard to know what to focus on, though.

I believe that God is interested in my life, both the big picture and the minutia. The last few weeks have been a mental tug-of-war between waiting for revelation and trying to control my outcome through activity. In the past, my path has always become clear...eventually. I am trying to be patient and purposefully craft my days with that in mind, but it’s been a challenge much of the time.

This tension between activity and purpose applies to music as well. I often tell students and parents the amount of time they practice is not as important as how they practice. I say it’s even possible to practice wrong and be worse off than if you hadn’t practiced at all. As we practice, we rewire our brain, and these pathways become very difficult to overwrite. If you practice with purpose, this is wonderful! But it is counterproductive if you practice incorrectly.

I have a story I often tell to illustrate this point. When I started studying music in college, I had been playing the cello for about nine years. I thought I was pretty good. I was a music major, after all. In my first cello lesson, I had to relearn my bow grip, one of the fundamentals of playing. I spent months overwriting nine years of bad habits. It was tedious and frustrating. For my first recital, I played a foundational piece and was embarrassed I wasn’t performing something more advanced like my peers. My teacher said I shouldn’t be concerned about the difficulty of the music, but rather how I can best play it. He said most people would not know how easy or difficult it was, only how well I played it.

If growth is your objective, musically or otherwise, it will be helpful to slowly, purposefully, refine the right things the right way. Slow is smooth and smooth is fast. My job as a teacher is to remind my students of that, and occasionally myself.

I remember walking around St. Anthony Main and across the Stone Arch Bridge, going to Twins games; first at the Metrodome, and then Target Field. I remember visiting the Como Zoo and Conservatory, where my parents got engaged.

Minnesota is where I learned about the world, for good and ill.

I grew up in a multi-ethnic school dedicated to learning about each others’ differences. Every year, Evergreen Park Elementary would fold one thousand paper cranes in honor of the story of Sadako, a victim of the Hiroshima bombing, who wished for peace on Earth.

In April 1995, I saw the American flag at half staff for the first time. When I asked about it, my grandfather told me that a man had bombed a building, killing over a hundred people, including many children my age. He explained that sometimes, people do evil things.

I remember sitting in Ms. Roberts’ homeroom in sixth grade reading Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire when the news showed the twin towers of the World Trade Center precipitously falling in September 2001.

I went to college in St. Paul and worked at the UPS hub in Northeast Minneapolis. I learned about leadership, what it is and is not, and the difference it can make in the kind of world in which we live.

But thirteen days ago, I moved to a new state.

Barely.

La Crosse, Wisconsin is a border town along the East bank of the Mississippi River across from La Crescent, Minnesota on the West. Let’s call them my new “Twin Cities.” La Crosse is a city of roughly fifty thousand people. The economy largely centers around manufacturing, retail, health care, and higher education. The latter two drew me here. This week, Jenna started the Physician Assistant program at the University of Wisconsin- La Crosse. For the next twelve months, she will be studying anatomy, biochemistry, and pathology, learning the science of medicine. Then she’ll do twelve months of clinical rotations where she’ll get hands-on training to begin to hone her craft, her art. Acceptance to this program is the culmination of a decade of work.

It is my task to work so that she can do this. I spent my twenties in warehouses and auditoriums, coffee shops and studios. As a student, teacher, pastor, and musician, I had respect and relationships full of meaning and mutual growth. Now I must start over.

I recognize that on the spectrum of tumultuous life experiences one can have, mine is not extreme. As one father of a student of mine remarked upon hearing of our move, “It’s just La Crosse.” I’m not moving to another country. There is no language barrier. Indeed, I still live on the same river, 170 miles further south. I get to take my accumulated experiences and wisdom with me. I carry both my trials and blessings, my challenges and privileges. So maybe I’m not starting over. Like the river, I will embrace the changing conditions on the ground, seeking a path forward and trusting the process.

A few years ago, I encountered a TED Talk by Simon Sinek called “Start With Why” and his book of the same title. He challenges leaders to inspire the people around them by beginning with the purpose of their work (their “why”) rather than simply describing “what” and “how” they do what they do. This challenged me to distill the beliefs that drive my work. Here is what I came up with: 

“I seek to equip people to thrive” 

I was very intentional with my word choice. My goal is to give people the tools they need to grow holistically. In my role as a music teacher, I am not primarily interested in teaching notes, rhythms, and phrasing. That will happen, but it will come as a result of teaching discipline, listening, personal expression, and a plethora of other skills that music can sharpen and that have applications outside of music. Music is not the point. Growth is, and musical aptitude is a byproduct.

I believe that we are all on a journey of growth. I am going to be posting about my own journey each Friday. I hope that the things I’m learning and sharing help you in your music and in your life. Thanks for your readership!

Jared Sells