Scuba diving has been on my bucket list for a long time. I grew up seeing my Dad and older brothers dive, and it's something I always knew I'd love. Brendan and I intended to get certified before our Honeymoon, but wedding planning got a little crazy, so we decided to wait until the Spring. We were happy to be joined by our friend Rob, who caught the scuba bug while on vacation in St. Croix.
The three of us took classes at Maryland Scuba Center in Annapolis, then drove to Crystal River, Florida, for checkout dives. Whenever I learn a new skill, it's tempting to compare it to learning music. After all, music is probably the thing I've spent most of my life working on. So here are four things I thought about during our long drive to Florida and back.
1. Gotta know the fundamentals.
In scuba, understanding the fundamentals can save your life. Properly controlling your ascent, knowing how to communicate with hand signals...we studied, reviewed and were tested on these things. Going over something repeatedly makes it that much easier for a panicking brain to access later. This makes me think of all the time musicians spend practicing scales, intervals, and flow studies. There are so many reasons we work on these things, but I think one of the most important is so we can fall back on the cornerstones of playing during difficult moments. That could be a memory slip in the middle of a performance, it could mean performance anxiety threatening your cool, or it could be when the chops aren't feeling right and it's time to simplify and go back to basics. The fundamentals can save us.
2. It's a good idea to practice performing.
Rob, Brendan and I completed several pool dives on the way to earning Open Water Certification. Much of the pool time was spent familiarizing ourselves with the equipment and experiencing, first-hand, the things we learned in the textbook. The Dive Master, Michael, also tested us along the way, checking off our performance of required skills. During our check-out dives, we were asked to perform these skills again, but in an open-water environment.
When we first rolled off the boat into the murky water of the Crystal River, it was disorienting. Visibility was poor, and there were dozens of new variables to concern ourselves with, (such as would we see any elusive manatees)? I was suddenly grateful for the "practice tests" we did in the pool. Without Michael's frequent evaluations, I suspect the final dives would have been quite disorienting. Instead, everything about the check-out dives was identical to what we did in the pool, except the environment.
You can help yourself alot if you take the time to imitate the conditions of performance in your practice. For me, this often means playing for understanding loved ones. It's the same reason we do dress-rehearsals—give yourself a chance to work out the kinks and acclimate your body to the bizarre effects of playing brass music live. Practicing is conditioning, and when it comes to performance, you want your time onstage to feel as familiar and well-prepared as possible. The more comfortable you feel, the less you will be fazed by the inevitable surprises, (like a manatee swimming by during your cadenza).
3. NEVER STOP BREATHING!
It's the number one rule in scuba, and it's kind of an unofficial rule of brass playing. When your body starts to panic, it naturally wants to conserve air. If you hold your breath while you ascend, the air in your lung expands and can cause an air embolism. You can straight up die if you panic, hold your breath, and try to haul ass to the surface. Scary!
Ever feel like a performance is dying a slow death because you can't catch your breath? It's a terrible feeling, and can be brought on by nerves. While I don't have all the answers about dealing with performance anxiety, I do know that careful preparation can help. Usually you can identify places in the music where you neglect to breathe properly. I often make notes in my music to help me remember what kind of a breath I need to take, or how long I need it to last to make a phrase. I often work with students who don't plan their breathing spots. Either they do it differently every time, which means they haven't thought about the music enough, or they usually breath in the same spot, but it becomes a struggle under duress. Marking in breaths and consciously practicing making phrases can dramatically improve your success in performance. It's all about making breaths part of the music.
4. It's more fun with a buddy!
The point of performing music is to connect with others. Although scuba seems like a soloistic activity (just me, a tank & the fishies), it's actually so important to have that second person there. It can save your life, but it also enriches the experience. You want someone there as a witness when you high five a shark!
When it's not going so well, performing can make you feel extremely isolated. You spend all this time alone practicing. Then you get on a stage and the fourth wall seems four feet thick. When nerves take over and you are focused on holding it together, the last thing you are doing is reaching out to the crowd and connecting with them. This agitation can even bring a warped perception of how the audience is responding to your performance. Ever get that sinking feeling that everybody hates your piece and can't wait to sneak out of the hall as soon as possible? I mean, it's possible the audience actually feels that way, but it's highly unlikely.
One of the reasons I like chamber music is that it has a buddy-system built in. You are automatically sharing the experience, good or bad, with another human, and that is powerful. Shared preparation, shared performance, group solidarity—it all helps brings you down to earth. If I can't play with a friend onstage, I like to think of the concert-goers as my partners in the music. If I can open up and invite them into my world for a few minutes, everything inevitably goes smoother and is much more fun. It's not easy to do. It takes vulnerability, and enough preparation to get my head out of the stand. I often miss the mark, but it's always my goal.
And it is so worth it for those moments of connection. It's magical—kind of like breathing underwater.