Oops! (Distracted at Carnegie Hall)
I feel wistful and sometimes sad knowing that I've already given my final performance of so many beloved works of music — and that I gave those performances without realizing at the time that they would be my last.
Luckily, there are other “lasts” I can see coming:
A few weeks ago I played the final Carnegie Hall concerts of my career. I’d prepared myself for a “big” experience — but I wasn’t quite sure what that would be, exactly. Big emotions? Big pressure?
It turns out that the “big” thing that occurred was this: perspective.
Perspective showed up that night in four ways:
TIME
Playing Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring under the bright lights at Carnegie Hall brought back vivid memories of the very first time I performed that piece. I was an 18-year-old undergrad principal flutist leading a section of much more experienced peers through one of the thorniest, most exhilarating pieces in the repertoire. Now, 30+ years and countless Rites of Spring later, I could see that although my very first performance and this final night at Carnegie were both important nights — each one was just a single night in the context of a long career.
(PS — all those decades of experience explain how I managed to play such a tricky piece with my mind wandering all over the place!)
WHO I AM
Present that night at Carnegie Hall were people who mattered to me — and from very different parts of my life. Generations of family members; current and former coaching clients (all from outside the arts, some attending a Carnegie Hall concert for the first time); new friends and lifelong friends; and of course all my BSO colleagues, including my husband. Sitting onstage it was so clear to me that I am more than just one thing, and that no one element of my life defines me. (This goes for you, too, by the way.)
SCALE
Looking out at those thousands of folks, imagining what they were seeing from their balcony seats helped me zoom out and get a different perspective. I suppose it’s possible to see myself in the center of that evening (at the center of the stage, highlighted under those bright lights) but at the same time I was also part of something so much bigger than me. Yes, I made an important contribution, but my contribution was just a small part of the whole.
FRESH EYES
I spent much of the concert wondering what the Rite of Spring would be like for those clients and younger family members, hearing it for the very first time. Would they like it? Find it provocative? Maybe just “meh”? Imagining their experiences allowed me to hear brand new things in this very familiar music.
Accessing all this new perspective was FUN. And valuable.
But what about the rest of the time? We can't exactly conjure up a final performance at Carnegie Hall (or whatever your version of that might be) every time we need to get some perspective.
Most of the time perspective is something we have to seek out, cultivate, and continually evaluate. (Assisting clients with this is a big part of my coaching work.)
If you’re seeking perspective, these questions can help:
What’s the view from the balcony? How can I work to see the big picture? Am I centering myself in a way that’s causing me to lose perspective? When I zoom out do proportions change?
What’s the significance of this over time? How will I feel about this in one day, one month, one year? (This question can be very useful in the context of personal relationships.)
What’s a fresh vantage point? Can I try to see this from an outside perspective? What am I assuming? Can I put myself in someone else’s shoes?
How does this fit into the larger context of who I am? Am I allowing this to define me in a way that's inaccurate or limiting? Do my priorities shift or become clearer when I take into account all the facets of who I am?