Things I’ve Learned This Year: 2022 Edition part 1

Hi friends! I realize the last thing I wrote was the Things I’ve Learned: 2021 Edition, so apologies for being MIA this year. Honestly, this year flew by, and as I write this, I can hardly believe how fast time has gone. I started writing this post, and realized that there was so much I wanted to include. This has been a big year with a lot of introspection and great conversations, and I’m excited to share with you all the little bits of knowledge I’ll be taking with me into the new year. This year, I’m doing something a little different and splitting up this post into a part 1 and a part 2. Here’s part 1!

And if you’re just joining me, you can check out my Things I’ve Learned This Year: 2021 Edition as well. Let’s get to it ;)

The mind forgets but the body remembers. Listening to your body and how your body feels is something that I only recently started to see being encouraged. For such a long time, it was always “Push through the pain,” or “You are in control of your body,” or something to the effect where you ignore the cues that your body gives you, and instead will yourself to do whatever is you think you need to do. Sometimes when your body feels tense, or you have a gut feeling that you can’t shake, or your body feels tired — you should listen to those cues. You should listen to what your body is telling you, instead of pushing through. I think a lot of us feel guilt when we listen to the cues our body gives us, because those aren’t a concrete enough reason for us to give ourselves a break. Taking a sick day when our body just feels tired, even though we’re not actually ill, or canceling plans because we’re just not feeling up to it that day — that can feel like a copout, or an excuse. And we can feel guilty for giving our bodies a break when we don’t seem to have a valid enough excuse for doing so. I think we often feel like we need to be absolutely dying before we can take a sick day, or before we can cancel plans, or before we stop that last workout or lap. It’s funny how society has conditioned us to believe this. And it’s funny how society has taught us to frown upon people who DO listen to their bodies — who DO take that sick day when they’re feeling tired, who DO give themselves a break instead of pushing through the pain. Society says, “look at those people, look at how weak they are.” But it’s not a weakness to listen to your body and honor its boundaries and its limits. The best way to show your body that you respect it, that you love it, is by doing this. And respecting your body, its boundaries, and its limits — that is the first step in learning how to assert your own boundaries with other people. How can you set boundaries with others if you can’t even honor the boundaries your own body sets?

We really need to stop glorifying suffering. I am so sick of this one. And I see this mentality a lot with men who often think that the drill sergeant approach is the only effective one, which is absolutely not true. To stop glorifying suffering goes right along with listening to your body and the cues it gives you. I remember seeing a music producer talk about how they’d do 10-hour vocal recording sessions with their artists, and just keep pushing their artists physically, mentally, etc. I’m all for stretching yourself creatively and pushing yourself to think outside the box and outside your comfort zone. But pushing yourself vocally in that way, for that extended period, is one of those things where the “just because you can, doesn’t mean you should” proverb applies. Just because you manage make it through a 10-hour vocal session, doesn’t mean it was the best method, nor does it mean that that’s a thing you can or should do regularly. Your voice is a part of your body, and your body can get tired. Honestly, vocal sessions should go up to 3 hours max, maybe 4. But past that point, you’re just getting diminishing returns. I’ve also spoken with other musicians who talk about their own self-taught vocal training — how they’d push their voices until it felt like their vocal cords were about to pop. First off, there are no nerve endings in the vocal cords, and secondly, if you feel like your voice is about to give out, you should probably stop what you’re doing. I don’t know why so many people think that the only way to progress and improve is by pushing yourself to the absolute limit and nearly injuring yourself — or, actually injuring yourself and then recovering. (Do those people not understand what vocal polyps are? Vocal hemorrhages? Vocal nodules?) And those people spread that ideology to other people, which is so harmful. If you are not a person who specializes in training that specific skill — in this example, if you’re not a voice specialist — you have no business telling other people to push themselves or hurt themselves, and telling other people that the pain is part of their growth. That is absolute utter bullshit.

Rest is a part of your progress. My friend Laura Mustard (who’s a great musician with the best sense of humor) talks a lot about her motto of “rest and play.” And I love that so much. The whole idea is to take an approach of rest and play — when learning a skill, for example, treat it like play. Low stakes, no pressure, just exploring and enjoying the discovery. If you make a mistake or struggle with something, treat it like new information that can guide what you learn, rather than beating yourself up. And rest when your body wants to, when your body tells you to. Acknowledge that rest is just as much a part of learning and progress as the actual doing of the skill. Rest IS doing. You’ll hear physical therapists and fitness trainers often talk about how your body doesn’t actually build muscle WHILE you train — it builds muscle while you’re recovering from your training. Rest is a crucial part of physical fitness and muscle-building. And rest is a crucial part of any kind of progress in any skill. Sometimes, the best thing I do for my songwriting is to rest and take a break from it. Your brain needs breaks in order to work and allow you to find new ways of thinking creatively. So don’t neglect rest. Prioritize rest.

Learn the difference between the cues coming from your body, and coming from your mind. Your body tells you if you’re unsafe; your mind signals discomfort. I used to think that “if it’s not a hell yes, it’s a no” was the best, most foolproof way to guide my decisions. And in some cases, it still is. But honestly, there are things that are not a hell yes, that should still not be a no. I think the difference is knowing what feels uncomfortable versus what is unsafe. Unsafe would be not listening to your body when it gives you cues of pain or fatigue. Unsafe would be not listening to your body when you get a gut feeling while you’re walking somewhere. But you might feel uncomfortable and afraid right before going onstage to perform. And that’s ok. You’re still safe, in that scenario. But performing requires you to be vulnerable, and that’s a scary thing. Telling someone how you feel — that also requires you to be vulnerable, which is scary. But it’s not unsafe. Leaving a toxic, emotionally abusive relationship— that’s uncomfortable, that’s scary, and that may not always be a “hell yes.” But that also doesn’t mean it’s a no. And it might the best thing you ever do. Fear can be a really healthy thing — it keeps us safe. But sometimes we conflate safety with comfort. And those two things don’t always coexist. I’ve found that being unsafe is something that you feel in your body. But being uncomfortable is something you think (or overthink) in your head. Feeling unsafe is something primal; it’s instinctual. But feeling uncomfortable because you’re afraid of rejection, or you’re afraid of what other people might think — that’s more a product of social conditioning, of being afraid to be vulnerable in a society that has taught us to repress and hide our emotions. Discomfort doesn’t feel good, but it’s something you can sit with. Feeling anxiety is uncomfortable, but sitting with and accepting the discomfort is the only way to let the anxiety pass. So when in doubt — if your body feels unsafe, listen to it. If your mind feels afraid of rejection or ridicule — do it scared.

Emotions are like non-places. A big lesson for me this year was learning to be ok with emotions I previously perceived as negative. I used to be afraid of those emotions. I wouldn’t let myself fully feels those emotions. But we need to be able to feel the full spectrum of our emotions — we’re not fully human if we don’t. And no emotions are truly negative. They all have their purpose and their place. It’s like that movie Inside Out. If you avoid sadness, you don’t get to truly feel joy. Sometimes sadness is what gets you back to joy. We feel a range of different emotions for a reason — because we need all of them. They’re what make us human. And we need to realize that our emotions aren’t us. We are not our pain, we are not our grief, we are not our sadness. And so, I’ve learned this year that emotions are like non-places. French anthropologist Marc Augé defines the idea of a non-place as a space of transience, a crossroads of human relations — in direct contrast to a place, which is relational and concerned with identity. A place can define us. A place holds significance to us. But a non-place doesn’t. A non-place can be anywhere — like a train station, an airport — a space we pass through, where we remain anonymous, where we have fleeting interactions with others — but it’s all transitory, and we don’t stay there. We pass through our emotions the same way we pass through places of transience, and then we move on. They don’t stick with us forever. They’re impermanent. And they don’t define us. They leave us just as easily as they arrive. So it’s ok to feel our emotions. It’s ok to go through them, to pass through them, because we will come out the other side just fine.

You don’t have to turn your passion into your career. I do still think that the best way to spend your time is to do things you’re passionate about. But for a long time, I thought that the only way to do that was to turn your passion into your job. And as I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that this is just not true. The idea that you have to turn your passion into your day job is pretty much capitalism packaged in a way that’s easier to swallow. “You still have to work, but if it’s work you love, then it won’t feel like work.” (Is there a scenario that doesn’t involve selling your labor? ’Cause that’s the one I want.) The truth is, when you attach money to something, it changes your relationship with that thing. If you’re an artist and you decide to do art full-time, as your job — your main goal is not just to create art you love; your main goal is now also to make money. So money becomes a big driving factor in the art you create. Money becomes a driving factor in the artistic decisions you make; in the career decisions you make. Additionally, making your art your career doesn’t automatically mean you get to fully focus on your art — because you now also have to learn the business side of things, and marketing, and SEO, and legal, and a whole bunch of other things that are separate from the actual creating of your art. And creative risk-taking becomes creative calculated risk-taking. There’s more at stake if something new you try doesn’t land with the audience you worked so hard to cultivate. Because this is now your job, and you need to get paid. Because you need to pay your bills, and you need to eat. There’s a new pressure on the art you create — because it needs to now also support you financially. And some people are ok with that pressure; some people are ok with their relationship to their art changing; some people have a different relationship with their art to begin with. Everybody’s different, and what works for one person may not work for someone else. Monetizing your passion won’t necessarily be the magic solution to all your problems. And a dream job is still a job.

Turning your passion into your career is not always the best thing in the world. And having a day job to support your passion is not always the worst thing in the world. Sometimes, if you can find a day job that works for you — having a day job to support your passion can feel great. You get to still do what you love, without the pressure of monetizing it. You can experiment with your passion. You have freedom. You’re not beholden to what will sell. You have the income to buy great gear or supplies. You have the assurance of benefits like healthcare. And if you find the right day job, one that doesn’t drain you, you still have the energy to work at your passion after work hours. Sometimes, it’s just a matter of finding the right day job.

I still have a day job. And I actually really like my day job for what it is. I used to think that the only way I could legitimately call myself an artist and a songwriter was if being an artist/songwriter was my full-time job. And now I’m realizing that there’s more than one way to be an artist. There’s more than one way to be a songwriter. You are not less of an artist if you have a day job. Because you are not your job. And your job is not you. Your job is only one part of your life. And whether you turn your passion into your career, or you have a day job that supports your passion — if you define yourself solely by what you do for money, you will never truly feel satisfied with who you are. You have to define yourself as more than your job, as more than what you do. Human beings are not just one thing. You’re not just an artist, or just an accountant, or just a chef. You’re a bunch of different things. You’re an artist, but you’re also maybe a cool aunt. You’re also maybe a traveler. You’re also maybe a photographer. You’re also maybe a programmer. You can be more than one thing. You don’t have to pick one thing you love and funnel all your energy into it. I think everyone read that same “jack of all trades, master of none” quote and took it way too far without reading the rest of that quote. The entire quote is actually this: “A jack of all trades but a master of none, is still better than a master of one.”

Embrace having multiple passions. Embrace being more than one thing. Embrace that hyphen life. Musician-writer-editor-composer, or whatever your different roles may be. Because guess what? The hyphens are what make you unique. The combination of all the different things that you love to do, that make up who you are — that is something that’s only you. (And for what it’s worth, nearly every musician I’ve collaborated with throughout my music career has also had a day job. Being an artist with a day job is much more common than you might think. And all of those artists are making incredible music and doing wonderful things. The day job does not limit you nearly as much as you might have been led to believe.)

Part 2 coming soon! :)