Don't Blame the Instrument!
The performance went badly. There’s no other way to spin it. The piano was sub par and the playing halting and stilted. She made it through, my former adult student, but just barely. But what stuck with me all these years later wasn’t the relief I saw on her face at having survived a difficult performance, it was a statement she made in her first lesson following the recital. In it, we were discussing the performance and I mentioned that the state of the piano might have contributed to her troubles. She agreed, but then said,
“That may be true, but I won’t blame the instrument.” At the surprise on my face, she continued, “When I was a competitive gymnast we were taught that no matter what happened in competition, never blame the equipment, because if you do, you learn nothing about what you may have done to contribute to the mistakes.”
Don’t blame the instrument. That statement has stayed with me, a refrain as I’ve navigated my own battles with unfriendly pianos, unlucky situations, vicious colleagues, the difficult music industry, and life itself. Don’t blame the instrument/situation/other person/music industry/societal injustices/life circumstances. Accept the facts and circumstances, but own my own reaction, my own culpability, or my own refusal to accept the reality of the world as it is. Why? Because to settle for easy blame is to lose the chance to learn a more nuanced truth. And on a deeper level, placing blame outside of myself may massage my ego in the moment, but it sets me up for a very dangerous way of thinking—that of being a victim.
I struggle with this. In many ways, I could hold Master Classes in blaming other people, circumstances, instruments, etc. for painful moments in my life. Thankfully, I also have personal examples of people who refuse to think like victims, even in harrowing circumstances.They remind me to change my perspective when I start whinging and whining. They show me that choosing not to blame is the most empowering thing I can do. This isn’t pretending something didn’t or isn’t happening—that would be insanity!—but soberly accepting the facts of a situation while not getting trapped in life-destroying victimhood. This choice may not change the situation, but it changes me.
Unbeknownst to her, when she spoke of not blaming the instrument, my student was echoing a Buddhist slogan. As author and teacher Pëma Chödrön once wrote,
“There’s a slogan in the mahayana teachings that says, “Drive all blames into oneself.” The essence of this slogan is, “When it hurts so bad, it’s because I am hanging on so tight.” It’s not saying that we should beat ourselves up. It’s not advocating martyrdom. What it implies is that pain comes from holding so tightly to having it our own way and that one of the main exits we take when we find ourselves uncomfortable, when we find ourselves in an unwanted situation or an unwanted place, is to blame.
This slogan is a helpful and interesting suggestion that we could begin to shift that deep-seated, ancient, habitual tendency to hang on to having everything on our own terms. The way to start would be, first, when we feel the tendency to blame, to try to get in touch with what it feels like to be holding on to ourselves so tightly.”
Refusal to blame is deeply counter-cultural. We’re surrounded by people who have laundry lists of grievances, and those of us in the arts are particularly susceptible to embracing victim mentality. We’re trying to make a living in a society that doesn’t value the arts. We’re struggling to find our way in an industry that offers few roadmaps or guarantees of success (or financial stability), regardless of how much training and education we get. Various “isms” permeate our world—racism, sexism, ageism, etc.—and we’re faced with the hard truth we were told when we were kids: life isn’t fair.
But victimhood is a dangerous place to seek comfort. That’s because feeling victimized leads to one of two things—helplessness or rage. Helplessness guarantees that we give up trying before we even start. After all, what’s the point when (fill in the blank) is happening? Rage causes us to direct our creative energy either inward (depression) or take it out on those around us. Both states narrow our focus to ourselves and our problems. Neither state teaches us to face obstacles with creative curiosity. Instead, victimhood drains us of the vital energy we need to make the beautiful music the world needs to hear. We give up. We stew in our sense of injustice. This doesn’t transform anything (internally or externally) for the better; instead, all that does is keep us trapped in our own misery.
We have a choice. As Viktor E. Frankl, an Austrian psychiatrist who survived a Nazi concentration camp, wrote in his famous book Man’s Search for Meaning,
“The one thing you can’t take away from me is the way I choose to respond to what you do to me. The last of one’s freedoms is to choose one’s attitude in any given circumstance.”
We have it within our power to step away from blame and embrace our inner strength and dignity. Doing so unleashes our creativity and compassion. We find our humor and our shared humanity. We stop thinking about “I-me-mine” and step into the big, colorful world of “us.” We let go. We lighten up. And we learn to create music and lives with the freedom of a child.