The self-forgiving musician
“If only.” Two of the saddest words in the English language. When they appear they proceed a list of vain regrets:…if only I’d made this decision rather than that one…if only I’d pursued a different path…if only I’d been born with more talent/a better family/a better temperament…if only (fill in the blank), I’d be the person or the musician I knew I was meant to be.
Any human being who lives long enough is plagued with their own haunting “if only” regrets. They’re the thoughts that buzz in our heads when we wake in the middle of the night and can’t get back to sleep. They’re the feelings of failure or inadequacy that haunt the choices we make today. Left unchecked, “if only” shipwrecks careers and lives as acceptance of what is gets swallowed up in the mud of what might have been.
None of us is immune, and those who have chosen careers in a profession as challenging as music are especially prone to the curse of “if only.” I’ve had conversations recently with extremely two successful pianists who touched on their own struggles to find self-forgiveness, and my own journey to accept who I am rather than who I wish I could be (as a musician and a human being) is one that has been lifelong. It’s hard. It’s hard to accept the mistakes of the past. It’s hard to accept that our lives and careers are different than what we dreamed they would be. It’s hard to live the truth of who we are rather than the fantasy of who we wish we were.
We say we want to be free of regrets but few people have the nerve to drop their “if only” statements. As painful as they are, there’s perceived safety in hanging on to these ideas because they provide an excuse as to why we aren’t moving forward with our lives. Rather than embrace the level or style of music we play well, we pine for what we’ll never truly grasp. Rather than build careers and lives around our true abilities, we keep wishing and hoping for some half-baked fantasy we’ve carried around most of our lives of what a “true” musician looks like. Rather than forgiving ourselves for bad choices, we let the shame of those actions (or inactions) keep us from trying something new. The end result? We stay stuck, living a twilight life that never really allows us to grow into our true selves.
Freedom from “if only” thoughts is found in self-forgiveness. But self-forgiveness isn’t a platitude that can be taped to the bathroom mirror. True and lasting self-forgiveness only arrives when we drop all the excuses and explanations we tell ourselves and facing the cold, hard truth about who we are, what we’ve done, and what we’ve left undone. We have to own our actions, inactions, half-truths, and limitations. And then we have to look compassionately and truthfully at what’s left when all the “if only” clutter has been swept away. That which remains is what’s real, and that’s the only solid place from which we can build authentic careers and lives, no matter how much they may differ from cherished ideals.
But the thing is, sometimes the truth isn’t what we’d hoped it would be. Who amongst us didn’t secretly hope that we were geniuses just waiting to be discovered? The truth is hard to see and it’s hard to accept once we’re forced to look at it. Sometimes it takes an outside voice to wake us from our half-baked fantasies or pointless regrets. In my own journey, it took my therapist telling me, “if you were going to be a Mozart, you would have figured it out by now.” It felt harsh when she said it, but those wise words continue to guide me decades later.
Ultimately, self-forgiveness lies in humility. It’s in the knowledge that we’re capable of some pretty spectacular screw ups. It’s in acceptance of our failures, and acceptance of our true place in the world. It’s in choosing to be the most complete musicians and human beings we’re capable of being, regardless of how we fit into someone else’s external blueprint.
The gift of self-forgiveness is the freedom to be completely and utterly who we are as human beings, not pale imitations of the people we wish we were. When we make music from this bedrock of truth—no matter how humble our talents may be—our grounded authenticity others on a level that speaks to their own humanity. It is then that the music we offer has the power to change lives.
Photo by Simon Humley, courtesy of UpSplash