The Good News

This morning, I set out for my daily walk in the park. It's just 2 miles, but at 6 months pregnant, even a few blocks often requires a bathroom stop along the way. 

Fortunately, there is a porta pottie by the tennis courts at my halfway mark.  Yet by the time I'd gotten to the health food store just a couple blocks from home, I was desperate to go again.  

While against their policy, the man stocking the granola aisle smiled kindly as he led me through to the back, which certainly made it easier to get a little shopping done.  That is, until I reached the counter and realized I didn't have enough cash on me (I'd forgotten to throw a credit card in my pocket).

Slightly flustered, I offered to put back the bananas or tomatoes in order to bring my balance down.  But Nima– a man I'd never met before– gently touched my hand, looked in my eyes, and said, "I want you to have your bananas and tomatoes.  Just bring the balance by sometime."

This kind of kindness isn't an anomaly.  When I recently took my air filter to our local hardware store for repair, Mohammad, unable to determine the problem, insisted on bringing the machine home 'to explore and play with it'.  Three days later, he returned my indeed broken filter– free of charge– with thanks for my providing him with 'a new challenge'.   

So often when I tell people I am from New York, I hear back "you don’t seem like it…"  I know this is meant to be a compliment; New Yorkers have a reputation of being cold, harsh, and jaded.  Certainly this is true of some people, as it is for certain inhabitants of any city or town.

But these stereotypes miss the point entirely.  They highlight a few bad apples and extrapolate them out to the population at large, leaving a very incorrect impression of the way the majority of people really are… good, decent, and kind. 

The same is true, unfortunately, of the current news media.  We are not provided with a balanced summarization of all that is going on in the world; we hear a singularly one-sided view of what’s decidedly wrong with it.  And not only once at 5 or 6 o’clock in the evening… but all day long, over and over and over again. 

I'm not suggesting that we should 'positive up' the news or put our heads in the sand and ignore the realities and challenges in society.  In order to make our world a better place, we certainly must look candidly and critically at what isn't working in order to determine and implement what will.

Yet when 'bad news' is all that we are shown on the news and internet, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, it not only depletes our optimism and hope; it influences our perspective to the point where we can no longer see– or worse, want to see– what is truly possible in terms of righting the wrongs in our world.

  

Beginning with how many good people there are in it, and the incredible kindnesses they contribute on both the local and global levels. 

This article was originally published in Psychology Today.  For more information about Jennifer, her books, and her work, please visit:  www.jenniferhamady.com

The Perils of Intentions and Expectations

"The cause of all upsets falls into one of three categories: undelivered communications, thwarted intentions, or unfulfilled expectations."      

–  Landmark Education

I love this quote, because it plainly states and links together what so many intentions and expectations lead to: disappointment and upset.  

That isn’t to say that they always result in negative outcomes or that we shouldn’t have them.  On the contrary; intentions are necessary for us to imagine what we want for ourselves and our lives.  Expectations are the gauge by which we can measure our progress toward what we set out to accomplish.  For example, I intended to write my last book, and expected to do so within a year.  And thanks in large part to creating these goals, I accomplished them. 

Yet the opportunity and productivity that come from consciously creating intentions and expectations quickly turn into limitations when we, rather than being committed to achieving our aims, become attached to them. 

What is the difference? 

In simple terms, a commitment to an intention is having the willingness to create a process that supports its achievement, as well as a determination to do your best.  Often the intention is met, sometimes it isn’t.  In the latter case, one would consider what might have been missing, learn from the experience, create a new intention, and– newly empowered– recommit to its attainment.  

Attachment, on the other hand, follows a very different path.  While the desire for the intention may be just as strong, the need to achieve it often interferes with doing so.  Objectivity, flexibility, and creativity find themselves pushed to the wayside as fixation on attainment, self-validation, and perfection take over.

Returning to the example of writing my second book, commitment inspired me to reach my weekly page goals.  Attachment brought on anxiety when I thought I wouldn’t and frustration when I didn’t end up doing so.  Commitment allowed me to creatively find time for writing when it seemed I didn’t have any.  Attachment led to either forcing myself to write, which dulled my inspiration, or to turn on the TV in resignation for the seeming lack of time. 

At this point, you might guess– and can certainly see in this example– that attachment and commitment tend to carry with them certain emotional markers.  For me, commitment leads to curiosity, excitement, a sense of play, and determination.  On the other hand, attachment brings about pride, anxiety, fatigue, and competition with myself and others.  Some variation on these themes is true for most people, explaining the frustration that so often comes when our expectations and intentions are not met or fulfilled. 

And it can be the smallest of things!  Expecting someone to hold a door for you, intending to go next at the stop sign.  The sanest of us are often driven mad when things don’t go the way we want, particularly in areas of our lives that are of great importance:    The businessperson who not only wants, but needs to be in charge of the meeting.  The singer who not only hopes, but more, has to sound perfect.  Both find themselves incredibly disappointed when things don’t go they way they should.

And therein lies the problem.  Should is subjective.  Opinions, values, and beliefs– as well as intentions and expectations– vary wildly from person to person, making it virtually impossible for others to anticipate what it is we want and expect, much less to fulfill our desires.

Given the anxiety, frustration, and overall ineffectiveness, why in the world do so many of us hold onto these types of attachments? 

It’s not always deliberate.  As I discussed in my first book, The Artof Singing, most fears and insecurities– as well as the attachments and fixations they inspire– are remnants of childhood and survival related concerns that result in a scarcity-based view of the world.  Thus, the tenacity with which many of us hold onto so many disempowering ways of thinking and being; it’s not merely about wanting things our way and hoping to achieve our goals.  It’s about needing to do so in order to prove to ourselves and others that we’re important, valid, visible, and worthy.  

Of course, our adult minds don’t see this.  While we certainly still feel the anxieties they inspire, the years have helped to translate our fears and insecurities into intellectual rationalizations, reasons, and justifications for why we should hold fast to our scarcity based beliefs and expectations, including that not doing so would lead to being walked all over or taken advantage of, having to give something up, unjustly defer to others, or more fundamentally, to lose. 

This isn’t the case.

Regardless of what our fears, experiences, and cynicism may tell us, holding fast to rigid intentions and expectations does not prevent either the failure of opportunity or the loss of respect, progress, and validation.  In fact, it often causes their fulfillment by preventing our ability to effectively and creatively partner with other people.

A look at truly great teams, companies, and relationships demonstrates this.  No man is an island, and effective leaders are well aware that isolation and ego-driven independence never lead to innovation. They therefore seek out participation and even partnership from every member of their teams, knowing that the best new ways of thinking, doing, creating, and being are generated thanks to the full and welcome contribution of everyone involved. 

For those trapped in the scarcity based model, this probably sounds like a recipe for disaster: opening up and being truly vulnerable and honest lead to backstabbing, infighting, and passive aggression, along with the outright ending or destruction of relationships.  Many can’t fathom or imagine any other possible outcome of inviting everyone to share their thoughts and ideas, much less a sense of ownership. 

Yet take a closer look.  When we are committed to remaining in control and having things go our way, we are actually creating the fertile ground for the very results we’re desperately trying to avoid.  More energy goes to managing and manipulating other people than partnering with and learning from them.  We spend more time being exhausted than creative, more time focusing our energies inward on perfection rather than on productivity.

Exceptional and enduring success, in any area of life, comes only once we set our pride and insecurities aside– as well as the ineffective expectations and attachments that so often stem from them– and become willing to learn, partner, and co-create with others.  When we do, the results speak, and often sing, for themselves.

This article, originally published in PsychologyToday, is an excerpt from Jennifer's upcoming book: "Singing On Stage and in the Studio: Understanding the Technology and Relationships in Recording and Live Performance" available next year from Hal Leonard Publishing.  

For more information about Jennifer, her books, and her work, please visit:  www.jenniferhamady.com 

Beyoncé Again Brings Her 'A Game'

Last year, I was working with a singer struggling to capture her best performance on a new record. She was -- and is -- a truly great singer, though at the time, she had a tendency to overthink and, as a result, underperform.

Her issues weren't a matter of inadequate technique, training, or talent. Rather, like so many of us, it was her choice of safety over bravery that led to less-than-ideal results and a sense of dissatisfaction. 

Not that she recognized the source of her frustration. When we are stuck in safety, we confuse the fatigue of simultaneously trying for and resisting our goals with the energy and effort that would otherwise be going powerfully toward achieving them.

Out of a desire to illustrate what language could not, I asked my client to watch the video of Beyoncé's song "I Was Here", which the artist had just premiered at the United Nations on World Humanitarian Day.

The video had the desired effect. I witnessed my client move through observation, judgment, and jealousy, and finally, into admiration and awe. Tears streaming her face as the song concluded, she whispered: "She looks like she's fighting for her life..."

After wiping my own tears away, I took her hands in mine and asked whether she had ever fought so hard and given that much to her own performances or recording projects. Or to anything in her life, for that matter. And whether she would be willing to get out of the way whatever was in the way of her doing so.

The answer, in words and soon after in her actions, was an unequivocal yes. Something changed in my client that day, and her record, subsequent performances, and career have since been nothing short of incredible. More importantly, her way of being shifted; trading in her resignation and judgment of herself and others, she has become someone who truly enjoys what she does and is honored by the opportunity to share her passion and gifts with others.

This amazing woman came to mind last Sunday as I watched the Super Bowl halftime show. I was once again blown away by Beyoncé's extraordinary talent and commitment, her tireless work ethic and determination to bring her 'A game' to everything she does.

It is a lesson for us all, whatever we do for a living, whatever our passion in life: to give our best, our absolute all, to everything we do.

How many of us can say that we do this? What's more, how often do we expect extraordinary results while giving only ordinary effort?

Certainly, fears and doubts step in. Certainly, the desire to look good seeks to stop us from taking bold and brave action. Yet the gnawing anxiety and lack of satisfaction that come from a life resisted, justified, and half-lived is so much more exhausting and unfulfilling than putting yourself out there, taking risks, and really living.

And at the end of the day, every day, that is indeed the choice we are free to make... whether we will really fight for the life that we have been given or merely survive.

Thanks to Beyoncé, my clients, and every man, woman, and child who again and again fully express who they are in the world and make a difference. You are an inspiration to us all. May we learn to be wise and humble enough to follow your lead.


Originally published in The Huffington Post 

Safety versus Bravery

Recently, a singer emailed over some songs for me to hear prior to our first meeting. They were good... other than some standard, easily released tensions, there was nothing in his voice that was concerning or problematic.

What I did hear though, was safety. I heard a tremendous amount of potential not being expressed, many risks not being taken.  I heard a choice to play it safe as a vocalist, as an artist and perhaps even, as a person (in my experience, rarely are these three unrelated...)

What's stopping him?  What's stopping you?

We're not talking about someone in need of intense vocal or personal work. What we're talking about– what he's in need of, what we're all in need of– is bravery.

We're all good at doing what we do, staying inside of the lines. That's why we do it; that's why we stay there.

But that's not where the real fun is, no matter your passion, no matter your dreams or goals.

Fear calls us to newer and better experiences. And while fear can certainly be scary, it's far less so than the gnawing and consuming anxiety that comes from not striving for and living up to our full potential.

Just as songs are to be shared, not merely sung, life is to be lived, not merely survived. So live while you're alive; let 2013 be a year filled with bravery, rather than safety. 

The Art of Preparation

On one level, singers are master preparers. We spend tremendous amounts of time training and practicing, and for many of us, songwriting as well. In fact, we’re so focused on our instruments and material that we can be virtually non-stop in our physical and mental preparation for success, whether or not we have any performance or recording dates on the horizon.

Yet there’s another kind of preparation that we neglect all too often, and that is with the technology that makes our recording sessions and live performances possible.

Indeed, for all of our training and practicing for live shows; for all of our writing and rehearsing prior to recording, we singers rarely take the time to proactively work with the technology that facilitates both.

There are a number of reasons why this happens, including access and money. Not everyone has friends who work in recording studios or have Pro Tools rigs at home. Even fewer people can afford to book studio or stage time to practice, much less record or perform.

Yet there’s more to it than that. There is an often unspoken and unquestioned expectation that when the time comes, a singer can show up to the studio or stage and everything will work out. That we should simply sing and perform the way we always have, and that the technology and those running it will meet us where we are and ensure that things will turn out perfectly.

It doesn’t work this way. And with a bit of objective thought, the irrationality of this expectation becomes clear: In what other setting, line of work, or discipline can we just show up — with little or no training or practice– and do a great job?  Where else in life can we, with no real knowledge of how they work or experience with them, use an entirely new set of tools competently, much less expertly?

Absolutely nowhere.

It’s like expecting to ride or swim flawlessly or even effortlessly the first time you get on a bike or into a pool. Practice and patience are not only required. They’re universally acknowledged to be necessary.

Thankfully, access to studios, friends in high places, and deep pockets aren’t mandatory to gain the skills required for stage and studio singing. This is particularly true today, as technology itself continues to graciously open up its mysteries to us. With a pair of inexpensive studio headphones, a handheld microphone, and an average laptop, we can learn the practical basics of studio hearing and singing. We are able, with the same microphone and a semi-decent pair of speakers, to practice balancing our listening and performing in a live setting (to say nothing of the countless open mic nights available in many cities).

Singers and songwriters spend an inordinate amount of time training, writing, and rehearsing. Yet rarely do we properly prepare for our work on stage and in the studio, either in terms of actual practice or self-education. For our own sakes, as well as for the sake of those with whom we work, this needs to change.

*  *  *

Jennifer Hamady is a voice coach and counselor specializing in self-expression. Based in New York City, Jennifer works in private practice with musicians and non-musicians alike to discover, develop, and confidently release their best personal, professional, and performance voices. Her clients include Grammy, CMA, Emmy, and Tony award-winners, as well as corporate clients across an array of industries.  Jennifer’s insights and experiences have been captured in her book: The Art of Singing: Discovering and Developing Your True Voice, heralded as a breakthrough in the psychology of musical and personal performance.  Jennifer also writes regularly for The Huffington Post and Psychology Today on matters of creative expression and her new book: Learning To Sing: A Transformative Approach to Vocal Performance and Instruction is now available.

Originally published in American Songwriter

The Art of Being Musical

My husband and I joined a gym a while back. Actually, John joined the gym and essentially added my name to the membership; I was content to walk in the park and stretch now and again.

So when the woman handling our registration swore that I’d start scheduling my life around certain classes, I told her she was crazy.

Six months later, however, I realize she was right.

And the class I now schedule my life around (or at least try to)? Zumba.

To say that I am a fan is a profound understatement. I catch myself laughing and hooting, smiling like a loon in the mirror, and sometimes becoming so moved by the music and movement that tears spring to my eyes. I even occasionally catch John pausing in his own workout, a smile playing across his lips as he watches his wacky wife having a beyond-marvelous time.

I’ve recently been having a similar experience with the cello. After a lifetime as a vocalist, I began playing about four months ago and have been awed by what a gift it has been to experience music in this new way.

And it is entirely new. Wrapping myself around this external creature and using my hands to create sound—to say nothing of being able to see the instrument!—makes me giddy. I’ve developed muscles in my arms, side body, and even in my legs, some of which I never knew existed. Every movement feels like floating or flying, every sound is a revelation.

Given my tendency toward happiness, the experiential similarities between Zumba and the cello might seem personal. Yet there’s something else at play; an objective and shared process that allows for such joy to emerge: 

A commitment to being musical.

Let me explain what I mean by "being musical." Commonly referred to, of course, in the musical sense, it implies far more than notes and rhythm. "Being musical" suggests artfulness and surrender, being creative, engaging with heart.

In rehearsals and recording sessions, "can you be a bit more musical?" is met with a universal understanding of what is being asked: to stop thinking so damn much, to stop being so darn technical, and to just play.

The principle extends well beyond the realm of harmony and melody. Being musical means to give your all, to create in every moment, whatever you find yourself engaged in. To allow everything to be a work of art; every relationship to be a thing of beauty.   

When we do, concepts related to better or worse, good or bad, and right or wrong are absent. In Zumba, there is no thought to my appearance. With the cello, no concern about being a beginner.  There is only the experience of full engagement and aliveness; of dancing with my whole heart. Of playing with my whole soul. 

And perhaps it is because of this approach that my playing—and my dancing—usually end up being rather lovely.

How do we go about being musical? The first step is to give ourselves the gift of believing that we have the right to be musical. That we are—each of us—equals in the eyes of creation and creativity alike. And our lives are a commensurate reflection of the extent to which we do or don’t believe in the parallel notions of musicality and the right to share in its magical world.

How often do we—as dancers say—"mark" life, dispassionately going through the motions? How often do each of us try to master our methods and become good enough at something we want to do before we start really doing it?

There is a famous saying: “Dance as if no one is watching. Sing as if no one can hear.” But I say:  Dance with abandon. Sing at the top of your lungs. Stop thinking about how you look or sound.  Instead, be musical in everything you do, sharing your heart and self as if your life depends on it.  Because—in very real and important ways—it does. 


Jennifer Hamady is a voice coach and counselor specializing in emotional issues that interfere with self-expression. Click here to learn more about her book: The Art of Singing: Discovering and Developing Your True Voice, heralded as a breakthrough in the psychology of personal and musical performance.  Her second book: Learning To Sing: A Transformative Approach to Vocal Performance and Instruction is also available. 




Originally published in Psychology Today

The Gift of Music

"In the beginner's mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert's there are few."    – Shunryu Suzuki

In July, I wrote about a fiction conference I attended, and how the experience profoundly changed my relationship with writing.  For those two intensive days, I not only learned about the intricacies of character, story, and world creation.  I was reminded of the ideal conditions for learning:

Wonder.
Joy.
Curiosity.
A sense of play.

Indeed, something magical happens when you know that you don't know something.  Not burdened by opinions, pride or beliefs, I was fully present in the workshop. And I was able to listen– and hear– in a way that I wouldn't have been in a voice or nonfiction writing class (two of the fields I work in).

I’ve recently had similar 'a-ha' moments thanks to the cello, which I began playing three months ago.  Coming home from a trip one day, there she stood next to my smiling husband, a red bow perched on her neck.

They say the cello is the instrument most like the human voice, which perhaps explains why as a singer I have always been so drawn to it.  The timbre is so rich, the resonance and sweet melancholy fill and emanate from its wooden body the way they do from my own.  And I will never forget the first time I played her; tears streamed down my face as the joy and wonder of making music in this new way became possible. 

The wonder… the joy… Why is it often such a challenge to bring this experience of learning to bear in areas about which we are already knowledgeable?

Back in July, I speculated that the main problem is living in a culture which deems the acquisition of information to be of greater importance than the process by which we acquire it.  Both the language and experience of mastery, achievement and expertise suggest the sought-after arrival at an end point, rather than an ongoing process of learning.

Unfortunately, this view doesn’t tend to breed wonder, joy, and curiosity but rather, competition, closed-mindedness, and even arrogance.  To say nothing of the stress, anxiety and lack of productivity that come from trying to do things perfectly, lest we fall from our supposed pinnacle of distinction.

Just as a sponge can only take on water after being wrung out, so too must we be able– regardless of our experience or education– to continually renounce our own fullness, lest we become bloated and stale. 

The cello has been a powerful reminder of this lesson, both in my musical life and beyond:  it is surrender– of perfection, of expectation, of resistance– that allows learning at every level and in every area to become joyful and as a result, effective. 


Originally published in Psychology Today