Be Brave Enough
A few years ago, I came across a meme that read “Be brave enough to suck at something new”. Since I turned 26, I’ve made it a personal goal to follow my curiosities, knowing that my small town upbringing left much of the world unexplored. I tried belly dancing, flamenco, and fly fishing, paintball gear was eventually sold for mountain bike parts, and cross-country skis stored away once I started fat biking. But I had never thought about it whether I was truly willing to be terrible at anything for more than a minute.
White brick wall with quote in block letters that reads “Be brave enough to suck at something new.”
Trying new things has amazing benefits for the mind and our outlook on life. Countless studies have shown the positive effects trying new things has on the brain, including increased dopamine release (Hello, feel-good chemicals!) and increases neuroplasticity of the brain (structural changes in our brains) which helps us think faster and concentrate better. Learning a new skill can improve our mood, make us more adaptable to change, fight dementia, and boost our self-esteem. What’s not to love?
But as I thought about the phrase and how blatantly it called out the pain of sucking at something new, I realized I left my own self little room to learn with patience and grace. I guess somewhere down the road I made up my mind that the ‘right’ thing for me would be easy. Like magic, I’d pick it up with effortlessly. People would see me and say “you’re a natural!” and I’d wow them with my amazing prowess as angels sang a harmony in the background. [insert angelic notes and illuminating light] And, if it turns out that my new hobby or sport didn’t launch like that, it must mean that it’s not for me.
Where the hell did that limiting idea come from?
I have no idea. But for whatever reason, I lived atop that foundation for my entire adult life, beating myself up for the skills I couldn’t master, for making a mistake. For being mediocre.
Fast forward more than a decade to one year ago when my friend Steve “the Mayor” (not a real mayor) told my husband and I he was selling his drum set for $150. We have many talented musician friends in bands or the music industry and he thought we might be able to connect him with a possible buyer. But a couple weeks went by and everyday I heard his voice in my head, “I’m selling my drums. Know anyone interested?”
The only drums I had ever played were in the PlayStation2 game “Guitar Hero”, and I was a beginner at best on the small electronic drum set… yet better at the drums than the toy guitars, those are hard as hell! And every time the repeating loop of his question played in my head, I would scoff and push it aside.
That’s just not for me, I’d tell myself. Who am I to take up the drums?
I have loved music my entire life. School concerts & musicals, I played the trombone and guitar each for a couple of years, I auditioned to sing in a band at 22, and my entire body moved each time I went to see a band play. I kept turning the thought over in my head but no matter what I did to talk myself out of it my heart always whispered back, But what if?
After months of consideration, I finally said Yes! The Mayor brought them over one sunny day, along with “KK”, the drummer from my husband’s band DNF. KK donated some cymbals and a high hat to complete my drum set, a beautiful 70’s looking orange wood grain set from Pearl. Ooo la la I was immediately in love! Once they finished setting it all up and I sat behind it for first time, I held the sticks in my hand almost afraid to make the first sound.
“Play something!” Emboldened by their support, I raised my arm and brought a stick down on the snare unsure of what would happen next.
The first crack of the snare broke something loose in me, like the shattered glass tube on a fire alarm. I hit the floor tom, feeling the impact in my chest, stunned by the sense of an afterglow. Peaceful, electric, and full of life like the silent messages of fireflies at dusk.
The sound felt like a rebellion and a coy smile found a place with me often as I started to play those first couple days. I enrolled in lessons (big shout out to the silly & patient Alex at Music Lab!). But after a couple months, my bravery began to wear out as I realized I still sucked. Bad. I hadn’t yet mastered a thing. My husband Jay and I would jam at night with him on guitar and me trying to hold a basic rock beat, but as mistakes happened I began to tense. Each muscle in my body clenching, reacting to the imperfections by tightening and attempting to gain more control.
Slowly dimming that warm, energizing glow in my heart.
I knew it wasn’t going to get better unless I found a way to right my ship on this drumming journey, knowing already in short time the glow was definitely worth the effort. It was the thing that has set drumming apart from most things I’ve tried in the past. I began to set my intention before practice and lessons, focusing on having fun. I reframed my mindset to think of drums as a form of Play, sweet and childlike as I had searched for toads and minnows as a kid. We redecorated our music room at home, the “Green Room”, as we so lovingly named it for it’s bamboo-green walls and ceiling lights that resemble snares. Eventually, my routine included mood lighting, putting on fuzzy, pink, smiley face slippers (partially to keep my toes from getting torn up on my kick pedal), and speaking my intentions out loud to my drums.
There are no rules in drumming.
I am safe to take up space.
Music is mine to create.
There is no timeline I have to follow. I can learn as fast or slow as I need.
We are going go have so much fun!
The more I practiced setting my intention before sitting down to practice my grooves, the quicker I began picking things up and the less fearful I became of making mistakes during my lessons. Each stroke of the drums lit up that place in the center of my chest, air filled parts of my lungs once previously unopened. Now, each new groove I learn somehow chips away at old rules I used to bind myself with. Be quiet. Don’t color outside the lines. If you can’t be perfect, you shouldn’t do it. This isn’t for me.
Pssh. Nah, let’s try a new way.
Playing the drums is a personal revolution, a release and a rebirth.
I used to listen to music as a complete entity, not thinking too deeply about each instrument and unique sound that made it up. But now, I hear songs differently, trying to dissect the sounds, find the rhythm. Locate the pulse. At live concerts, I catch myself watching the drummer now (except at DNF shows. Jay, you know I’m watching you, too!). Taking in every movement from the way they hold their sticks, shake their head to the beat, and the facial expressions they make. I try to identify which parts I know how to play already, and listen for ones to try next time I’m in the Green Room.
At the last Supersuckers show we went to (aka The Greatest Rock Band in the World), I watched as drummer Chris “Captain” VonStreicher drove forward each song with his energetic drum rolls and smile behind the kit. I watched him, song after song, lighting up as I recognized which grooves I had learned. I watched as he accentuated different beats to carry an emotion or add drama in a pause. I was mesmerized and I had no idea how long it had been since last I watched the other members of the band rock out.
As I stood in front of the stage, I let my focus widen to take in the full stage but it was to my own utterly nuts, total embarrassment….
As my attention broadened I realized that I had been staring intently at my favorite drummer on the raised stage…. but, comically, through the open stance of the band’s front man, Eddie Spaghetti. Had anyone been watching me watching them, it would have looked like a goofy girl staring directly at the crotch of the lead singer with an unapologetic cheshire grin stretched wide across my face. I laughed out loud and felt my cheeks flush with heat as I let my eyes bashfully settle on the floor a moment.
Ooof… Be brave, Kristy… just not pervy! ;o)
I found a better vantage point for the rest of that show and all shows that have followed. I’ve unapologetically stared at the drummer for the Mood Swings, DNF, Viagra Boys, 1000 Mods, Queens of the Stone Age and so many more. I’ve watched drummers playing the free show at the local record shop, the punk show, the live art installation, and every video I consume on Netflix (see Count Me In!) and YouTube. And the more rules I dissolve for myself, the more I fall in love with drumming and want to play every waking minute. Or until I look at Jay and say “mah arms are tired!” in some silly accent after a long jam session.
My friends, I encourage you to be brave. Go after those dreams, the curiosities big and small, even the ones you think “aren’t for you”. Give yourself time to get good, to find ease in the activity. It might come quickly at first to go easy on yourself, but give it time. Keep trying. Few things can be perfected in a night. A day. A year. But first, ask yourself: What dream have I been too fearful suck at? You got this.
Creating new beats to live by,
Kristy
