Journal · Philosophy
Forever a Student
The day of finally “knowing” never comes. On living at your own edge, the quiet decay of the comfort zone — and why we must remain students.
You will never be done with music. Whether that truth defeats you — or becomes the very point — is a choice.
When was the last time you practiced something you really can’t do yet? When did you last feel that you are on the very edge of your understanding — the very edge of what’s known to you?
When we study, we envision a day where we will finally know how to play. The dots will connect, and we will at last be ready. That day never arrives. Yes — the things you study and work on improve, and you collect more and more skills. But music is infinite. There is always more freedom to attain, a deeper rhythmic orientation, a faster technique.
Knowing that can be overwhelming. Spending your life studying music only to realize that the unknown is greater than the known — it doesn’t sound so appealing, right?
Here is the trap: approaching the study of music through a filter of accumulation — measuring how much knowledge you will have gained at the end of the process — will always end with the conclusion that it isn’t worth it. It has to. The finite can never study the infinite.
But the studying process can be seen in a different way. It can be seen as a long-term, voluntary engagement with the unknown — an engagement that generates an experience which, in itself, becomes the purpose of the process. Nothing is being counted anymore. You stop asking what you will hold at the end, because the engagement itself is already the thing.
And the experience of continuously meeting the edge of what is known to you — of becoming used to that place, even comfortable in it — has very strong side effects, both personal and artistic.
On the personal level: experiencing, on a regular basis, the boundary of your abilities — then the breaking of that boundary, then its broadening into a new, wider space — teaches a person about his own abilities. Try practicing a challenging independence exercise, or a really challenging phrase. At first, your brain will tell you: this is impossible. It’s beyond my abilities. Shattering that belief again and again, experiencing your own evolution again and again, shows you the fruit of labor — the fruit of long-term processes, the fruit of dedication.
You can do much more than what you give yourself credit for.
From the artistic point of view, being in touch with the unknown on a regular basis is probably the most potent state a musician can be in. Inside familiar territory, the hands run on habit — the same phrases, the same solutions: your own clichés. At the edge, habit has nothing to offer. The unknown strips those clichés away and forces you to be alert — to be more present. And presence is the spring of creativity.
Here is the danger: the more you develop as a musician, the more tempting it becomes to stop your search — to stop the expansion of your borders. You get enough concerts to pay the bills, you have a family and other commitments… and before you know it, that vibrant spring dries out, and you decay slowly inside your comfort zone. Music becomes work. No surprises. No real challenges. No real presence. This process is very common — it is genuinely difficult to remain a student over many years.
But we must. Being a student doesn’t necessarily mean taking lessons from someone. It can be an inner commitment to explore new pathways, new sounds. To arrive at each rehearsal with the intention of presence and freshness. With a new drum, or a new brush.
It is the finite committing to the infinite.
Explore the Classes →Ready to meet your own edge? Start the free Groove Builder Challenge →
Live online lessons across four instruments. Keep reading: The University and the Forest · Choose the Right Leader for Your Path · The Creative Ceremony