Air is the life of wind playing. It is the primary driver of our music. 

Placing notes on top of the wind which is always flowing like a river gives direction, connection, and life to the music. 🌊

I often notice when my playing is lacking flow and direction, it is because I am putting air behind the notes, getting caught up in the pitches, or rather thinking of the notes as primary as opposed to the wind as primary. 

Without air as the basis, our playing lacks direction, connection, and life. 🌬️

​Happy oboe-ing! 🕊️

I may not always feel like making reeds or practicing, but I show up each day
​
It's a practice of dedication, and the discipline builds confidence

I know that my worth is not determined by how I sound or what I get done on a specific day,
My worth is not determined by how much I do or don’t do at all…

My worth is innate.

I show up each day because I know I am worth the dedication.

​Happy oboe-ing! 🕊️

I sit with a lot of (seeming) contrast this morning..
about the shift from heart to tip: how the transition between these two parts requires the sharpest knife to get the subtlest gradients. 

how I see this in the way the earth moves from winter into spring: 
last week the daffodils, speedwell, and fig buttercups bloomed in the warm sun of a planet turning towards spring. This morning the sleet and snow is blowing down in the frigid wind at a 45 degree angle.

When I was 18, I read an essay by my professor about yin and yang in oboe reeds
I didn't really get it at the time
but revisit the concept often

Perhaps these are not really contrasts: sharpness and subtleness, warmth and cold, darkness and brilliance, but the light inside the dark and vice versa. seemingly contrary but really complimentary

maybe the contrasts simply demand of us the greatest presence and respect to properly perceive them..

the gradual transition is created by the sharpness of the knife the way winter turns to spring: 
with what appears at first as a contrast 
the sharpness facilitating the softness;
the light in the dark and dark in the light. 

Happy oboe-ing! 🕊️

I used to force ...a lot. 

I'd feel pressure to complete a reed, learn a piece, or develop a skill as quickly as possible. I spent so many hours, ineffectively forcing something that wasn't ready, something that was asking for my time and patience. I usually ended up disappointed, frustrated, tense, and with nothing to show for my hours of exertion.

Years of this approach led to burn-out, chronic stress, and anxiety. Since these are not values I wish to hold in general in my life and certainly not ones I'd hold as a musician either, I took a couple steps back to analyze. 

I realized that the forcing was not helping me achieve the outcome I was looking for. In fact, it often took me pretty far off target. 

When it came to reed making in particular, I noticed how reliable my reeds were and how long they lasted when I took my time making them.

It is an important skill to be able to make a reed in one sitting. But,

I spent many years forcing and pushing for reeds to be done quickly. 
Many of these reeds may have worked adequately (many didn't), but they all lacked the stability and quality of the reeds I make when I take my time. 

"Take care of your equipment and your equipment will take care of you" one of my teachers said. 

Reeds are certainly some of our most important equipment so I like to take my time with them.

No rushing. No forcing. No distractions. No stamping a pattern on a piece of cane. Just allowing the reed to take shape in it's beautiful individuality.

It's mostly a mindset thing for me.. when I approach a session thinking "I need a reed at the end of this", I usually wind up disappointed, usually because that forcing and pushing entered the situation. But, when I take the pressure off myself and just show up with my full attention to what the cane needs, I invariably come out with a reed. Perhaps not as quickly, but certainly with a better outcome. 

Here's to slowing down and being present. 

Happy oboe-ing! 🕊️