Practice

I’ve been thinking about what it means to practice, or to have a practice, lately. This might be indulgent, but the cool thing about having a blog is that it’s a space to be self-indulgent.

To have a practice can mean many different things. A doctor may have a practice, meaning that they offer their services to people as a business. A band may have a practice, meaning that they have an established time and place where they meet to play music. Law firms could have a practice of wearing suits in order to appear professional and attract clients. At the core of this concept is the idea of repetition. You have a practice by doing something over and over again. I have quite a few practices, and over a lifetime have practiced enough things that there are some practices that I have left to the wayside, like an old coat you leave in the back of the closet. Unlike an old coat, which I may outgrow with time, many of the things that I’ve practiced are things that I can return to whenever I feel the pull. The things I spent so much time practicing when I was younger stay in my mind.

When I was learning to play music, I was taught to practice my scales. Slowly at first, with a metronome, and as I was able to consistently keep pace I would increase the speed of the metronome until I was able to play at speed. This method of practice embedded the muscle memory of the movement; and eventually, being able to run a scale or play a specific melody or rhythm became second nature. I’m far out of practice now, but even today when I pick up a guitar or a pair of drumsticks I can still play the things I practiced when I was younger. The intention of sitting down and playing with a plan to improve has slowly etched parts of that skill into my mind in a way that feels permanent. This contrasts with something like my Spanish skills, which I spent a lot of time practicing when I was younger but without any real intention. I was simply doing the coursework required. As a result, I cannot hold a conversation in Spanish as an adult.

Many practices, like being able to speak a language or use an instrument, are immediately obvious on inspection. They’re palpable. Others are less obvious.

In living life I try to practice flexibility – though not in the yogic or contortionist sense. This is different than a tangible skill like playing guitar, it’s more of a practice of mind, a choice in how I interact with the world. It isn’t as immediately apparent that I practice it, and I wouldn’t necessarily know if someone else does without getting to know them. Flexibility, as a practice, is demonstrated in moments where a clear path forward isn’t available. It’s tangible when aspiration butts up against a deadline, or when it’s necessary to accept a loss. Intentional practice of flexibility, in this sense, is not the same as practicing an instrument or a language. There is no way to sit alone in a room and, through repetition, build flexibility. Practicing flexibility requires external forces, things that you cannot control, a world that isn’t yours and yours alone.

Having a practice includes both the tangible and the intangible practices acquired and built over a lifetime. It’s important to recognize and understand the things that you’re practicing, and to reflect on what they bring to you. Do they pave a path to you for people to follow (if that’s what you want)? Do your practices bring you joy in the act of doing them?

There are an infinite number of things to practice, and having a practice is the collection of all of what you practice in your life. It’s the things that you’ve tried and failed, it’s the models of behavior that you engender in living, it’s the things that you picked up and never put down. To have a practice isn’t something you opt into our out of, it’s a part of life. There isn’t a definite path to a “best” practice – if such a thing exists – nor is there a set of practices that will guarantee a good life. Building a practice that is fulfilling requires diversity. In previous chapters of my life I thought that music would be my one and only practice. In others I thought it was having the right perspective (a silly notion in retrospect). Now, I think that it doesn’t really matter what I practice so long as it reflects my values and feels like it’s leading me down a path that fits who I am. That isn’t to say that there’s no need to be thoughtful or intentional about the choice of what to practice, but that, with enough experience and understanding of what my practice is and has been, there is a need to learn to trust my judgement. After all, practice makes perfect.