Breaking Down the Magic

I would make a lousy magician. I like to think I’m amazed every time I witness a magic trick. The unfolding of the cards, the rabbit snatched from the hat, even the quarter pulled from behind a child’s ear – all are wonderous feats which should provide pure joy to the viewer. Unfortunately, all of my adult life, well, really, starting at about age 10, I have been the skeptical magic observer. I’ve seen countless magicians perform at business conferences, street fairs, kid and adult birthday parties. In every instance as I watch each magician I am not marveling at the magic. Instead, I try to figure out how the trick is done. I’m trying to demystify the magic instead of basking in the wonder. I don’t go so far as to ask the magician how they performed said magic. My logical mind is foremost at work trying to figure out where the trick lies. Wah, wah, wah…does adult skepticism break down all kinds of magic?

I am starting to experience the breakdown of my music-making magic, as I become more adept at learning how music is made. My own millennial off spring instinctively turn to technology when they want to learn something new. I, on the other hand, always want to find a “teacher” or a “class” to gain new knowledge. The pandemic did not allow for that in-person learning, I learned the basics online. I Googled “beginning guitar,” and a plethora of claims appeared:

• 12 beginner chords everyone should know

• 20 minutes a day for 3 months and you will be playing any song

• Easy chord progressions for guitar beginners

I dove in. I was a beginner, an adult beginner which may or may not be an advantage. I think the pandemic helped me become an adult beginner. It gave me time. I think back on the kids I knew growing up: the 13-year-old who spent hours in his room learning to master the guitar riff of his favorite song, the kid who wanted to perfect the chocolate chip cookie they tasted at a friend’s house, baking batch after batch until they found the sweet spot, And another kid on my block who wanted to be the next Michael Jordan, practicing lay-ups in the driveway over and over way past dark. All of this is afforded to early teens who have the time. Time is what is needed to become proficient at a new endeavor. 

As an adult I’ve jumped into a number of new endeavors. I would learn a new thing and become intrigued. I always enjoyed the process, but never became proficient at watercolor painting, or Zen Tangle drawing. Adult life got in the way. Work, family and friends were my focus and filled my time. These were not challenging obligations, but rather components of a full life where “practice time” was not as easily obtained.

That model changed in the years 2020 to 2022. At that point in all of our lives, my adult world had nothing but time. I don’t want to romanticize that time. It really was filled with all kinds of heartache, confusion and so much worry! But it also provided the gift of time which allowed me to start learning the nitty-gritty of guitar playing and music theory.

Now three-plus years into the music learning adventure, I am faced with choices. My old “busy life” is starting to resurface. I have to build time into my day for guitar practice to maintain my status as a capable beginner or maybe if I am generous an advanced beginner. I can play basic songs and sing along. I am starting to understand the structure of songs, which does help me in my lyric writing. I am also starting to understand the choices artists make when writing songs. This is all super interesting, and good for my brain, but what is also happening is that some of the “mystical magic” I felt when a song idea came to me at the beginning of my song writing adventure is disappearing. The process is no longer joyfully mysterious and awe-inspiring. Now that I am learning the tricks of the trade, the luster and shine of new learning is starting to diminish.

I’m also becoming less childlike in my music explorations and more adult-work focused. You can never unlearn something.  You can’t go back to being a wide-eyed beginner. I guess the trick to sticking with any new endeavor, is mastery, plus maintaining the enthusiasm of a child. 

Maybe this is what the “greats” in our lives do: remain open to being childlike and open to the new thing in their field. Pushing toward perfection but knowing there is no such thing. Can I stay a magical child in my music making adventure? I sure hope so. The magic drew me in at a time when the world as I knew it was falling apart. Now that we have to pick up the pieces of normal life can we adjust to the unknown? Because really all of life is one big great unknown. Living within the mystery, maybe that is where the magic lies. I am going to do my best to chase that magic.