Decrescendo

Decrescendo: (n) a gradual reduction in force or loudness.

“Don’t just play it—feel it. And after you feel it, control it.”

I heard these words in my head decades ago during a writing session, when I was constructing a song list for a new album.

I had reached a certain level of aptitude, where it was understood that I would write, perform and a proficiency would follow.

But somewhere along the way I lost sight of the dynamics of music and how my passion could turn an average song into a masterpiece of musical ecstasy.

It’s true.

Sometimes I forget.

I start believing that if I hit the marks—play fast, loud, soft or determined—then the music will do the rest.

We give too much credit to music and not enough honor to arranging the alluring passages into a magnet for human emotions.

Sometimes you just need to slow down.

Often times, you get softer–to make a point.

It’s true in music.

And it certainly is true that life, itself, requires the occasional decrescendo.

 

Bustle

j-r-practix-with-border-2

Bustle: (v) to move in an energetic or noisy manner

Speed kills.

It’s a simple statement but true.

Generally speaking, we convince ourselves that by acting energetic and moving along at a breakneck clip, we convey passion and purpose. Actually, we’re just burning unnecessary flame to stoke a fire.

This has taken me years and years to understand. I have often placed myself in an atmosphere with those who bustle and hustle and insist on using more muscle. It ends up being a nervous, frustrating event, permeated with anxiety. The byproduct is always exhaustion.

I know we believe that at the end of our work we should be tired–but nowhere in any book of quality or holiness is it suggested that fatigue is the reward for fruitful effort.

The prize spoken of in these volumes is joy. We should be joyful when we finish what we set out to do.

If we’re frustrated, grouchy, sporting a headache, or testy, we probably have tried to run when walking was available, and bounce when rolling would have been just as efficient.

Here is an axiom: slow down, do better things, feel great.

Actually, when I started believing that everything I did in life was supposed to produce joy, I not only simplified the pace, but I found that I embraced the endeavor so much more–and I learned how to do it more quickly. I got just as much done in much less time without becoming frantic.

Do not try to impress me by talking about your bustle. Such “raciness” only lends itself to crashes.

Donate ButtonThank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) —  J.R. Practix