by Katy Carnaggio
Why do negative experiences have such a strong hold on our progress with the horn? that one disastrous performance that clouds your practice with anxiety? the critical voice of a mentor you can’t get out of your head, inspiring defensive drills over artful exploration? or perhaps a serious issue that makes you want to avoid the instrument altogether?
You might think rumination is the problem, right? Well, not exactly. If overcoming a difficult experience with your horn was as simple as banishing negative thoughts, you would have moved past it months ago. The issue isn’t about needing more mental discipline. The issue is that it’s not all in your head!
Hear me out.
Our minds aren’t disembodied computers that we can program to process, store, and retrieve information at will. Our minds are inextricably linked to our physical bodies, deeply influenced by our surroundings. Or, as a fascinating theory within embodied cognition suggests, person and environment are inseparable. People cannot exist without the environment surrounding them. Environment implies that there is a person (or sentient being) to be surrounded.
Embracing embodied cognition is the key to transforming a troublesome relationship with the horn because if you focus solely on changing your internal narrative, you'll find yourself in a constant tug-of-war with an external world that tells a different, more tangible story.
In other words: it doesn’t matter if you manage your self-talk, write off whoever made you feel “less than,” and do your best to focus in the practice room if you’re not also addressing your environment.
Our environment includes mediums, objects, surfaces, and people who perceive and behave within them.
Environments are subjective, meaning no two people can experience the same environment in precisely the same way. Two people in the same room can’t sit in the same chair, at the same height, with the same eyesight and sensory experiences. Instead, we sit in different chairs, with different lines of vision, in different bodies, experiencing differing sensations, with different sensitivities, points of attention, and memories.
Objects within our environment may seem like separate fixtures, but many of them can become integral and operative parts of our body's processes. More simply put: objects can transform from environmental features into tools.
For example, a dress flung on the floor of my bedroom is an obstacle to step over or a surface that hides my missing shoe. But when I wear that dress, it becomes a tool. It moderates heat loss, changes the texture, color, and expressive qualities of my body’s surface, and modulates my emotions. If it fits well and I enjoy its qualities, I feel confident. If it’s wrinkled or unflattering, I might feel insecure.
Objects around us can become deeply personal extensions of ourselves. They can be used to extend our reach, strengthen our efforts, amplify our voices, and store our thoughts. This capacity to attach something to the body that influences its processing suggests that the boundary between us and our environment isn’t fixed at the surface of our skin. There is no absolute distinction between the subjective and objective.
Even a dress, which might objectively be viewed as an article of clothing, has infinite possibilities for use. When tied to a stick, it can bestow respect and pride to the winning team in a game of capture the flag. It can be the roof to a corner room of a fort you’ve built with your little brother. Or it can be one link to freedom when tied to a bunch of other clothes and hung out your second-floor window to sneak out to a party.
Theoretically, an object's action possibilities (affordances) are revealed through its characteristics, rather than stored in our minds. In other words, objects share with us how they might be used depending on our capabilities. We come to understand these possibilities through perspective, experience, and exposure.
Take that dress on the floor, for example. Initially, it was just a pretty dress. But after wearing it on a rainy day, to your dismay, you see its white material becomes transparent when wet. Now, you recognize that this dress has additional affordances that can evoke embarrassment and stress.
Social and cultural norms we’ve absorbed since birth also shape our expectations and preferences for how something might be used, imposing limits on what is acceptable, valuable, and appreciable.
In embodied cognition, it becomes beautifully and maddeningly clear that we don’t process a similar world through a centralized computer brain, where the only difference between us might be the make and model of our processor.
Instead, we navigate the world through a continuous interaction with our physical surroundings. Our perception, action, and cognition are all interconnected with the environment, shaping how we move, behave, and learn.
The world and the objects within it tell us unique stories.
Many of us fell in love with the horn because it is a tool that turns breath into sound. It amplifies our voice. It can communicate in ways more truly and completely than words can. It affords beauty, power, fun, transcendence, connection—and yes, the ability to gross people out with a simple twist of a tube (say it with me: it’s condensation).
But what do you do when your experiences with the horn become less like a capture-the-flag-victory dress and more like a rainy-day-shame-white dress? when the experiences you’ve had taught you that the horn is full of possibilities that are not only beautiful but painful, judgmental, or worse?
Untangling painful affordances from our love for the horn can seem daunting, but the secret is to start with one small thread.
It looks like this:
- → Building your morning practice routine around safety and positivity by setting clear boundaries of who and what gets to be a part of your practice.
- → Using resources like The Kindness Method to cultivate a new practice or performance behavior in line with who you want to be and how you want to feel.
- → Incorporating your signature character strengths in your approach, so when you pick up the instrument, you are working from your favorite personal qualities.
- → Practicing along with guided motivation activations when negative narratives get too loud (try the Super Human App).
- → Seeking mentorship with discernment. While charisma and great horn playing are inspiring, seek mentors who listen, believe in you, and align with your goals, as they can help you see new possibilities and expand your perspective.
Our approach to the horn shares common features, much like our environments do, connecting us to people all around the world. Yet, it’s in our unique differences that our practice transforms into artistry. How do you want to feel and sound and be on horn? Who and what gets to be communicated in the sounds you create? What gets to be in your mind when you touch the horn? Exploring these tools can help you craft a world of messages that honor the very best parts of you.
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