I've been thinking a lot about the yogic concept of Dharma recently. It was something we discussed in my yoga teacher training in the Fall with Noah Mazé and Rocky Heron, and it landed on me like a snowflake that just wouldn't blow away. 

It is a tricky term to define precisely, and many people interpret it to mean a variety of different things, so I’ll draw on a few sources to narrow it down to what I've been pondering. 

(Also, I use these blog posts are an opportunity to discuss my relationship with music and yoga, so bear that in mind as you read this post). 

Definition of Dharma in Merriam Webster

1 Hinduism: an individual's duty fulfilled by observance of custom or law

2Hinduism and Buddhism 

a: the basic principles of cosmic or individual existence: divine law

b: conformity to one's duty and nature

In the Bhagavad-gītā, Dharma is used in place of the word duty. It comes up in regards to Arjuna's moral quandary – battle or no battle. Krishna tells him he must fight because it is his duty, his Dharma. 

It is an interesting question to ponder; what is my duty? In the context of Arjuna's life, it is his duty based on his class – meaning, he was born into the warrior class, therefore he has no choice but to go to battle. But technically, this type of class system doesn’t exist anymore. Or if it does, it isn’t nearly as strict. So what does one make of Dharma in the modern context? What about as a musician? Is being a musician in the present day some sort of chosen “class” or is it simply a profession?

I often think that creating a life in music begins as a higher calling. You might not know why you enjoy it, but you do. Music, regardless of genre, era, instrumentation, etc., can be so compelling as a listener, creator, collaborator, or performer that it might be challenging to articulate what first drew you to the sound or instrument, but there is a power to it that holds your attention. Being a musician often becomes something of a duty, it can feel like our nature. 

In my case, I felt compelled to play the violin when I was four or five years old. From that point on, it became an indelible part of who I am as a person. I didn’t know at that age what kind of violinist I wanted to be; I just loved the sound. But as I pursued a life in music, the path grew narrower as my interests seemed to grow broader. Is my Dharma simply to play violin? Or is it to play violin in a specific ensemble or genre? Is it my duty to be a violin teacher? How did my calling get so intricately bound to a job description?

With the added time to ponder and reflect during Coronavirus and social distancing, I've been wrestling with these questions. I'm finally awakening to the realization that music takes up a bigger space than just a job in my life, and while being a musician might be my duty, it might not always be my job (and sometimes my musical job, is not my dharma). When I admitted that last part to myself, it was terrifying. How could I be a musician and not make music for a living? 

I've been sitting with that question daily and have come to this conclusion: collecting payment for work isn’t the same as having a mission or a purpose. If I don't like my musical job, but I am a working musician, am I fulfilling my Dharma? I don’t think so.

So what's missing?

 The Why

The why drives everything. 

We start everything with the WHY.

Return to the WHY

When I was a kid, I loved playing the violin. I loved the way it sounded, and I loved the repertoire. I loved my teacher, and I was unaware of the mind games or the weird politics of gig life. I wasn’t aware of the total devastation of losing countless auditions and questioning my self-worth. I simply did what I loved. 

Often, the journey makes the WHY less clear. We get caught up in the present, in whatever is happening in our environment or how we feel about a specific gig, job, student, or employer. We get distracted by our immediate needs and wants. Often, we question our worth and credibility because we are trying to force our existence into a culture that doesn't care about our individual nature. We forget why we started on this path to begin with, and sometimes we get blown off course. What WAS our duty, is now our occupation but it no longer aligns with our intrinsic nature. Does that make sense?

So how do you reconnect to the WHY?

I don’t have the answer for this but I see glimmers of it all the time. 

In a lesson taught with an attentive and engaged five-year-old.

On tour in Europe with non-classical musicians.

In a practice session when nobody is listening but the music seems to come from somewhere deep inside.

While focused on a project I am deeply passionate about.

While I cannot explicitly articulate my duty, I realize that my nature is to be a musician. You may think those are the same thing (see definitions above) but I think there is nuance.

My nature is to be a musician but the HOW is my duty.

HOW I make music and exist as a musician comes from having a clear WHY. Working with a clear vision and path forward is what I believe the essence of Dharma really is in our modern-day society.

I used to wish my Dharma was to be the best violinist; To win. To be the soloist everyone adores or the teacher everyone wants to study with, but I've come to realize my Dharma lives in the shared spaces that surround music. In the friends you make, the joy you bring to others, the transformation you provide to students, the collaborations you share, the community you create, and the stories you tell that create a shared experience through music. 

My Dharma has no job description.

So, where is the job market for Dharma that lives in the cracks around a vocation? If music is my nature, and I feel most called to inhabit unspecified spaces, what does my authentic path forward look like, and how do I define success?

How do all of my interests and passions converge to create my duty? How does my nature shape my life? 

This is what I’m pondering.

Stay tuned.