cave emptor vitae

The title of this post is “cave emptor vitae.” I checked it in Google Translate, but Latin scholars, you’ll have to cut me some slack on the translation. The premise is legit - I have heard “caveat emptor” which at least loosely translates to “buyer beware,” particularly when dealing with online purchases where you can’t see the item before purchasing. This seemed slicker than “beware of that dream job you think you want.”

I feel like a career in the arts is similar to buying online. You see something from a distance that seems like a great deal, but you have to commit to a financial investment before you can find out for sure if it is the deal you think it might be.

A stretch? Maybe, but hear me out.

I have been doing this “music thing” for nearly twenty years, and this “college teacher thing” for nearly a decade. I have been blessed beyond measure. I found my wife while working toward my goals, and if I have no other accomplishments between now and my dying day, I will have been the luckiest man on the planet. This is a GREAT career with wonderful moments, but it was anything other than easy to get here, and I’m not always sure that people on the outside understand the path - and for the purposes of this blog entry, the pitfalls that exist along the way.

I’m also nervous to post this because there are those in my profession who wear what I’m about to post here as a badge of honor, and I could face professional repercussions for posting. Comments and labels like “not fully committed” or “not cut out for this” are gaslighting at their finest, and I refuse to let the fear of those things keep me from sharing my heart on this matter anymore. If that means that I never have a particular opportunity, then it probably ALSO means that it was an opportunity I likely wouldn’t have enjoyed in the first place.

Here we go…

When I was finishing up doctoral school at the University of Alabama roughly 10 years ago, and perhaps a year or two into my professional life after graduation, it really mattered to me to win a full-time, college teaching position. Everything in my life was touched by this goal. It promised steady income, professional creative freedom, the opportunity to save for retirement, health insurance, and on, and on. Many of these items eluded me as a freelance musician, and it was really enticing.

I guess I did what most Americans would do - I put on my boots and went to work. I had the promise of an amazing opportunity ahead of me, and I wanted to make the most of it. So I attached all of my self-worth to my success, and dove in head first.

A strange thing happened to me when I entered graduate school. I was so narrowly fixed on “winning a job” that I started trimming back or cutting things out of my life all together in pursuit of that goal. Did my professors tell me that this had to happen? No, they didn’t. But somewhere along the way, it became my reality. I finished my coursework, and days after my second Alessi Seminar, I moved from Tuscaloosa, AL to the Dallas/Fort Worth, TX metroplex for an adjunct teaching job at Southeastern Oklahoma State University in Durant. The low pay and limited funds made finding a place to live a challenge, so I rented a bedroom from a couple of dear friends for my first semester of college teaching. This meant that twice a week, I drove nearly 4 hours round trip to teach my classes and lessons. Was it great to be close to friends and reconnect after 3 years in Alabama? Absolutely. Was it great to be pursuing my dream? It was…and it wasn’t.

Another strange music industry trap I fell into was only wanting to work music jobs, because “that is what professional musicians do.” Really? On what page of the “Music Careers For Dummies” does that rule live? Oh yeah. There is no rule because there is no manual! Here are some other “rules” I started adopting out of thin air:

“Only take music-related jobs so that the market takes me seriously.”

“Miss out on important celebrations and activities because “I have a gig.”

I could go on, but for the sake of this post, I will keep it to these two.

Only take music-related jobs so that the market takes me seriously.

I’m not sure where this one comes from, but I have a few ideas. Music is one of the few fields where it is considered a failure, at least in some circles, to not be working in your field of study. You and I know plenty of people who have a degree in one field, and now have a great job doing something else, and no one gives them any grief for that! Perhaps it’s because we have to work harder to convince our loved ones that we will succeed in music. Maybe it is the fear that we will NEVER work in the music industry if we take a job that siphons off some of our energy and attention. Maybe it is pride. Whatever the reasons are, the fact remains that if I had taken a job at Starbucks - a company that really takes care of their employees - for 15 or 20 hours a week, I would have had the breathing room and headspace required to progress as a musician without nearly as much fear. PLUS, I would have had coworkers outside of the music bubble to give me some life perspective. If it’s honest work and it pays the bills, AND it gives you time to pursue your craft in the short term without killing yourself, it’s worth considering.

Miss out on important celebrations and activities because “I have a gig.”

This one hurts for multiple reasons. Year after year, I’ve wanted to leave town early to allow for longer family visits at holidays, but as a brass musician, Christmas and Easter are perhaps my busiest gig seasons of the year. Those gigs kept me from more time with my family and friends, and when I look back on what I earned versus what I missed out on, the relatively small amount of money earned pales in comparison. Some things truly are priceless.

So what’s the point of sharing all of this?

If you operate from a place of fear and anxiety, overwork will become normal work, and sometimes, that wear has permanent consequences. While I don’t have any statistics to prove it, I would reach a little further and say that in most or nearly all cases, prolonged overwork has permanent consequences. Are there busy seasons? Yes. You have to make hay while the sun shines. But once the hay is in the barn, you must rest and feel good about the work you’ve done.

You don’t have to work later than everyone and run on pure adrenaline to “secure” your spot or prove that you were the correct hire.

Instead, if you can learn to love yourself and believe that you have something special to offer, your chances of flourishing become much greater. How much easier is it to pour from a full cup than an empty cup?

If you don’t love yourself or believe that you have something special to offer, then it’s time to do the work to make that better. My time with my therapist has been life-changing, but when things got busy earlier this year, one missed appointment became a classic “when things slow down, I’ll start back up again.” Bad move. Time to get back to work on me, so that I can show up in the best way I can.

If you’re healthy, and you know WHY you’re doing the work, WHAT it’s leading to, and WHEN to press pause at the end of the day, then creating a pretty awesome life becomes a much more reasonable possibility. We often hear about going back and sharing advice with our 18-year-old selves. What if we set up things better now so that our 48, 68, and 88-year-old selves can have a better future?