My office is on a one-block street in downtown Raleigh. It’s a quiet street with four office buildings on the south side of the street and two residences on the north. For the most part, it’s a quiet and tucked away location.
For the most part. But, every day of the week without fail, someone at the corner residence begins to practice the drums at 3 pm, charging relentlessly through various drum rolls, rim shots, thumps and bumps until 4:30 pm. Without fail.
Windows closed. Doors locked. Curtains drawn. We hear it.
Malcolm Gladwell, in his book, Outliers: The Story of Success, contends that 10,000 hours of practice can turn anyone into an expert.
Let’s do the math. If my drummer practices 1.5 hours a day, 7 days a week, taking off 21 days a year for his birthday, vacations and holidays, he would put in 417.5 hours of practice a year.
At this rate, it would take him approximately 24 years to reach Gladwell’s suggested 10,000 hours to become an expert percussionist. Which is a good argument to start practicing when you are young. Very young...like say three years old young.
But, what if being an expert at playing the drums, or becoming an expert at anything, is overrated? What if there’s more to life than becoming an expert?
How many hours would it take to get to a perfect double stroke roll? How many hours to become a competent musician?
Or, how many hours will get you to the edge of believing you sound good? Good enough to call up a few friends and form a garage band?
Back to my quiet street. If my office were on a busy downtown thoroughfare rather than a hidden one block street, the drummer’s practice sessions would easily be drowned out by the cars, buses, garbage trucks and people walking by. No one would notice.
But, on my quiet block, he or she is heard and, yes, judged by those who listen to him/her day after day stumble through a drum roll and clip rather than hit a good solid rim shot.
There are days when the drumming is just good enough to become part of the background music of working in a downtown office. And, others, when the practice sessions totter on the edge of awful and people in the building complain to each other about the noise, but no one has ever gone so far as to walk across the street and begged the drummer to stop.
Truth: the drummer has good and bad days, but the practicing never stops. The drummer never gives up.
I have come to appreciate the persistence of the drummer. I have no idea if he or she has ever considered the possibility of becoming an expert or going professional, or if they are working to achieve a flawless smooth drum roll or even hold out hopes of some day being asked to join a band. But, it is clear that there is something very satisfying about the process because the drummer continues to practice, good day or bad, for an hour and a half every
day.
Lately there are times where the practicing feels more purposeful, sometimes even playful. When this happens, I like to believe the drummer is less concerned with becoming an expert than with having a little fun. In short, I’ve come to believe he practices every day because he enjoys playing the drums.
And, for that reason, I’ve come to look forward and listen to these practice sessions. They keep my head clear about my own life goals.
Perfection pales in comparison to the joy of trying...over and over again, to get better.
