I wrote this essay as part of Write of Passage, a cohort-based course for online writers I took part in October 2023. I published 4 essays over 5 weeks and learned a ton on the writing craft.
Think about something that comes naturally to you; a skill, hobby or maybe a particular way of being.
Now, if someone were to ask you: “How do you do that so well?” What would you say?
Be honest.
If you’re like most people, you may be tempted to give a short, neat explanation. Something that fits on a bumper sticker. You try to compress months, years, or perhaps a lifetime, of understanding in that domain. And most of what you say might be true! Certain actions, events or rituals may have legitimately helped you develop in your craft.
Still, the truthful answer would be: “I have no idea”.
That’s how I feel about drumming, which I’ve been doing since I was 13 years old. Put me in a studio with anyone from John Mayer to James Hetfield from Metallica, and I’ll crank out a groovy drum beat, no problem. Ask me how I do it, and I couldn’t tell you.
Learning to play the drums has always been, at the macro level, a complete blur. Pure ignorance even. In the moment, I had no clue I was improving. At the micro level, it was all-out war. An agonizing tussle between chaos and order, with persistent hand blisters, bottomless laundry baskets of sweaty tees, and too many broken sticks to count.
At each stage of the journey, I was alone, trying to chart a path through the murky jungle. It was only after years had passed that I found myself arriving at a small peak in The Drumalayas, overlooking a foggy field of lush, green trees, where I had been previously flailing about.
It was never as straightforward as putting the mythical ‘10,000 hours’ in. And it’s not because my best friend Alex, the guitar wizard, and I jammed in our high school’s music studio day in and day out. Or because I never learned how to read drum sheet music, and only played by ear. Or because I felt challenged by Dream Theater drummer Mike Portnoy's blazing-fast drum fills. Or because I never pursued any formal lessons since I enjoyed learning my own way.
It’s actually all of those things, and none at the same time. These events, patterns and facts reveal themselves only when I look back and connect the dots. They are the byproduct of intrinsic motivation. Where that motivation comes from, I don’t know, but it manifested itself in my unique exploratory journey around drumming.
When we see others achieve something we want, we try to follow their footsteps in formulaic fashion, instead of seeking to understand what conditions led to those results in the first place. Even when we pinpoint those conditions, we try to replicate them, which doesn’t end up producing the result we seek anyway!
For example, if I had to learn the drums from scratch again, and I followed my approach like a recipe e.g. by only learning to play Dream Theater songs or going self-taught, then I’d be a lesser drummer than the version of me that pursued it naturally and wasn’t consciously trying to control how the process unfolded.
This can apply to every other pursuit in our lives. We ask people “How?” because what we’re really looking for is a prescription; an excuse to avoid being in that jungle, all alone, forced to figure things out for ourselves. And it’s understandable! The jungle is a scary place to be. It’s littered with bear traps, poisonous snakes, and dead ends, and there’s no guarantee we’ll make it to the peaks.
So what should we do instead? I have no idea, and I’m not going to give you a prescription or tell you what you should do. But I’ll tell you what I’m going to do: I’m getting in that jungle.