The Best That I Can Be

As a banjoist, I have a simple, driving desire; that is, to be “the best that I can be.” In order to identify what that might possibly mean, I have habitually compared myself with the players who I consider to already be the best (though I realize many of them are frustrated by their own limitations). I care little for how well they entertain an audience—only for how well they play the banjo. At the top of this list (in my opinion) stands one person, head and shoulders above the rest; if you know me or have read my past writing, you know who that is (so I don’t need to repeat his name here).

The problem with comparison—especially for a low self-esteem person like me—is that you tend to see someone else’s “greatness” as an indicator of just how short you fall of that ideal! I ride a fine line between constructive motivation/progress and wanting to sell my banjo. I used to say that I have a “love/hate relationship” with the banjo (love playing it—hate the hard work and frustration that it puts me through). As I’ve matured and grown more accepting of myself and my human limitations, I’ve come to realize that this relationship was with myself. I am quite often not nice to myself; that sort of thing can become a habit and damage your psyche.

Part of me wishes that I could just be happy with myself as is. In my twisted way of thinking though, that would mean that I have stopped improving, and “am what I am” for the rest of my life—and that would never do! I know I will sooner or later (hopefully a lot later!) reach an age where physical improvement will come to an end (and I’m cool with that), so I am racing the clock to maximize my potential while I can. It doesn’t help that I was already in my late 20s when I first identified the goal (met, heard, and was inspired by my hero for the first time), and my late 30s when I finally started to move in a steadily-positive direction. Oh, to get back all the precious time I squandered as a kid and young adult—before I learned to believe in myself and my potential, and act accordingly!

Happy for my steady improvement? Oh, you bet! That is a double-edged sword though; conditional happiness is an impure form of happiness. It is a deal I have had to make with myself though to overcome my natural laziness and late start. I like to think that if I were to become incapacitated tomorrow (always a possibility), I would be able to find happiness in what I did achieve; I will have no choice at that inevitable moment. Welcome to my overly thought-out world!

The most confusing aspect of this “be all I can be” quest is that talking about it somehow feels like bragging: “Look at me; I’m working hard, and I’m telling the whole world about my desire to be ‘the greatest’ [that I can be].” I was raised to be humble and quiet, to not speak my true mind for fear of upsetting others (which is all too easy in this day and age!)—something I did very well for too many years. Imbedded in this childhood training was to fit in and not stand out in any way that might draw attention to myself (or again, upset others); the very antithesis of a performing musician mentality.

I share this because I hope someone else will identify with my story and be inspired by it, not because I think I’m anything special (please tell me there are other banjoists out there with big goals. . .). Frankly, my wife is tired of hearing me talk about it! I also have difficulty being this brave in person with others—simply because it might be seen as bragging! It is the language of a confident person though—someone who is confident that they can achieve their written and publicly-aired goals. There it is.