Musician. Photographer. Writer. Teacher. Living in the pursuit of compassion and excellence.

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I am a musician. Pianist, singer, composer, conductor. Recently, I’ve added organ to that list, and I’ve been working on electric bass because…well, I get bored easily. I’ve gotten many compliments for my musical skills over the years, but the worst of these by far is “You’re so talented.” I shrivel up inside, feeling like a total fraud when those words crash into me. Let me make this perfectly clear. I am not talented. I am not gifted. I am not blessed.

What I am is hard working, dedicated, and thoughtful. Sure I have a modicum of natural abilities well-suited towards the musical arts. That makes me deserving of…nothing. As a teacher, I’ve had hundreds of students over the years. The most naturally talented student I had was horrible. He had no discipline in his practice and little dedication. He plateaued and quit when his “talent” became inadequate for the task at hand, and real work was required. I have another student; she isn’t the most naturally gifted student I’ve ever had. But she goes home and works at it a little bit every day. She listens carefully, and does her best to accomplish the tasks set before her. Week after week, month after month, and now those months are turning into years. In her two years, she’s played Bach, Mozart, Clementi. She’s also learned how to read a lead sheet, and is working on a Sara Bareilles tune from a lead sheet. Talent only gets you so far. A good work ethic will take you as far as you can go.

I see two problems with conflating hard work with talent. The first is that regarding what was accomplished through an immense amount of hard work as just talent diminishes the work involved. I often wonder if this is one of the reasons that musicians are so often undervalued and underpaid. You can go to school for finance, and be working in the industry after getting your degree in 4-5 years. Been playing an instrument like piano for 4-5 years? Good luck getting into college if you haven’t already been working at it for 4-5 years or more! In the jazz world, there’s a term called “woodshedding.” Its where you lock yourself in the woodshed for twelve hours a day for months at a time just to master your craft. Getting good at something like an instrument doesn’t happen by gift and it doesn’t happen by chance. It happens by work.

The second issue with conflating hard work with talent is that people give up when they aren’t good at something, thinking they lack the talent. There are some things that are limited. I don’t have hands big enough to reach some intervals on the piano (10ths!!!! GAH!). There are also notes higher and lower than my voice will ever go. So I will never play piano exactly like Oscar Peterson who had huge hands, or sing like Freddy Mercury who could hit notes higher than half of the alto section in my choir. But beyond those limitations, be willing to put in the effort for the things you want to achieve, even if it doesn’t come easy. To quote from Galaxy Quest, “Never give up. Never surrender.”

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In the past few years, conversations about “fat-shaming” have exploded over the internet. Memes of what “real” bodies look like have popped up like dandelions in spring, only to be met from the skinny community as “Skinny is real, too!” I think in many ways, this conversation pushing against normative ideals of beauty is a worthy endeavor. I also think that the conversations about image are problematic in that they reinforce an image driven society.

Holley Mangold!

In our society, image and health/well-being get conflated into one thing; looking good and feeling good, all in one box. But fitting the norms of beauty means nearly zero when it comes to health. I’m reminded of the first season of Dancing with the Stars when supermodel Rachel Hunter was kicked off after the first episode. She might have had a supermodel’s body, but she had no strength or stamina. On the flip side, Holley Mangold is an olympic weight lifter. Her body is antithetical to the supermodel ideal, but she could bench press three of me.

All of the focus on image has obscured and muddled the conversation on health. Maybe you live in a big body. Great! I hope you love yourself and all of your body! Now, are you healthy? Maybe you’re a chicken-legged stick like me. Great! I hope you also love yourself and all of your body! Now, are you healthy?

I wasn’t. A few years ago, I was horribly out of shape. My slender frame was able to hide the twenty pounds I’d put on, but I knew it was there as the scale would always gladly remind me. And I couldn’t talk about it because I was skinny and would always get a “Oh Craig, you’re fine.” But I wasn’t, and I knew it.

I made a change by defining healthy for myself and setting measurable goals. Now, I’m a huge advocate for ditching image and shame, and focusing on goal-oriented health outcomes. For me, it started with running a mile, then a 5K, and now I’m working toward a fast 5K. It progressed to being able to do five pull ups. My body hasn’t changed all that much, but when the zombie apocalypse hits I’m gonna be ready.

Here are some quick thoughts on goal-oriented health outcomes:

  1. What your body can do matters so much more than what it looks like.
  2. Health has to be defined in the context of the individual. If someone has an illness that prevents them from running, its illogical to expect they run a mile.
  3. Set clear goals with measurable steps and an actionable plan.
  4. You are the only yardstick that can measure you. Don’t worry about what the person next to you is doing. Do your best.
  5. Support whatever you are doing physically with good food and good sleep. That’s a huge part of health, too!
  6. Learn more about your body as you work towards your goal. Its the only one you’ve got. Work with a trainer, take a class, research online, read a book. Experience will also teach you, but only if you are willing to learn.
  7. Be kind to yourself.
  8. Don’t be so kind to yourself that you don’t also push yourself to discover and overcome your perceived limitations.

And the next time you hear someone fretting about body image, ask them if they feel healthy. The next time someone tells you how great you look, tell them how great you feel. Change the conversation.