If there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s that music will always be in my life. I started playing the viola when I was 8, back in the days when my parents appreciated my practicing through a closed door. Through a terrible group string instructor (the first class I ever skipped) and an ultimatum from a tough, but nurturing private teacher, I still wonder what has kept playing all these years.

Is music my passion? My effort? Both? What makes them differnet?

A common cliché we’ve all heard is “follow your passion.” Much easier said than done. An addition, or alternative, to that saying is “follow your effort.” I’ve had experiences where music is my passion; my first time at orchestra camp, having a lesson on the stage of Walt Disney Concert Hall, studying classical music in Vienna itself. But all those rosy memories also had their discouraging moments; literally working through blood, sweat, and tears during coaching sessions and practice only for professionals to repeatedly tell me I am not good enough.  But it when it comes to following my effort, music is definitely right there, too.

Over the summer, a local conductor and pianist in the DC/Maryland/Virginia area facilitated a professional development workshop for my internship program at the Kennedy Center. He also specialized in strategic planning for artists and arts managers. We were to bring an updated resume and a brief description of our five-year plan. As interns like to gossip, my cubicle-mate told me that he heard the workshop is nerve wrecking, that people get put on the spot and end up breaking down. OK, there might have  been potential for that to happen, but that doesn’t seem like professional “strategic planning” or productive career advice.

At the beginning of the seminar, all of our resumes were collected and the facilitator started having one-on-one conversations with each individual, in front of our whole group. It was interesting to hear my fellow interns talk about their current interests and future plans. It wasn’t nearly as nerve wrecking as any of us had thought, and no one broke down. It was really refreshing to hear about different pursuits in the arts. Everyone in that room has unfortunately experienced individuals who condescendingly look upon arts-related careers with comments like “Why would you do that, there’s no money there” and etcetera.

The stack of resumes got smaller, it was only a matter of time before I had to speak. I was rehearsing in my head, in an attempt to be articulate (a personal goal of mine). So when it was my turn, I sat with my spine straight, shoulders open, and a calm, confident voice, to which my great joy received a compliment. He only asked me three questions:

“Why aren’t you working with the National Symphony Orchestra (NSO) here?”

“I expressed interest in the administrative side of the orchestra, but my current position applies knowledge from both my majors of psychology and music.”

“Have you considered orchestral library management?”

“Yes, I have been able to have informational meetings with the NSO librarians and I am going to be working in my school’s music department library in the upcoming year.”

“Are you afraid to pursue a career as a violist?”

I handled the first two with grace, but the third question caught me off guard and my rehearsed confidence went meek, “Yes.”

Music is my passion, and my effort. But those two concepts are so vague. I put in effort into my passion, passion into my effort. My resume is chock-full of the word “music” somehow. But I am finding the intersection of passion and effort. I love playing music, but I am not going to perform as a career. The more I practice and play in groups, the more I want to be part of something that provides those opportunities to others. The more I try to be a part of orchestral community outreach, the more I realize there are much larger social factors that inhibit music education access.

Yes, I am afraid to pursue performance, but I’m not afraid to pursue music. I will never stop playing for myself or establishing ways to bring that to others. As Jim Carrey said in a notable commencement speech, “you can fail at what you don’t want, so you might as well take a chance on something you love.”

So I propose another saying to you, follow your effort, but never neglect your passion.