Expectation and Adaptation

Today is March 29, 2012.  This is the day my wife is scheduled to give birth to our first son.

Of course, the problem is that Daniel came eight days ago.  Despite our expectation of a March 29 birth date (though I had actually assumed he'd wait and come on April 1 so he'd be an April Fool), we've had to adapt to a baby who decided he wanted to be born on March 21.

What does that really mean for us?  Well, first, it meant we weren't quite ready.  I know that no one is ever "ready" to be parents, but we weren't even ready with all the logistics: a biggie was that the bassinet our son was going to sleep in when he came home from the hospital wasn't put together.  In fact, the night before my wife went into labor, we'd just finished assembling the book case for in his room, and the bassinet/play yard was still in the box.  Thankfully, a plea to my father and sister helped get it put together by the time we came home from the hospital.  In short -- we adapted.

As I looked at the way my wife and I had planned on things going, the way we had expected them to go ... and then looked at how well we adapted to the change in plans, it occurred to me that it was relatively easy for us because we've done it all our lives.  Why?  We're both creative people, and both musicians.

Expectations are what drive us forward, what keep us on track, what make sure we're heading in the right direction in our lives, and especially in our creative lives.  Expectations are the picture of the perfect concert the director holds in his head before he even shows the ensemble the music.  Expectations are the dreams of the finished painting before the brush has even been pulled from storage, before the canvas has even been bought.  Expectation is the satisfaction in the finished composition before the first note has even been laid on the page, before the key signature has even been selected.

In short, expectations are our perfect ideal of how things are going to be.

But life isn't perfect, and our expectations are often far beyond the actuality of the situation.  So what's a person to do?  Adapt.

The first few rehearsals don't go so well, so the director cuts a piece of music to devote more time to the others.  The original idea for the painting isn't flying, but with a tweak here and there, the painter can finish a painting of something else.  What started as a glorious arrangement of the Ode to Joy turns into a very simple arrangement of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.  We change, we adapt.  It's the only way to survive.

Musicians are pros at this, often adapting several times a second, and sometimes before they've even realized they've done so.  When the sound they're producing isn't quite right, they change fingerings, bowings, even intonation in a split second to try to make it so, to bring it closer to their expectations.  Through years of doing this, thousands of hours of practice, they can make their adaptations appear instantaneous, so much so that it sounds like they're not adapting at all, just playing their expectation.

By all means, keep your expectations -- they're not a bad thing, not at all.  But as you create, as you perform, as you live your life, realize that they're no more than hopes and dreams, and that adaptation is what is going to help transform those expectations into reality.  Become a pro at adapting to the situation, and before long, you may have a hard time distinguishing between your expectations and your reality.