#4 in our series: The Four Agreements for Musicians
We’ve chatted about being more impeccable with our word; not taking things personally; and not making assumptions. In our fourth and final look (for now) at Don Miguel Ruiz’s The Four Agreements, we encounter one simple directive:
Always do your best.
Sounds basic, right? Obvious, even. But as my drum students hear me say over and over again, “simple” does not always equate to “easy.”
Something that makes this agreement sneakily profound is the realization that your “best” isn’t a static ideal. It shifts from day to day, hour to hour, mood to mood, gig to gig, scenario to scenario. Some days your best is fireworks (cue: Katy Perry). Other days? Just showing up at all might be the big win of your day.
For musicians, this agreement might be the most freeing of the four. It invites excellence without perfectionism. It accepts effort without burnout. It reminds you that you’re human and gives you permission to show up like one: with commitment, honesty, and compassion for where you are right now, today.
This concept of “best” looks different ways on different days.
One of the most helpful reminders I’ve heard (and constantly need to re-hear) is that YOUR best isn’t about being THE best. Not that THE best isn’t worth striving for, but what we’re really talking about here is offering the highest-quality version of your effort possible within your current circumstances.
Think of a gig you played when you were sick, sleep-deprived, or stressed about a family situation. (remind me to tell you the story of having to keep a 5-gallon bucket right next to the kit during that strip joint gig someday . . . or not)
Did you still show up? Did you still try to bring something honest and useful to the performance? If so, in that very moment in time, that was your best.
Now compare that to a studio session where you were well-rested, rehearsed, and feeling in the zone. Your output may be judged as higher quality in this circumstance, but neither version of you was more (or less) “worthy.” Both versions of you did your best in totally different conditions.
Write down your new mantra somewhere:
“Here. Now. As I am.”
I’m struggling to remember who I stole this from (maybe Brianna Wiest). The general idea is that your best effort is enough, even if it looks different today than it did yesterday, or different than you hope it to look tomorrow.
The Problem with “More”
In relation to our music careers (not to mention every other area of life), we’re regularly fed the notion that more = better. More practice hours . . . more songs written . . . more gigs . . . more followers. But just as “simple” does not always equate to “easy,” doing more doesn’t always mean that we’re doing better.
Sometimes the most powerful action you can take is setting a boundary, canceling a non-essential commitment, or taking a break to reset your creativity. These aren’t signs of laziness. They’re signs of maturity.
You don’t have to hustle your way into the ground to prove your dedication to your craft. You just need to consistently give your current best and trust that (over time) your “best” will improve.
In the Practice Room
Rather than shaming yourself for not logging three hours, show up for 30 minutes of focused, present work.
On the Stage
Don’t obsess over every tiny flub. Instead, gauge whether you connected with your audience and bandmates, and stayed [mostly] present in the music.
In the Studio
Commit to nailing three solid recorded takes with incredible feeling, instead of doing a mind-numbing 30 takes in pursuit of that perfectly flawless one. Know when to stop tweaking.
Take some time for reflection this week. What does your “best” look like right now, in this current season of your life and music? Be honest. Be gracious. And let that be enough.
Doing your best doesn’t mean squeezing yourself dry. It means showing up. Giving what you have. Trusting that consistency over time beats intensity in any given moment, that presence beats perfectionism, and that your real growth comes from honoring the process.
Carry this into all of your music-related endeavors this week. Into your practicing, your teaching, your writing, your playing.
Share it with your students and bandmates.
Let this idea be the quiet nudge that says:
Hey, bud . . . you’re doing great. Keep going.
Happy music making–
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