A fellow goes to New York to attend a concert, but gets lost.
He spots another fellow who’s carrying a violin case.
“Sir, can you tell me how to get to Carnegie Hall?”
The musician smiles and says, “Practice, practice, practice.”
If you’ve read my earlier posts, you already know I’m a believer in reinvention. I mentioned this in posts about saying goodbye to my former band. I also talked about it while starting a new band and the role of growth in both life and music. Reinvention not as a sudden shift, but as a slow, deliberate unfolding. Like songwriting. Like sitting in zazen meditation. Like playing guitar.
In a recent video, Brad Warner compared Zen practice to learning guitar. You can study theory, listen to great players, and understand it all intellectually. Still, unless you practice, none of it really becomes yours. That metaphor stuck with me, especially now.
Even though I’ve played guitar for over 35 years, I’ve never truly thought of it as a technical tool. It’s always been an extension of songwriting, a means of expressing emotion rather than showcasing skill. But this winter and spring, something changed. I started taking guitar lessons. It wasn’t to become a shredder. I wanted to push myself and my new band to a higher level. I want our music to evolve, and that means I have to evolve too.
Funny thing is, I practiced so much that I developed tendinitis in my left hand. So now I’m on a break. It’s frustrating, but also humbling. Because even in rest, there’s something to learn: about balance, moderation, and the limits of discipline.
That’s where the Zen metaphor comes full circle. Warner referenced a famous Zen story from Dōgen’s “Genjōkōan“. It is about how air is ever-existing. Yet, unless you use a fan, you don’t feel it. Liberation, like air, is all around us. But without practice, without the fan, you don’t experience it. That’s how I feel about both music and meditation.
You don’t become a better musician by watching others. You become one by playing, by discovering your unique voice through repetition, mistakes, breakthroughs, and quiet progress.
And the same goes for Zen. You don’t “get” it through clever quotes or YouTube videos. You get it by sitting. Over and over again. Sometimes it’s clear, sometimes it’s muddy. But over time, it reveals something real.
In past posts, I’ve talked about embracing feedback. I’ve also discussed breaking free from genre expectations. Welcoming discomfort is part of creative growth. This is just another chapter in that same story. Whether it’s navigating the end of a beloved band or picking up new skills at 50, the lesson stays the same:
Practice is the path
So yeah, here’s to sitting. To playing. To not knowing. And to finding something true in the middle of it all, one breath, one note at a time.
Jarmo Puolakanaho 