Drumming on Butterfly Wings

The Rhythm of Free Will: Drumming Through Determinism

Have you ever sat behind a drum kit, sticks in hand, and wondered where the next fill will come from? Is it a conscious choice, or does it arise from some deeper, subconscious place? Lately, I've been pondering these questions, not just in relation to music but to life itself.

An idea has been haunting me: I feel like I used to be a better drummer. I remember being faster, more fluid, more connected to the music. But recently, playing feels hard. My hands feel sluggish, and the drumsticks seem foreign. Is it just because I'm getting older?

If I ignore reality, it's easy to be hard on myself. But the truth is, several years ago, I left the music studio where I taught because it was unsafe to teach in person. This led to a massive reduction in students and lessons, as I no longer had a reliable way to connect locally. Every gig evaporated, except for the ones I livestreamed from home. My playing time decreased by 80%. I fell into a depression and became a self-medicated couch potato, playing even less. It makes sense that after years of this, there's a disconnect. While I've been playing more lately, it's still not the volume or intensity it once was. During that time, I took up photography, which consumed hours just to make ends meet.

As I sit on my practice pad, going through the Rudimental Ritual—a routine I've done thousands of times—I wonder why it feels so alien...

Side Note-The Rudimental Ritual: A Legacy of Percussion

The Rudimental Ritual is a comprehensive drumming exercise created by the legendary jazz drummer Alan Dawson. It's a sequence of standard drum rudiments—basic patterns that are the building blocks of drumming—played continuously without stopping, often on a practice pad or snare drum. Dawson developed this routine to help drummers internalize these fundamental patterns, improve stick control, and develop endurance. It's a rite of passage for many drummers, a foundational exercise that connects us to the history and discipline of our craft. (end side note)

...but today, even this familiar ritual feels distant. Adequately explaining where I am allows me to make different decisions or at least not constantly blame myself in a discouraging way. There's a difference between responsibility and blame. Responsibility is a dispassionate accounting of causal factors; blame is moral ire directed at oneself, often leading to punishment in the form of rumination and self-devaluation.

Improvisation: The Sum of Our Influences

When I'm in the middle of a performance, fills and rhythms flow through me. Sometimes, they feel like conscious choices; other times, they emerge spontaneously. What comes to mind is a result of the music I've listened to, my influences, my teachers' opinions, and whether I'm the type of person who follows advice or purposely does the opposite—a personality trait I was born with.

Each improvisation is a tapestry woven from countless threads: the grooves of drummers I admire, the critiques of instructors, the subconscious assimilation of rhythms from songs I've heard. Even my contrarian streak plays a role—if someone suggests a particular approach, I might instinctively explore the opposite, just to see where it leads. These tendencies aren't decisions made in the moment; they're the culmination of lifelong patterns shaped by genetics and environment.

Determinism and the Illusion of Control

Recently, during one of my reading binges, I delved into the work of biologist Robert Sapolsky. His perspective on why we don't have free will—and why it doesn't matter—resonated with me. In his book "Determined," he argues that life works regardless of whether free will exists. All mechanisms of responsibility, the legal system, accountability, and personal striving can be explained based on preceding events—what came a minute, an hour, a day, or a year before.

Sapolsky explains that while systems are deterministic and outcomes depend on variables, these variables also depend on each other. Even in deterministic systems, especially dynamic ones like human behavior, we can't make 100% accurate predictions.

The Three-Body Problem and the Chaos of Life

This unpredictability is illustrated by the "three-body problem" in physics. The problem seeks to predict the motions of three celestial bodies interacting gravitationally. While the equations governing their motion are known, their interactions are so complex that their future positions become practically impossible to predict over time. Small differences in initial conditions can lead to vastly different outcomes—a concept known as sensitivity to initial conditions or chaos theory.

This principle is echoed in weather science. Meteorologists use sophisticated models to predict weather patterns, but the atmosphere is a dynamic system influenced by countless variables. A tiny change—a "butterfly flapping its wings"—can significantly alter the forecast. Despite deterministic laws, the system's complexity makes precise long-term predictions unattainable.

We are dynamic systems too. Efforts in one direction influence and are influenced by countless factors. The simplistic advice to "just practice and you'll get better" doesn't account for the dynamism of life. The individualistic approach suggests that if others have achieved something, we can too, regardless of our circumstances or biology. If we don't, we are to "blame."

But what if free will is like improvising on the drums? When I'm in the moment, the fills that emerge are not solely products of conscious choice. They're influenced by my practice, my musical influences, my teachers, my innate personality traits—even whether I tend to follow advice or rebel against it. These elements were shaped long before I sat down at the kit.

IF free will exists, perhaps it's just one of many influences that determine who we are—a small butterfly flapping its wings amidst a storm of biology and environment. We don't choose our genetics, our upbringing, or many of the circumstances that shape us. Recognizing this isn't about absolving responsibility but understanding the myriad factors at play.

It's humbling—and a bit frightening—to consider that we might not control whether we're "good" people. Different brains, experiences, and environments lead to different outcomes. Some people couldn't have done otherwise, and blaming them ignores the complex interplay of factors that shaped their actions. The people around me that push to get better influence me to push.

Blame vs. Responsibility: The Biological Roots of Self-Judgment

Adequately explaining where I am allows me to make different decisions or at least not constantly blame myself in a way that's discouraging and self-defeating. There's a critical difference between responsibility and blame. Responsibility is a dispassionate accounting of causal factors—it's understanding the chain of events and influences that have led me to this point. Blame, on the other hand, is moral ire directed inward, often leading to punishment through rumination and self-devaluation.

Robert Sapolsky offers insightful perspectives on why blame is so hard to shake. He explains that our tendency to assign blame—to ourselves or others—is deeply rooted in our biology. Humans are inherently social creatures, and our brains have evolved to navigate complex social hierarchies. This predisposes us to constant comparison with others, a trait that served our ancestors in understanding their place within a group but can be detrimental in modern contexts.

This incessant comparison triggers stress responses governed by our biology. The amygdala, the brain's emotion center, responds to perceived social threats or failures by activating the body's stress response. Cortisol and other stress hormones flood our system, making feelings of blame and inadequacy more intense and harder to dismiss.

Moreover, Sapolsky highlights that our stress levels and resilience are significantly influenced by biological factors. Genetics play a role in how our bodies regulate stress hormones. Some people have genetic variations that make their stress response systems more reactive, while others may have a more muted response. Early life experiences also shape our neural pathways. Chronic stress or trauma can sensitize the amygdala, making us more prone to anxiety and self-critical thoughts later in life.

You ever notice how some people have stories of an overbearing music director or a hard-ass teacher, and they cite those teachers as the reason they play the way they do? Being a hard-ass or using embarrassment as a motivator only works on specific types of people. Maybe being told that someone might go to HELL because you played the wrong thing in a church service isn't the best way to get someone to grow. (True Story). There are some obstinate people who grow in spite of those people. I am not the reason I'm so opinionated. I was born that way. LOL. There are many people who aren't biologically built or don't have the personality to deal with that type of pressure. Those people quit. Are those people less worthy to be professionals? Or would a softer touch—a method more willing to help them build resilience—allow them to share the stage? How many more wonderful musicians would there be if blame and moral responsibility weren't so heavily instilled in us in relation to success and performance skills? Are the people who need a little more help just not worth the time?

Rebuilding and Moving Forward

When I think about rebuilding my drumming skills, I realize that to recapture some of the magic from years ago, I need to play as much as I did back then. But I also recall that during that time, I was shorter-tempered, more sarcastic, and lacked foresight. As I approach my 40s, I want to rebuild from the ground up, aiming for sustainability over sheer speed or flashiness.

Interestingly, people still enjoy my playing—it's me who feels it's lacking. That's something I need to contend with as part of my growth. I have ADHD, I'm over six feet tall, I'm Black—these are not choices I've made, but aspects of who I am that I navigate daily. I can express gratitude for the positive influences in my life, knowing that positivity tends to yield more positivity. For example, I would never have considered giving up drinking if it weren't for the people around me who challenged themselves by giving up things that made them feel comfortable. I had to be around many people like that for YEARS before I was motivated to try myself. This month will mark ONE YEAR without alcohol.

If I continue to practice and meet quality people, chances are momentum will build. I have to trust that process. LUCKILY I'm surrounded by amazing individuals. I need to condition myself to handle my darker sides, building resilience to move forward. As author Steven Pressfield notes in The War of Art, we're not in control of the outcome; we can only control the work.

I want to be around people who inspire me to do the work and improve its quality. Discipline can wane without such influences. I'm not wholly self-motivated; I pursue things I desire and sometimes err in my approach. But by being wrong, we learn.

I've learned a lot—even if not in ways I anticipated. While I haven't accomplished everything I've wanted, the skills I've gained have been rewarding and helpful in unexpected ways. So, increasingly, I'm trying to relax and simply be. This ride called life will end someday, and I don't know when. I'm tired of fearing that end without doing the things I love.

My practice now, as I near my 40s—which is only a month away—is to suffer less and enjoy the journey. I'm feeling the pressure to do what I want now, even if it's not in the ideal way I envisioned. And that's okay. It's about being grateful and embracing the present. It doesn't bother me that I may not have "Free" Will. That doesn't change the FACT that I want what I want. While everything in my sphere of influence is my "responsiblity," It's not my FAULT. Thinking about that makes the sticks feel just a little lighter.

So, I'm going to get back to practicing.

References:

• Sapolsky, R. M. (2023). Determined: A Science of Life Without Free Will. Penguin Press.

• Pressfield, S. (2002). The War of Art: Break Through the Blocks and Win Your Inner Creative Battles. Warner Books.

Further Reading on Free Will and Determinism:

• Dennett, D. C. (2003). Freedom Evolves. Viking Penguin.

• Harris, S. (2012). Free Will. Free Press.