I am not a drummer
I am one who happens to play the drums
The drums are a tool for me to express my creativity
I am one who happens to be (relatively) good at expressing creativity through drumming

However, Drumming is not a part of me
Were it to disappear from my life, it would not change who I am
If I stopped playing drums, I would still be me
I could still live a meaningful life

If I make mistakes playing the drums, it is MY fault
But it is also a reflection of my humanity
I am not a drum machine or a sequencer
As much as I’d like to be, I am not a robot

To be insulted over criticism of my execution of my hobby is absurd
When the feedback is relevant, as from one of my band mates, it is an opportunity for growth
When someone shits all over me in an nonconstructive manner, it means nothing
In neither case, though, does it have anything to do with ME

Likewise, to become angry and be belligerent toward people who insult my craft is worthless
To beat myself up over constructive feedback is abuse
To be angry with my band mates when they are trying to help me is unkind
And not at all in line with the life I want to live

On the other side of that coin, the adulation of admirers is also equally worthless
If I am to detach, the good must be thrown out with the bad
But really, there is no good or bad
Only what the music needs

I think of a few lines from Rush’s “The Garden”
The measure of my life is not how well I performed
Not the accolades I received
But rather, how I treat people without expecting anything in return

I must, in all areas of life, realize what I do is not who I am
The two are separate, having little to do with each other
I have inflicted enough self abuse due to my perceived inadequacies
Abuse of any kind is morally reprehensible

In the same way computers and air control are not baked into my identity, neither is music
Though it seems, at times, it runs through my veins, it actually doesn’t
Only blood runs through my veins
And not anything else