by Marilyn Lorehound
When David, Nicole, and I discussed episode seven of season two of Severance, David particularly wanted Nicole, as a psychologist, to talk about ego death. What transpired was a fascinating conversation, which you can hear on that “Supply Closet” episode (which someone has called “the episode that keeps on giving”).
As a result, I came up with the idea of “ego transcendence” during that conversation (“ego death” never appealed to me, as you will hear in the episode), but it was a few days later that I came up with what was, for me, the perfect metaphor for that. It wasn’t surprising to me that I reached this metaphor one day following our conversation, after a session of deep grieving for the longtime loss of my ability to play in any instrumental ensemble (due to various forms of arthritis beginning in my 30s), and the “rush” such playing brought me.
I realized that, for me, ego transcendence is what happens (when all goes well) while playing in a musical ensemble: an orchestra, a punk band, a choir, a string quartet (I’m a violinist), or a barbershop ensemble. It probably also occurs in things like live theater performances or sports (though sports is not my métier, others would have to speak to that). At first, one must be focused on one’s own part, developing one’s instrumental and musical capacity, learning the music, and growing into it. God forbid you should make a mistake and ruin the entire orchestral performance! This could represent an early stage of ego formation.
Then, you must learn how your part fits in with others. A lot of this will be taught to you by others, particularly your conductor (or your director for a play, or your coach for sports, if that works). This could represent the point at which you learn that you’re not the only ego on the block and how to “play nice” with other egos, as it were. This is what rehearsals are all about. It’s also what trying different relationships is all about: changing fashion styles over the years, musical preferences, or favorite books. But it’s also dependent on other people learning their parts and playing them well; after all, we’re all in this together.
Only when everyone has achieved individual and group fluency can one realize the third element: the music itself. When done correctly, the music fills and covers everyone, even the conductor, with something greater than all those performing it. I will never forget a master class for a string quartet workshop, in which we listened to four young musicians working their butts off to play a movement from a very difficult Shostakovich quartet. Following various observations about their performance by the quartet professionals who were teaching the workshop (the whole purpose of a master class) and even by a few participants, one of the teachers asked a simple question: while you were playing, did you think about your performance, or did you think about the music? The sheepish looks on the students’ faces told the answer clearly enough. With this new understanding in mind, they replayed that movement, and the improvement was breathtaking.
Suddenly, I saw music performance from a whole new perspective. The music itself is revealed when yielded to by healthy musicians who are strong in both their craft and interpretation. They are willing to blend together to become part of something larger than themselves, and each musician can let the music play you to become something more than self, even more than the group: you are one with that which is greater than any name, which I choose to call Love. You have transcended Self – and yet, you couldn’t do it without a healthy self to begin with.