Anti-Perfect in Play

“Cool! I didn’t know you were a drummer!”

I still freeze up when I hear it, though I’m getting better. That knee-jerk reaction of feeling like I need to explain myself, to reassure well-meaning people that I am, in fact, qualified to lead drumming events despite not being a “drummer.”

Artistic labels, at least in the U.S., have an odd weight to them. If you call yourself something here - a singer, a poet, a painter - that means you’re really good at it. It also probably means that at some point you’ve even earned recognition for it. If those things don’t apply to you, you probably don’t use the label. You may even discount your passion with something like, “It’s just a hobby.”

Somewhere along the way in American culture, we decided that actively making music is reserved only for school children and exceptionally talented adults. The rest of us are just consumers of the arts; we listen, we watch, we buy, and that’s it. 

Covid disrupted this division for a time, when many of us picked up instruments, paints, pencils, and crafts to try our hands at. Not to be good, but more to cope. Creating imperfect things suddenly felt like a perfectly acceptable way to spend time. But once life reopened, that “permission” we gave ourselves seemed to quietly disappear again.

But here’s the thing: creating art, whether it’s music or poetry or visual arts, is satisfying and hugely beneficial regardless of our skill level. I have seen zero evidence that people experience more stress reduction or better emotional regulation based on how good they are at the artform. 

I have, however, seen joy and peace wash over people as they let go of trying to be “good” and just allow themselves to “do.”

It can be incredibly liberating to allow yourself to try something new without worrying about being good at it. We, especially the high achievers among us, are plagued by perfectionism. We don’t realize that our standards (often crucial for amazing work) are sabotaging our ability to find joy when that same perfectionism seeps into other areas of our lives.

This is why Collective Cadence events are intentionally anti-perfect. 

They are not about heavy skill development or being the best, they’re about participation, exploration, and collaboration. They’re about remembering that creating is not reserved for a select few. 

We don’t need permission or credentials, we just need to show up and play.