This Is the Way

This post comes from a book I am working on called Research and Writing for Music History Students: A Field Guide. While the book is aimed directly at students in the music history sequence, the concepts in it apply to anyone who is looking to accomplish research. In this excerpt from the “Principles” section of the book, I discuss The Mandalorian as a reminder that we should commit ourselves to hard work and sacrifice in service of worthy goals.

Note: There is a mild spoiler that discusses the end of Season 1 of the show. There are no spoilers of Season 2.

Things worth doing take sacrifice.

One reminder of the principle of sacrifice comes from The Mandalorian, a television series in the Star Wars universe. As the story begins, it follows a mysterious, helmeted character called "Mando." At first Mando seems like a ruthless, lone warrior, meeting the violence of the world around him with equally destructive force—he would just as soon shoot you as to say "get out of my way." But as the story unfolds, we come to learn that this masked character is one of a tribe of warriors, its members following a strict code of honor.

The masked Mandalorian.

Like many codes of honor, it is enacted through a proverb: when a leader, like the Armorer, confronts a warrior with the statement "This is the way," the warrior repeats it back and acknowledges their duty. This is an affirmation and a committment—and is rarely easy—as its declaration surely foretells a monumental task that will need courage, sacrifice and discipline to see through.

The Armorer (seated) has the authority to challenge warriors in her tribe.

In a scene at the end of Season One, Mando has found himself to be the unintentional guardian of a vulnerable Child (who looks a whole lot like a baby version of Yoda), and seems to somehow have great power hidden behind his helpless guise. Mando's intention is to simply get the Child to safety, then move on with his own life and plans. But when several of her tribe are slain because of Mando’s involvement with the Child, the Armorer challenges Mando with the continued safety of the Child—binding the destiny of the two together. "This is the way," she declares. Reluctantly, knowing that it will cost him his freedom and will probably bring mortal danger, Mando accepts the responsibility of caring for the Child by acknowledging:

This is the way.

Sacrifice and hard work are called for when the goal is worthwhile. For Mando it was a duty to his tribe, but it's true in our own stories as well. Athletes affirm that "this is the way" when they are put through grueling strength and conditioning, endless practices, and the study of strategies and game plans in preparation for the big game. Computer programmers declare "this is the way" when they spend long hours building a software program's architecture, writing the code, and squashing endless bugs. Musicians know about hard work too: building technical skills in the practice room, developing musical interpretations, shaping a piece in rehearsals. Though an inspirational performance on stage can be brief, it belies thousands of hours of preparation and hard work.

Some time ago, I was working with a professor in the college of business at my university. He and I were discussing the ways that the students in our disciplines, music and entrepreneurship, could work together. I knew that courses in business, leadership, and entrepreneurship would be beneficial for music students, but what I didn't know was how the music department could help the business school. "I get excited when music students take my classes," he told me. "I know that if they have made it into the music program, they already know how to work hard over a long period of time to master a skill. I want that to rub off on my entrepreneurship students." While I was hoping my students could get specialized skills in entrepreneurship, he was hoping that his students could be exposed to a deeper skill that is necessary to be successful in the long term: grit, perseverance, and sacrifice. He knew that music students could help with that, because he was a musician too. That comment has stuck with me because it crystallized for me the idea that musicians have a general strength that is not found in every other discipline. They have experience sacrificing, working to do hard things over time.

Becoming a skilled researcher and writer is like becoming a skilled musician. It takes persistent work over time, and an ability to take the long view. It's very much like the process of practicing an instrument in three ways. First, there are long hours by yourself, searching in the library, taking notes, revising the organization of your paper. Second, researching and writing takes effortful concentration, avoiding distractions and delaying gratification. Third, you have to feel the pain of your ideas not looking right, and do the work of shaping your ideas, little by little, into what you want them to be. This is a similar feeling to beginning the practice of a new piece, and feeling the gap between where your ability is now, and where it needs to be to play the piece.

Everyone wants a shortcut. There's a video on YouTube called "how to write your essay in a weekend." It has over a million views. This is just one example of hundreds of "tips and tricks" type videos that play on our desire to skirt the pain of effort. The strange thing is that we believe it is possible in the first place to shortcut the research and writing process. Imagine a video on YouTube called "how to learn all of your recital repertoire in a weekend." Because you have an intimate understanding of what it takes to learn repertoire, you know that this video offers false hope at best, and deeply damaging delusions at worst.

There is also a payoff to taking the way of sacrifice. The student who cuts corners might pull off a good enough grade on that paper to squeak by. But when the assignments get more complex, and the stakes get higher, how will a corner-cutting approach turn out in the end? On the other hand, the student who puts in the time and sacrifices in order to develop their skill will also pass the assignment. But what else have they gained? As they build their skill, they will be able to better complete more complex and meaningful tasks.

Shallow effort leads to shallow satisfaction. But when you have worked hard for something, the satisfaction at accomplishing it is deeper. This is not just a tip to relieve the pain of hard work. This is a way of life, a lesson that can be applied to anything worth doing well.

So do the work. Make the sacrifice. Invest now in building your skill and discipline. Honor the responsibility that has been given to you.

This is the way.