Of the many events I attended at this year’s NSO, the most impactful was undoubtedly the Latinx festival. I am not Hispanic or Latina, but I very much enjoy speaking Spanish and learning about Latin culture, and I went to the festival looking for an inclusive cultural organization to join.
Wandering through the club booths, I noticed a pair of musicians playing at the end of the line of tables. Out of mere curiosity, I approached the table and asked about the group. It was the Mariachi Band, they told me.
When they asked if I’d heard Mariachi music before, I said yes, which was only a half-lie: Surely I’d heard it sometime before, though off the top of my head, I had only the vaguest idea of what Mariachi was. I knew it was Mexican, and I knew it involved guitars. A few minutes later, my name was on the email list as a potential guitarist and singer for the group.
In the next two weeks, I received the typical 700 emails sent to new undergraduates about clubs and organizations they’d erroneously signed up for at the Activities Fair. Of the few emails that caught my attention, one was for the Mariachi auditions.
I figured I’d show up, be identified as a totally inexperienced player and promptly be dismissed from the group. So on the first day of practice, I arrived with every intention of eating the free pan dulce and never returning to the Casa Zapata basement again.
The group leaders talked to us about the group, the performance schedule and the practice times. They handed out sheet music and I fumbled through the chords, without a pick or any sense of the strumming rhythm. After two hours of cheek-burning incompetency, they dismissed us, with instructions to come back the next day for sectionals. That night, the four of us new members received a formal practice schedule and invitations to join the GroupMe, at which point I realized that there was no audition and that I’d actually been accepted into the group.
I was, to be generous, unsure of my place, but I showed up to all three practices that week, and I have shown up to all three practices each week since. At first embarrassed and shy, I played quietly and apologized often for my mistakes. Nonetheless, thanks to the encouragement of the more experienced band members and lots of practice, I began to improve. More importantly, I began to look forward to rehearsals each week.
Mariachi, to this day, is the highlight of my week at Stanford. The band has offered me two principal gifts: The experience of flow state and a united community.
Flow state, in psychology, is the state of being totally immersed in an activity, mentally and physically, so that you lose track of time and temporarily forget all the other concerns and anxieties of your life. In a state of flow, there is no mental chatter, no ruminating about yesterday or worrying about tomorrow; flow is a connection with the present moment, in all its sensory and intellectual fullness.
When I am at Mariachi, I experience flow as the total concentration on the sheet music, the sound of my guitar and how well I am harmonizing with all the other instruments in the group. Perhaps because I am a beginner, my focus is particularly heightened during practice; I am released from all other mental preoccupations except for the music itself. Being totally immersed by necessity, I get to hear every instrument with an acuity that I’ve never experienced before as a solo musician. At Mariachi, there is no room for p-set anxiety – just chords and lyrics.
I am also grateful for the community and interdependence I’ve found in Mariachi. Being a new student at Stanford can be destabilizing: The rug of home has just been ripped out from under you, and your “new home” is a behemoth institution of over 7,000 undergraduates – not to mention graduates, faculty and staff – each pursuing their own goals independently of one another.
Though there are certainly virtues of being autonomous and independent, human beings also need a sense of community and dependence upon one another – somewhere, somehow, we need to be needed. That is what Mariachi has offered me: A sense that I belong to a group that needs me, even in a tiny capacity. To merely be expected to show up and contribute six hours a week has anchored me here at Stanford, thanks to the kindness and inclusivity of all the members.
During your time at Stanford, whether you’re a freshman or senior, I encourage you to find a club or group that is wholly unfamiliar to you. Ideally, find a group with some sort of creative goal, whether that’s coding, singing, dancing, or writing poetry. Regardless of your skill level, simply show up and give your full attention and commitment. If you’re lucky, you might find your own flow state and an incredible, dependable community while you’re at it.
Contact Avery Rogers at averyr ‘at’ stanford.edu.