Adrienne Schroeder

I believe that my purpose is to not sit on the wisdom that has changed my life. Rather, it’s my job to share it. In this sharing I pay it forward to others.

Every challenge and experience that presents itself in my life is an opportunity to learn and expand. To each I ask, “What are you here to teach me?”

Well, the class of life was certainly in session for me the past few months.

I gained the quarantine ten.

Then, I lost it.

Let me tell you, this process of weight gain and weight loss pushed me to the edges of my mindfulness practice.

As a woman, my body image has very strong conditioning attached to it. This was triggered in a big way for me.

Honestly, the idea of moving through it without my tools gives me a shiver.

Sans tools I may have not moved at all.

One of the beautiful things about mindfulness and conscious living is that it’s a lifestyle. It’s a way of being.

It’s not a compartmentalized part of my life for teaching, coaching or artist...

I can’t tell you how many succulents I’ve killed in the past year. The number that have perished in my residence is astounding.

The farm girl from Michigan and the easiest plant to care for. It’s been a blood bath.

I saw so many gorgeous setups with people and their plants during quarantine. It looked so fun and earthy! I thought, “I want to do that. I want to be like that. I will become a plant person during COVID!”

So I bought succulents, brought them home and was so excited to have them. Then, that was the end of it. My life stayed the same.

I set timers to water them and pressed snooze. I forgot they were sitting there on the ledge. Even when I put them purposely in my path, I walked around them.

In my neglect, they died. Upon the deaths I would tell myself, “This time will be different”. I would go buy more succulents, not water them and they would die. The cycle continued.

A similar thing happened with me and cooking.

I saw loads of people creating spe...

Upon releasing my first ever blog for Mindful Music and sharing more about my story, I called my sibling to talk about it. A lot of my story overlaps with theirs. In fact, before planning and writing this blog series, I called again and asked permission.

The answer I received was a resounding “yes”. They said, “People need to know.”, “People need to know that it’s ok to talk about it” and “Someone like me might need to hear this.” They expressed, “People need to know about music as an outlet and that there’s nothing wrong with them.”

People need to know.

I get goosebumps just recalling their words.

With that intention, I share an important part of what I do through Mindful Music in this third and final installment of my blog series, “Teaching is Art”.

Just like a lot of what I do, it really has very little to do with the twenty-five years of formal training I received as a classical musician.

Rather than my time in conservatory, my life and exp...

Last week in “Shoes” (if you missed it, read it here), the first installment of my blog series “Teaching is Art” I dove into the idea of shoes and what it represents in my teaching. This idea of shoes reverberates through what I do at the piano with my students and it doesn’t stop there.

It is my deepest intention that what I do with my students at the piano will echo out into all parts of their lives. As I say, impact beyond the notes.

This reverberation echoes to me just as much. Each young person is a soul on their journey and I am entrusted with key moments in their lives. It’s a big deal.

In holding sacred space for them to be and expand, it helps me be a better person. It calls me to my highest self each and every day. This ripples out into every nook and cranny of my life.

Throughout these ripples in my time as a teacher I have observed, grown, and experienced so much. Mindful Music was born organically. It was just something I did.

I sought to keep the beaut...

I’m obsessed with shoes.

Not in the Carrie Bradshaw heels way - in the fresh sneakers way. Few things make me happier and put a literal pep in my step as clean Nikes do.

As a Chicagoan that generally avoids downtown and tourism central, I somehow never mind a trip to Nike-town.

Why? They make me feel like a boss. They make me feel like I can do anything. With jeans or a dress, they simply rock and then I rock right along with them.

My style is what I would call sporty chic. It oscillates between sneaker-tastic and straight up mermaid.

It’s me. It’s fun and free. It’s Adrienne!

Not only am I obsessed with shoes literally, I’m obsessed with shoes in my life as an artist and teacher - two seemingly different roles that turn out to be one in the same.

Every day as I teach, I create something called “The Land of Shoes”.

Why? Walking through life hasn’t always been sparkly sneakers for me. This land and shoe evolution all started when I...

Once upon a time in grad school my roommate introduced me to the show, Parks and Rec. It ended up being one of the shows we watched on repeat.

It was joyous and silly. We howled with laughter in our small two bed apartment at the end of very long days in conservatory and all that comes with it.

One of the tag lines of the show is famously “Treat Yo’ Self”. The idea being that once a year, or every once in a while, they would have an entire day devoted to treating themselves to luxury and pampering. It’s a day all about lowering stress, relaxation and pure enjoyment.

For my generation (millennials), this has become a turn of a phrase that has permeated our existence. When you say “Treat Yo’ Self” everyone knows what you mean. You are gifting a day, a moment, purchase, a deluxe delight to you.

As I’ve witnessed “Treat Yo’ Self” in myself and the world around me since, I’ve seen it expressed as self-care. I’ve seen it as nourishing acts of self-love that can sh...

Dear Reader,

While the title may suggest so, this is not a breakup letter. At least not between you and I. Instead, this may very well be a breakup letter between me and the forces of “normal”. It’s a breakup and a declaration.

You may be thinking, how on earth could she need space after a year of the pandemic and separation? Hear me out.

The past year I committed to something called the Morning Pages. This is the process from Julia Cameron’s book, The Artist’s Way. It was recommended to me by a dear friend and mentor last spring. Since then, I haven’t missed a single day.

The process involves writing three pages every single morning immediately upon waking. It’s a process of “clearing house” and “brain dump”. It’s clearing and cleansing the mind. It’s processing. As David Allen famously says, “The mind is meant for having ideas, not holding them.”

Beyond the clearing, it was a daily commitment to myself and a new challenge. I loved it. Truth be told, at...

“Where’s the old A?!”

I will never forget my high school softball coach shouting this at me down the first base line.

The spring breeze picked up dirt and swirled it around me as I sulked back to the dugout. Strikeout after strikeout after strikeout. Where was the old A? (Everyone growing up called me A). I wanted to know too.

Just the weekend prior I had hit it out of the park, literally. We had played a tournament - three back to back games on a Saturday with a team that wasn’t in our league. It wouldn’t be on our league record. In my mind, that meant it didn’t count.

So what did I do? I laughed and cheered with my teammates in the dugout. I didn’t’ think. I felt loose. I walked up to the plate and I hit. I hit like I did in the batting cages - even better. I had fun and when I was at the plate my head was empty.

All that was there was me and the ball, and boy did we connect.

A week later walking up to the plate wasn’t even walking. It was ti...

Oh. My. God.

I lost it all.

Crash.

Two weeks ago I was prepping my landing page, copy and the whole framework of my mindfulness coaching program, Divine Design. I spent days and hours fine tuning the layout, the precise words, the images, what teachings would go where and was so excited to share it.

It felt so in alignment and exactly how it was supposed to be presented.

I skimmed over the page on release day, double checking everything - it was time to post!

Literally moments before I intended to share it I pressed “delete” rather than “refresh”. My quick fingers saved my error too.

Oh. My. God.

It’s all gone. I had not saved my copy anywhere else. It all came crashing down.

Rest assured, my neighbors likely heard an earful of expletives (from who, I don’t know!) and my eyes immediately began to fill. I stared at my computer screen in disbelief.

All my soul work, my devotion, my creation - gone. Everything had crash...

“You’re so lucky.” A sentence that shows up time and time again. A sentence that perplexes me. A sentence I’m not fully on board with. Perhaps maybe not even at all.

It’s almost like when people say “You’re so talented”. I feel my brows furrow and my head tilt to the side. Huh?

In my head I have flashes of thousands of hours of practicing, deliberately putting myself out of my comfort zone over and over, two degrees, hundreds of auditions, driving to other states to play for 30 seconds, rejection upon rejection and eventually a few big yeses.

I am not talented. I made that, I created that, I chipped away for decades at that. My aptitude or knack for music would have sat vacant and unsung at my parents’ house if I hadn’t shown up to build it.

I am not talented, I am devoted. My results are a by-product of devotion.

So when I hear the sentence, You’re so lucky, I similarly do a double take. Huh?

As a white womxn born in the US with access to educ...