One of the hardest things about learning an instrument has surprisingly little to do with notes, technique, or “playing well.” The real challenge lies somewhere deeper: learning how to learn.

Practise isn’t just a task to be completed. It’s a path: you have to take it to make it. You can read about it, plan for it, and imagine it as much as you like, but progress only comes from opening the door, showing up and taking the next step.

For many of us, the hardest part is starting. Again and again, it often feels like. Sometimes every morning is a starting over, another push off the starting blocks after a false start.

This moment, small as it seems, can feel decidedly daunting when it happens.

When I find myself stuck down there, in my cosy corner of procrastination, hovering on the edge of practice, full of vague intentions but low momentum, I try to pause and check in rather than push through on autopilot. I ask myself a few gentle but revealing questions, such as…

What is actually happening right now? Where is my mind at?

What is my relationship with music at this point in time?

In my heart, what am I feeling curious about, excited by, or quietly drawn towards above all else?

And of course, this time of year naturally invites reflection. Tis’ the season of fresh starts, resolutions, renewed intentions, and quietly hopeful plans for the months ahead. It’s an incredibly inspiring time to stop and take stock, to look honestly at where you are, without judgement, before deciding where you’d like to go next.

Below are some of the questions I’ve been reflecting on recently, along with my own honest answers. They aren’t meant to be definitive or polished: just real.

My hope is that you might find them useful too, perhaps as a way of clarifying your own musical commitments.

⸻

Q: What is actually happening right now? Where is my mind at?

My mind feels full of ideas, and of deep admiration and respect for my students and the trust they place in me. At the same time, it feels quite fraught: busy, stretched, and holding too much in at once.

Q: What is my relationship with music at this point in time?

Music is a hugely vital part of my life. It plays a central role in my emotional and personal regulation, often more effectively than talking or thinking things through. In many ways, music is the language I feel most fluent in.

Q: In my heart, what am I feeling curious about, excited by, or quietly drawn towards above all else?

I feel a growing pull towards composing and improvising more seriously. I’m especially interested in the possibilities of analogue processes, home shows and live, acoustic performance, music that exists in real time, shared in intimate physical spaces.

Q: What are 1–2 things I would like to achieve this term?

Playing with others more. “It takes two to know one”. That means more duet work in lessons, more shared musical experiences, and less of the sense that music is something I do entirely on my own.

I’d also like to be better at recording and production, but I find it very hard to get interested in that.

Q: Why are these goals important to me?

Playing with others sustains me creatively in a way that solo practise often doesn’t. It reminds me why I started in the first place: to connect, to listen, to respond, and to feel part of something larger than myself.

Q: What part of my practice do I enjoy most?

Moments of exploration — when I’m not rushing towards a result, but instead listening closely, experimenting with sound, and allowing myself to be curious. These moments are often quieter and less structured, but they’re where I feel most engaged.

Q: What part do I tend to rush or avoid?

I have a tendency not to finish things. Pieces remain half-formed. Ideas stay in my head instead of being written down. I don’t record nearly enough of my playing, even though I know it would help me reflect and grow.

Q: What usually stops me from practising as much as I want to?

Sometimes it’s simple physical tiredness — my body just doesn’t have much left to give after teaching all week. Other times it’s more emotional, a vague heaviness, a low-level gloom, or a lack of excitement about what lies ahead. In those moments, practise can feel like effort without reward.

Q: Which of these feels like the biggest barrier right now?

At the moment, it’s struggling to clearly see myself. When that identity feels shaky, practise loses some of its meaning. It’s harder to justify the effort when I’m unsure who I’m doing it as.

Q: What could help support my practice?

More awareness of how I’m actually feeling before I sit down to play, rather than ignoring or fighting it. Clearer, more structured goals that feel achievable and meaningful. And perhaps most importantly, a less judgemental attitude, towards my playing, my progress, and myself.

Q: How would I score myself on these criteria?

Repertoire / Playing – 4/5

Technique / Doing – 3/5

Improvisation / Creating – 4/5

Theory / Analysing – 3/5

Audiation / Listening – 3/5

Sightreading / Reading – 3/5

Composition / Writing – 2/5

Practise / Learning – 3/5

Wellbeing / Being – 2/5

Maybe these reflections will resonate with you? Maybe they’ll spark questions of your own? Either way, that moment of pause and curiosity might just be the first step back onto the path.

Good luck and see you all next week!

Will