“Where there’s a will, there’s a way!”
I can hear this resounding in my head as I dive into my next project (Beethoven’s "Spring Sonata"). It is a misleading statement, however. I really do have the desire to be good at Beethoven, believe me, but something is keeping me back from practicing today.
With the beginning of every creative venture comes a profound anxiety and listlessness otherwise known as procrastination. Faced with the challenge of learning new material, I often struggle to pick up the violin and play for fear that I won’t realize what’s in my head. But today, experience also teaches me. From my time playing and writing my senior thesis, I’ve developed some strategies for carrying out my latest projects.
For me, starting is all about managing my own emotions. Often it is a vague apprehension that keeps me back from starting a new project rather than poor time management as is commonly thought to cause procrastination. I can easily plan out hours devoted to one activity but fail to make any progress. This causes more frustration and just makes me feel worse. In situations like these, I’ve found that the best remedy is having some introspection and empathy for yourself. Recognizing and validating your emotions does a lot to push you off the ground. Instead of running from them, you’re working with them. That’s always a better deal.
In our sleepless online world, starting is also about cutting out distractions. Easier said than done though. Again, force really doesn’t help much here either. Turning off your phone or setting limits on apps doesn’t do much to attack the underlying problem. My phone gives me a brief sense of pleasure and stimulation, but it is fundamentally empty. Recognizing why I’m using it is the first step to moving onto something else. Before I play, too, I work on trying to center myself in the activity. I take a few deep breaths and start with scales before I work on music.
Starting is also just as much about finishing. I credit much of my progress from two years of playing to being able to 'finish' pieces and being able to be okay with mixed results. What I like about beginner pieces is that they are short and can sound good with a few weeks of diligent practice. Playing something well, even if it is short, provides great encouragement to move on to bigger and better things. When it comes to bigger pieces, I think knowing when you’ve brought all you can to a piece is important. Moving onto something different is better than feeling stuck. Down the line, I always plan on returning to these pieces when I can add more.
All this to say that you are your own partner in life. Working with yourself and recommitting to playing each day are the things which keep me practicing—living, really. Once I’ve started, the world becomes infinitely small. As the music washes over me, everything else fades away. Nothing to distract me from the ancient rooms out of time where many have set up their lives’ work.
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