It’s a big decision: You are picking up a musical instrument for the first time, one you have never played before. Perhaps you have never played any instrument before but have decided it’s finally time to try.
You’re excited and enthusiastic, as well you should be. You are going to play the kinds of songs and compositions you’ve heard and loved for many years.

Naturally, you also feel some trepidation. Am I talented enough? Am I too old? Will it take forever before I sound good enough to play for others?

Think back, if you can, to your first day of school. Did you ask those questions of yourself then? Probably not. More likely you wondered whether you’d make new friends or like your teacher or enjoy what was in your lunchbox. You took for granted that you’d learn new things and that you had the ability to do so. And you knew you’d be in school for many years, so what point would there have been predicting what the future held?

And that, in a nutshell, is the difference between childhood learning and adult learning. Whether contemplating a new musical instrument, a new language, or any new skill, adults ask themselves too many inappropriate questions. We do this because we have self-consciousness, self-awareness, and we have spent so many decades assessing ourselves and being assessed by others that we are habituated to the process.

Of course, self-awareness is a huge blessing. It’s what leads us to make decisions and judge the quality and efficacy of our efforts and motivates us to seek greater mastery.

But that same self-awareness can be a curse. It causes us to compare ourselves unfavorably with others, doubt our capacities, and even generalize deep moral failings from simple efforts of trial-and-error.

We often hear that life is the journey, not the destination. Putting that thought in educational terms, learning is a process, not a product. When we say “live and learn” or “you learn something new every day” we are remarking on the essential connection between living and learning; we are implying, correctly in my view, that when we stop learning we stop living.

The time may come, sooner or later, when you question your decision to take up a musical instrument. You may decide your hands are too small or you have insufficient innate talent or you are driving your partner or child or pet crazy with the sounds of your practicing.

Rational as these thoughts may seem, none of them will be true. So, when you start in on yourself that way, just remember your child mind would never have drawn those distinctions. And that the re-emergence of your child mind is what makes learning your new musical instrument so worthwhile, so enjoyable, and so necessary. Keep playing wrong notes and dropping beats and squeaking and squawking. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be learning. You’d just be repeating yourself. And who wants to be that person?