I’m a sucker for Nike’s Just Do It ads. I see those three simple words and immediately become wild with carpe diem, ready to scale Mount Everest, swim the English Channel, direct the Boston Philharmonic, jam with the Rolling Stones, and surf the banzai pipeline all in the same day. I feel unstoppable. Like I should be wearing a cape. But five minutes later conviction subsides, and instead of seizing the day I’m seizing the television remote deciding between Judge Judy or Doctor Oz.
I’m just a minion to the tyranny of procrastination.
Nothing symbolizes this more than the Hohner blues harp that sits in my upper desk drawer. When I bought it I entertained visions of me blowing on the harmonica like James Cotton reincarnate, sweat pouring down puffed cheeks while wailing on Sonny Boy Williamson and John Lee Hooker covers. An honorary son of Chicago’s South Side. Me, a walking juke joint. But after 11 years my musical repertoire is limited to the first verse of Oh My Darling, Clementine.
Oh my darling, indeed.
Yet I continue to maintain hope. I still believe I can escape the shackles of procrastination and tap into new potentials. History, after all, proves it’s never too late to chase down a vision. Ray Kroc opened his first McDonald’s at 52. Laura Ingalls Wilder published her first book in the Little House on the Prairie series at 65. Saddam Hussein invaded his first country at 53.
A friend, who moonlights as a life coach, told me that every decision must be followed with direct action. After buying the harmonica, she said I should have immediately followed up by taking classes. This would have facilitated momentum.
When I shared I still harbored hopes of expanding my musical repertoire from Oh My Darling, Clementine, she suggested that I temper expectations. In the latter half of life, she added, we should expand for ourselves rather than for public acclaim. A more simplified version of the Buddhist belief that the journey is the goal.
To help avoid the thorns of procrastination, she recommended maintaining a “progress journal.” Just like NFL teams learn from watching videos of their games, she said a daily log would serve the same purpose, allowing me to recognize what actions or habits are holding me back from experiencing life-enriching, creative pursuits.
The following are selected excerpts from this log:
Day 1
This is the day I enter the brotherhood of musicians. My goal for the next 30 days is to average at least one hour a day honing my harmonica skills. I would start playing today, but my slotted practice time coincides with the Rachel Ray Show. She’s hatching a new Sloppy Joe recipe. Can’t miss that.
Day 2
Began practicing today. Stopped after five minutes out of fear I had strained a lip muscle. Researched harmonica playing online. Relieved to read strained lip muscles are not common among harp players. In retrospect, maybe it was just chapped lips.
Day 3
Read today that learning an instrument is similar to beginning a workout regimen in that it should include rest days. Hence, I’ll set aside the next six days for rest.
Day 9
The respite revived my resolve. Had planned to practice for six hours today to make up for the time off, but decided that in order to train like a musician I must dress like a musician. Went online and ordered a grey felt fedora. Will hold off on practicing until the package arrives.
Day 14
No mail today due to it being Sunday, meaning another day of waiting for my fedora to arrive. Very upset. I feel as if society is conspiring against me playing the harmonica.
Day 15
My fedora arrived today, but it’s brown instead of gray. Mailed it back immediately. This means another substantial delay in practicing. Fortunately, I had already penciled in the next seven days for rest.
Day 28
Exactly three weeks into my musical regimen and I’ve played a total of five minutes. I’m behind in my goal to practice 30 hours in 30 days. No problem. I’ll practice 10 hours per day over the next three days. I’m wild with determination.
Day 30
After missing the last three days of practicing, I’ve decided it’s humanly impossible, even for someone with my granite-chipped resolve, to practice 30 hours in one day. Instead, I’ve set sights on a new goal of practicing 60 hours in 30 days. I’d start tomorrow, but I already scheduled it as a day of rest.
