From Resolution to Routine

Designing an environment where practice becomes normal

At various points in the year, not only at New Year, the same thought tends to appear:
”I’d like to start learning an instrument.”
Or “I’d like to improve my practise routine.”

For adult learners, as well as parents supporting young musicians, the intention is genuinely sincere. But the instrument often remains in its case.
This absolutely isn’t through lack of care or ambition, but often just because intention alone is easily drowned out by our, well established, habits and schedules of daily life. What usually matters more than motivation is whether playing has been given a natural place in the day.

Rather than asking: How do I make myself practise? It can be more useful to ask: Does my environment make playing easy, or does it make it awkward?
Have I arranged things so that playing feels like a normal part of the day?

Normal and awkward behaviour

Some actions feel unremarkable in certain places. Cooking always happens in kitchens, I would go to a gym to work out, and watching television on the sofa in the evening doesn’t require a decision at all: the environment is set up such that this is what happens there.

Other actions feel oddly out of place. Practising scales in a busy family lounge at 8pm can feel out of step with the space and the people using it.
That difference matters a lot. When an activity fits its surroundings, it requires less effort or willpower to begin. But when it doesn’t fit naturally, it adds friction or demands negotiation (with others or with oneself) to start.

Where the instrument lives

One of the most influential factors is also one of the simplest: where the instrument is kept.
An instrument stored in its case, in a cupboard, is well protected. It is kept safe.
It is also out of sight and easy to forget.

Each extra step adds friction.
Remembering the violin exists,
Opening the cupboard,
Retrieving the case,
Opening it,
Setting the shoulderrest,
Tuning,
Tensioning the bow,
Checking the bow for enough rosin,

Sounds and feels like a lot of work, right?

Instead keeping the instrument visible and ready to play, often changes how often it is picked up. Visibility lowers the threshold. Hiding raises it.
Not every household can accommodate this, and safety always comes first. The aim is simply to reduce unnecessary barriers, not reduce necessary ones.

Choosing the right space

For many adults, the study or home office turns out to be surprisingly effective. It is a space already associated with focus and routine, and one that is entered at regular schedules during the week. Short periods of playing do fit naturally into breaks, particularly around lunchtime (especially if you have pre-prepared lunch and you don't need to go to the kitchen where you are probably habitually conditioned to scroll on your phone for most of the time).

Placing the instrument where it is immediately visible subtly changes the character of the room. Before you see the desk or the screen, the instrument is there to meet you. Picking up your instrument throughout the day can create a genuine pause, one that rests the eyes, resets attention, and often leaves the afternoon lighter than before. Or bashing out a tune can be an excellent healthy method to work through some anger after a not-so-great meeting with a manager.

Brief sessions do add up. Ten or twelve minutes a day, done consistently, becomes meaningful over time.
4x 5 minutes here or there throughout the day is low-threshold, guilt-free, and builds up to an hour or two a week.

When a separate room isn’t available, a dedicated corner works just as well. What matters is consistency: the same spot, with the instrument and music already in place and out in plain view. The fewer decisions required, the easier it is to begin. You then don’t decide whether to practise; you arrive where practising already happens.

For children and teenagers, a small music nook in the bedroom often works better than open, shared household spaces. This creates a clear association without competing with other activities. Especially if the music corner is visible instantly from opening the door before anything else is.

Over time the body learns, this is 'where' music happens.

Time is also a 'space'

Habits attach themselves to time as much as to a space. Many well-intentioned practice plans fail because they are placed when energy is lowest or routines are already full: late evenings, early mornings, or the hours around dinner.

For many adults, a quick 5 minutes of music during the morning break and a bigger 10 during lunchtime is much more sustainable. A short, defined session creates a genuine break and asks relatively little effort. Over time, the body learns the rhythm. You also got an early dopamine hit because you ticked off the music practice early. For schoolgoers, if the instrument is in view immediately when they enter their room for homework, that's a visible cue to do a little bit of music before anything else. Plus: not starting homework immediately from having been at school all day, already recharges a battery. Practicing music brings with it a mental rest between school and homework.

Over time your mind knows the rhythm: This is 'when' music happens.

And a quick daily reminder on your phone might also do the trick to get the habit started.

Identity follows action

When I was young (actually, I noticed I am still hardwired to feel this), I never identified as a violinist or a musician. I hesitate(d) to claim any musical identity that requires some arbitrary skill level or grade diploma.

And when I then achieved "that" level or "that" diploma, I moved the goalpost as that was my 'normal'. I kept saying: “I’m not really a violinist, I’m just learning.”

To paraphrase Oscar Wilde: there is a difference between nouns and verbs. Calling yourself a violinist carries a lot of social weight and implied standards of skill. Saying ‘I play the violin’ simply describes an action. That hesitation came from treating identity as something that is earned later, and given to me or validated by someone else. Thinking about it this way, it would work better the other way around.

If instead I had told yourself: “I play the violin”, that describes the action, not the skill or level. From day 1, "I play the violin" is true.

Just like "I excercise" is true when you do it, instead of "I am a bodybuilder, or I am a gym go-er" when you pay for a membership (but don't actually make it through the door). If my identity was 'I do' instead of 'I am', I might have practiced more in my youth.

The opposite is also true. My violin teacher once told me: 'Today I can play the violin. Tomorrow? We'll see.'
This means that in order for you to identify as 'I do', you have to actually keep doing it.

Designing for resolution

In music, a resolution is not forced. It happens because the structure allows tension to settle naturally. The act of practicing is much the same.
There is a question worth asking: If your current routines stayed exactly as they are, would they gently and incrementally lead you in the direction you want to go?

If the answer is no, the solution is rarely 'more determination'. It is usually a small adjustment to the environment.

Over time, playing stops feeling like a habit at all. It becomes part of how the day is arranged; a corner, a pause, a moment where sound naturally happens next.
If you’d like help setting up those conditions (through instrument hire, setup advice, or practical adjustments), we’re always happy to talk.

Our aim is not to just place an instrument in your hands, but to help it find a natural place in your everyday life.

The next article offers a practical, step-by-step guide on what to do exactly on beginning (or restarting) with the violin, viola, or cello.