Letting go of goals

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I am one of those people who loves setting goals. New years resolutions, birthday goals, lists of 26 things I want to do in 2026 and more.

Sometimes I hit them.

Sometimes I don’t.

Sometimes I hit them eventually but they take sooooooooo much longer than I want (because I am the world’s most impatient person, and of course if I started playing the guitar last week I should ALREADY sound like Carlos Santana).

Sometimes I don’t hit them but I get further than I ever imagined was possible.

And sometimes, they make their way on my goals list from one year to the next, and even if they don’t make their way onto a list, they never quite go away. One of those goals for me was learning to play the saxophone. I grew up with instruments in the house (piano, recorders and my sister’s violin) and from my early teens, I began to play the flute in our school orchestra. I enjoyed being in the band. Some of my current close friends now were friends from the band. And some of my strongest school memories are of playing Jesu Joy of Man’s desiring. I am pretty sure if I picked up the flute right now I could still play the part (even though it would sound terrible and my breathing would be out of whack!)

At that time, I chose the flute, and my second choice would have been the saxophone. I can say with certainty that playing the flute was my number one choice. But my desire to play the saxophone never went away. After I left school, I continued to play the flute off and on for a number of years, and at one point I joined an orchestra again - for a brief moment, and I have memories of playing alongside a river in the Cotswolds one summer in the early 2000s.

I sang - in choirs (and still do), took piano lessons and steel pan lessons briefly, and all the while in the background that desire to play the saxophone never went away. I looked into options for purchase, for rental and still dreamed of the day that I would play the saxophone.

And years went by until almost 4 years ago, I moved country, and decided it was time to plunge into my saxophone dreams. I found a way to rent a saxophone, I even located a teacher - someone who I had seen perform and really enjoyed - and I was ready. I went along to the first (and what turned out to be the only) lesson and it was exhilarating. So why couldn’t I get myself to book a second?

There were also lots of very good reasons I didn’t practice. I live in a small flat, I wasn’t sure my neighbours wanted to hear my squeaking, and the teacher (who was retired and mentioned it a LOT) only wanted daytime lessons during the week. Still these were not insurmountable. However, eventually after having the sax for a couple of years, I gave it to a friend - who ironically happens to be one of those original teenage orchestra colleagues - who played the sax when we played together! It felt like a full circle moment that I couldn’t ignore when the opportunity presented itself. And also - I realised that it might be time to let go of the saxophone dream. 

When is it time to let go?

Growing up, I remember learning about perseverance - if at first you don’t succeed, try try again. It is one of the skills that I appreciate developing, and is responsible for many of the goals and dreams that I have succeeded at. And I am also aware that sometimes I stay too long.

Sometimes I find it hard to know whether it’s time to let something go or whether to keep trying, and taking different approaches. In truth, I am not sure there is an easy answer to this question I often ask with those repeated or longstanding dreams I have held onto. But in the case of the saxophone, I decided to ask different questions (which I often do when considering acceptance). Some of the questions I asked myself?

What was I imagining doing when I imagined myself playing the saxophone?

What did I feel like I wanted to gain from playing it?

(and my favourite) Then what?

I sat with these questions for months as my saxophone sat quietly in a cupboard. And in the meantime, I occasionally played my flute. Then a few months ago, I attended a singing retreat with my choir directors, and one of the activities was a fun cabaret night. We were all encouraged to bring along an instrument and/or a song we wanted to perform, glam up and get on stage in front of the group! It was one of the most fun and equally thought provoking experiences I have had in years. For the first time in a long time, I stood up in front of a group, and - accompanied by someone playing the guitar, I sang! 

It was wonderful. Preparation for that had occurred during the day when we sat together playing, singing and practicing, and I realised - one of the reasons I had clung to the saxophone dream for so long wasn’t about the saxophone at all! It was about community. I had such fond memories of playing in orchestras, singing in choirs and smaller group settings, and there is something completely magic about making music together. Without that setting, the saxophone just seemed like an empty fantasy.

So I thought about it. About the time and energy that I could place into learning it (even though I had not) and the resistance I was feeling towards it, and I decided that - at least for now - it was time to let the saxophone dream go. Will I ever pick it up in future? Who knows. But I know that sometimes I need to let go some dreams and goals to make space for new ones. Understanding that making music for me - at least at this point in my life (although perhaps it always was)  is about the people I make music with, made me realise that I could dream other dreams - one of which has been the guitar! 

And while this is just a tiny example of dreams that I have let go in the past few years, there have been quite a few that I was able to put down, after asking myself different questions. It can be easy to continue wanting something just because it’s a dream you had in childhood - just as it can be easy to believe things about ourselves into adulthood based on something we believed to be true in childhood (but which may never have been true) - something I wrote about recently.

This is because letting go of a dream can be larger than the dream itself. It can feel like being defeated, like mourning the loss of a future you pictured; of a person who you imagined becoming one day; of someone you used to be.

It can feel so much bigger than the goal or the dream itself, and this is why it can sometimes feel easier to keep coming back to it - even if we aren’t actually doing anything about it. And there may be nothing wrong with that either. But for me - my move a few years ago, returning to the blog, and facing the turn of another decade has made me consider what goals and dreams I have now are those of a younger version of myself who wanted different things - or who wanted the same things but has eventually found new ways to get them.

I have been fortunate to join music communities over the years (the choir I am in now is an incredible one!) and really understanding the importance of community to me has meant leaning into those spaces, instead of feeling distracted by background goals and dreams that I can’t let go of. And so last year I said au revoir to the saxophone, and made space for other dreams. I’ll let you know how they are coming along soon enough.

What dreams do you have that you have had from childhood? Have you revisited them recently? Not to let them go, but to consider what they mean to the person you are now? And what questions do you ask yourself when you are deciding whether to hang on or whether to let go?

I send you big love

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