#startagain — Public Fediverse posts

WHEN LIFE INTERRUPTS THE MUSIC; Series 1

When the Music Had to Pause

A personal reflection on interruptions, responsibilities, and learning when to step back without giving up.

There is a particular kind of silence that musicians understand.

It is the silence after the final chord has faded.

The silence before the first note of a performance.

The silence that comes when an instrument is waiting to be played.

But there is another kind of silence that is not found in music itself.

It happens when life interrupts the music.

Sometimes, you do not stop because you have lost your passion. You stop because something else suddenly requires your attention.

A family responsibility arises. A new opportunity changes your direction. Work becomes demanding. You relocate. Your priorities change. You experience disappointment.

Or life simply presents circumstances that were never included in the plan.

I have experienced some of these moments myself.

And one of the lessons I have gradually learned is this:

Not every pause is a departure from purpose. Sometimes, it is part of the journey toward it.

When Your Passion Meets Your Responsibility

For many years, music has been deeply woven into my life.

It has been my profession, my passion, my means of serving people, a platform for teaching and mentoring, and a significant part of how I have expressed myself.

As a musician, it is easy to develop an internal expectation that music should always have a place on the schedule.

There should be time to practise. Time to teach. Time to prepare. Time to rehearse. Time to perform. Time to create.

But life does not always cooperate with our schedules.

I remember one particularly significant moment when my wife went into labour on the very day a choir concert was scheduled.

I was expected to conduct the concert.

The choir had prepared.

People were waiting.

There was a responsibility to the music and to the people involved.

But there was another responsibility that was even more immediate: my family.

For a musician who takes commitments seriously, that kind of situation can create a difficult internal conflict.

Do I fulfil my responsibility to the choir?

Or do I respond to what is happening at the hospital?

It was one of those moments when life reminded me that although music is important, music is not the whole of life.

There are moments when the most important thing you can conduct is not an orchestra or choir.

Sometimes, you have to conduct your priorities.

And that requires wisdom.

When the Schedule Changes, But the Purpose Remains

One of the mistakes we can make is assuming that if we cannot do something in the way we previously did it, then we are no longer pursuing it.

I have learned that this is not always true.

There have been seasons when my relationship with music changed because my circumstances changed.

At one point, after taking a job overseas, my schedule became significantly busier. The time I once had for regular piano practice became limited.

For a musician, reduced practice can feel uncomfortable.

You know what consistent practice does.

You also know what happens when consistency is disrupted.

But instead of abandoning music altogether, I began to look for another way to remain connected to it within the reality of that season.

With the limited time available to me, I started recording piano instrumentals for YouTube—music designed around meditation, mindfulness, devotion, and reflection.

https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLxMN1YMton_qk1kTgbe5mpmGTrzgxGR_M&si=iYosmxOS88EGG3dJ

I also began writing down musical ideas and experiences as blog content.

It was different from what I had previously done. But it was still music. The expression had changed. The method had changed. The environment had changed. The purpose had not disappeared.

That experience taught me something I now consider very important:

When circumstances change, sometimes the question is not, “How do I continue exactly as before?” but, “How can I remain faithful to what matters within this new reality?”

The Danger of Fighting Every Interruption

We often celebrate persistence—and rightly so.

We tell people:

Don’t quit. Keep going. Never give up. Stay committed.

These are valuable principles. But there is another lesson we do not discuss enough:

Sometimes you need to pause without interpreting the pause as failure.

There are seasons when continuing at the same pace is simply not wise.

A parent may need to temporarily reduce professional commitments.

A musician may need to take another job.

A business owner may need to restructure.

A student may need to attend to family circumstances.

A professional may need to relocate.

Someone may need to step away from an opportunity in order to deal with something more important.

That does not automatically mean the dream is dead.

Sometimes, it means life has introduced another movement into the composition.

And just as music contains rests, life contains pauses.

A rest in music is not an empty mistake.

It has a purpose. It creates space. It separates phrases. It establishes anticipation. It gives the next sound meaning.

Perhaps some seasons of our lives function the same way.

I Have Also Learned That Identity Can Be Tested During an Interruption

One of the difficult things about stepping away from something you love is that you may begin to question who you are without it.

For someone whose life has been deeply connected to music, what happens when there is less teaching? Less performing? Less practice? Less production? Less time at the instrument?

It is easy to think:

“Am I still progressing?”

“Am I falling behind?”

“Have I lost my place?”

“Will I still be relevant when I return?”

Those questions are understandable.

But experience has taught me that your current activity does not completely define your identity.

There were seasons when I was doing less of certain things musically, yet I was learning more about leadership, responsibility, people, family, adaptability, and life.

Those lessons eventually became part of the musician I became.

They also influenced how I teach, mentor, lead, communicate, and relate to people.

Sometimes, the experiences we consider unrelated to our calling are actually helping to prepare us for the next expression of it.

What If the Interruption Is Teaching You Something?

Looking back, I can see that some of the interruptions in my journey gave me lessons that uninterrupted progress might not have taught me.

Music teaches discipline. But family teaches responsibility.

Music teaches listening. But life teaches us that listening is not only about sound—it is also about understanding people.

Music teaches timing. But life teaches us that not everything should happen on our preferred timetable.

Music teaches dynamics. But life teaches us that there are seasons when we must be loud and seasons when we must be quiet.

Music teaches us about rests. But life teaches us how to pause.

And perhaps that is why some interruptions should not immediately be viewed as obstacles.

Sometimes, they are classrooms.

The Difference Between Pausing and Quitting

There is an important distinction between these two.

Quitting says:

“I no longer want this.”

Pausing says:

“This cannot receive the same attention from me right now.”

The two may look similar from the outside. But internally, they can be completely different.

You may temporarily stop performing while still being a musician.

You may reduce your practice while still developing as a musician.

You may step away from a particular role while still carrying the experience it gave you.

You may change direction professionally without abandoning the values and skills that shaped you.

The important thing is to be honest about why you are stepping back.

Sometimes the pause is necessary.

Sometimes it is strategic.

Sometimes it is forced by circumstances.

And sometimes, if we are honest with ourselves, we have simply lost the desire.

Understanding the difference matters.

What I Would Tell My Younger Self

If I could speak to the younger version of myself who was trying to make sense of every unexpected turn, I would probably say:

You don’t have to panic every time the plan changes.

You don’t have to interpret every delay as rejection.

You don’t have to assume that every detour has taken you away from your destination.

And you don’t have to measure your entire journey by how much you accomplished in one particular season.

Some seasons are for building. Some are for learning. Some are for serving. Some are for family. Some are for recovery and reflection. Some are for starting again.

And sometimes, several of these things happen at the same time.

The important thing is to remain intentional.

The Lesson for Me

I have come to understand that life is not a perfectly rehearsed musical score.

There are unexpected changes.

There are pauses.

There are repetitions.

There are transitions.

There are moments when you miss an entrance.

There are moments when another instrument becomes more important than yours.

And there are moments when you have to stop playing one part so you can attend to something happening somewhere else.

That does not necessarily mean the composition has failed. It may simply mean the arrangement has changed.

My experiences have taught me to appreciate the seasons when the music is loud—and to respect the seasons when it becomes quiet.

Because sometimes, the quiet season is doing something inside us that the busy season never could.

A Thought to Take With You

Perhaps something in your own life has been interrupted.

Maybe it is your career, education, business, ministry, music, or your plans for your family, or a dream you once believed would have happened by now.

Before you conclude, ask yourself a different question:

“What is this season asking me to learn, become, or prioritise?”

You may discover that the interruption is not the end of your story.

It may simply be a different part of it.

“A pause in the music does not mean the musician has forgotten the song. Sometimes, the pause creates the space needed to hear what should come next.”— Victor Adenola

Coming Next — Series 2: What Life Teaches Us Outside the Music

Sometimes, the lessons that shape us most are not learned behind an instrument, on a stage, or in a rehearsal room. They are learned through family, work, relationships, responsibility, disappointment, and everyday life.

In Series 2, I reflect on the lessons I have learned outside the music—and how those experiences eventually found their way back into the musician, teacher, leader, husband, father, and person I am becoming.

WHEN LIFE INTERRUPTS THE MUSIC; Series 1

When the Music Had to Pause

A personal reflection on interruptions, responsibilities, and learning when to step back without giving up.

There is a particular kind of silence that musicians understand.

It is the silence after the final chord has faded.

The silence before the first note of a performance.

The silence that comes when an instrument is waiting to be played.

But there is another kind of silence that is not found in music itself.

It happens when life interrupts the music.

Sometimes, you do not stop because you have lost your passion. You stop because something else suddenly requires your attention.

A family responsibility arises. A new opportunity changes your direction. Work becomes demanding. You relocate. Your priorities change. You experience disappointment.

Or life simply presents circumstances that were never included in the plan.

I have experienced some of these moments myself.

And one of the lessons I have gradually learned is this:

Not every pause is a departure from purpose. Sometimes, it is part of the journey toward it.

When Your Passion Meets Your Responsibility

For many years, music has been deeply woven into my life.

It has been my profession, my passion, my means of serving people, a platform for teaching and mentoring, and a significant part of how I have expressed myself.

As a musician, it is easy to develop an internal expectation that music should always have a place on the schedule.

There should be time to practise. Time to teach. Time to prepare. Time to rehearse. Time to perform. Time to create.

But life does not always cooperate with our schedules.

I remember one particularly significant moment when my wife went into labour on the very day a choir concert was scheduled.

I was expected to conduct the concert.

The choir had prepared.

People were waiting.

There was a responsibility to the music and to the people involved.

But there was another responsibility that was even more immediate: my family.

For a musician who takes commitments seriously, that kind of situation can create a difficult internal conflict.

Do I fulfil my responsibility to the choir?

Or do I respond to what is happening at the hospital?

It was one of those moments when life reminded me that although music is important, music is not the whole of life.

There are moments when the most important thing you can conduct is not an orchestra or choir.

Sometimes, you have to conduct your priorities.

And that requires wisdom.

When the Schedule Changes, But the Purpose Remains

One of the mistakes we can make is assuming that if we cannot do something in the way we previously did it, then we are no longer pursuing it.

I have learned that this is not always true.

There have been seasons when my relationship with music changed because my circumstances changed.

At one point, after taking a job overseas, my schedule became significantly busier. The time I once had for regular piano practice became limited.

For a musician, reduced practice can feel uncomfortable.

You know what consistent practice does.

You also know what happens when consistency is disrupted.

But instead of abandoning music altogether, I began to look for another way to remain connected to it within the reality of that season.

With the limited time available to me, I started recording piano instrumentals for YouTube—music designed around meditation, mindfulness, devotion, and reflection.

https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLxMN1YMton_qk1kTgbe5mpmGTrzgxGR_M&si=iYosmxOS88EGG3dJ

I also began writing down musical ideas and experiences as blog content.

It was different from what I had previously done. But it was still music. The expression had changed. The method had changed. The environment had changed. The purpose had not disappeared.

That experience taught me something I now consider very important:

When circumstances change, sometimes the question is not, “How do I continue exactly as before?” but, “How can I remain faithful to what matters within this new reality?”

The Danger of Fighting Every Interruption

We often celebrate persistence—and rightly so.

We tell people:

Don’t quit. Keep going. Never give up. Stay committed.

These are valuable principles. But there is another lesson we do not discuss enough:

Sometimes you need to pause without interpreting the pause as failure.

There are seasons when continuing at the same pace is simply not wise.

A parent may need to temporarily reduce professional commitments.

A musician may need to take another job.

A business owner may need to restructure.

A student may need to attend to family circumstances.

A professional may need to relocate.

Someone may need to step away from an opportunity in order to deal with something more important.

That does not automatically mean the dream is dead.

Sometimes, it means life has introduced another movement into the composition.

And just as music contains rests, life contains pauses.

A rest in music is not an empty mistake.

It has a purpose. It creates space. It separates phrases. It establishes anticipation. It gives the next sound meaning.

Perhaps some seasons of our lives function the same way.

I Have Also Learned That Identity Can Be Tested During an Interruption

One of the difficult things about stepping away from something you love is that you may begin to question who you are without it.

For someone whose life has been deeply connected to music, what happens when there is less teaching? Less performing? Less practice? Less production? Less time at the instrument?

It is easy to think:

“Am I still progressing?”

“Am I falling behind?”

“Have I lost my place?”

“Will I still be relevant when I return?”

Those questions are understandable.

But experience has taught me that your current activity does not completely define your identity.

There were seasons when I was doing less of certain things musically, yet I was learning more about leadership, responsibility, people, family, adaptability, and life.

Those lessons eventually became part of the musician I became.

They also influenced how I teach, mentor, lead, communicate, and relate to people.

Sometimes, the experiences we consider unrelated to our calling are actually helping to prepare us for the next expression of it.

What If the Interruption Is Teaching You Something?

Looking back, I can see that some of the interruptions in my journey gave me lessons that uninterrupted progress might not have taught me.

Music teaches discipline. But family teaches responsibility.

Music teaches listening. But life teaches us that listening is not only about sound—it is also about understanding people.

Music teaches timing. But life teaches us that not everything should happen on our preferred timetable.

Music teaches dynamics. But life teaches us that there are seasons when we must be loud and seasons when we must be quiet.

Music teaches us about rests. But life teaches us how to pause.

And perhaps that is why some interruptions should not immediately be viewed as obstacles.

Sometimes, they are classrooms.

The Difference Between Pausing and Quitting

There is an important distinction between these two.

Quitting says:

“I no longer want this.”

Pausing says:

“This cannot receive the same attention from me right now.”

The two may look similar from the outside. But internally, they can be completely different.

You may temporarily stop performing while still being a musician.

You may reduce your practice while still developing as a musician.

You may step away from a particular role while still carrying the experience it gave you.

You may change direction professionally without abandoning the values and skills that shaped you.

The important thing is to be honest about why you are stepping back.

Sometimes the pause is necessary.

Sometimes it is strategic.

Sometimes it is forced by circumstances.

And sometimes, if we are honest with ourselves, we have simply lost the desire.

Understanding the difference matters.

What I Would Tell My Younger Self

If I could speak to the younger version of myself who was trying to make sense of every unexpected turn, I would probably say:

You don’t have to panic every time the plan changes.

You don’t have to interpret every delay as rejection.

You don’t have to assume that every detour has taken you away from your destination.

And you don’t have to measure your entire journey by how much you accomplished in one particular season.

Some seasons are for building. Some are for learning. Some are for serving. Some are for family. Some are for recovery and reflection. Some are for starting again.

And sometimes, several of these things happen at the same time.

The important thing is to remain intentional.

The Lesson for Me

I have come to understand that life is not a perfectly rehearsed musical score.

There are unexpected changes.

There are pauses.

There are repetitions.

There are transitions.

There are moments when you miss an entrance.

There are moments when another instrument becomes more important than yours.

And there are moments when you have to stop playing one part so you can attend to something happening somewhere else.

That does not necessarily mean the composition has failed. It may simply mean the arrangement has changed.

My experiences have taught me to appreciate the seasons when the music is loud—and to respect the seasons when it becomes quiet.

Because sometimes, the quiet season is doing something inside us that the busy season never could.

A Thought to Take With You

Perhaps something in your own life has been interrupted.

Maybe it is your career, education, business, ministry, music, or your plans for your family, or a dream you once believed would have happened by now.

Before you conclude, ask yourself a different question:

“What is this season asking me to learn, become, or prioritise?”

You may discover that the interruption is not the end of your story.

It may simply be a different part of it.

“A pause in the music does not mean the musician has forgotten the song. Sometimes, the pause creates the space needed to hear what should come next.”— Victor Adenola

Coming Next — Series 2: What Life Teaches Us Outside the Music

Sometimes, the lessons that shape us most are not learned behind an instrument, on a stage, or in a rehearsal room. They are learned through family, work, relationships, responsibility, disappointment, and everyday life.

In Series 2, I reflect on the lessons I have learned outside the music—and how those experiences eventually found their way back into the musician, teacher, leader, husband, father, and person I am becoming.

WHEN LIFE INTERRUPTS THE MUSIC; Series 1

When the Music Had to Pause

A personal reflection on interruptions, responsibilities, and learning when to step back without giving up.

There is a particular kind of silence that musicians understand.

It is the silence after the final chord has faded.

The silence before the first note of a performance.

The silence that comes when an instrument is waiting to be played.

But there is another kind of silence that is not found in music itself.

It happens when life interrupts the music.

Sometimes, you do not stop because you have lost your passion. You stop because something else suddenly requires your attention.

A family responsibility arises. A new opportunity changes your direction. Work becomes demanding. You relocate. Your priorities change. You experience disappointment.

Or life simply presents circumstances that were never included in the plan.

I have experienced some of these moments myself.

And one of the lessons I have gradually learned is this:

Not every pause is a departure from purpose. Sometimes, it is part of the journey toward it.

When Your Passion Meets Your Responsibility

For many years, music has been deeply woven into my life.

It has been my profession, my passion, my means of serving people, a platform for teaching and mentoring, and a significant part of how I have expressed myself.

As a musician, it is easy to develop an internal expectation that music should always have a place on the schedule.

There should be time to practise. Time to teach. Time to prepare. Time to rehearse. Time to perform. Time to create.

But life does not always cooperate with our schedules.

I remember one particularly significant moment when my wife went into labour on the very day a choir concert was scheduled.

I was expected to conduct the concert.

The choir had prepared.

People were waiting.

There was a responsibility to the music and to the people involved.

But there was another responsibility that was even more immediate: my family.

For a musician who takes commitments seriously, that kind of situation can create a difficult internal conflict.

Do I fulfil my responsibility to the choir?

Or do I respond to what is happening at the hospital?

It was one of those moments when life reminded me that although music is important, music is not the whole of life.

There are moments when the most important thing you can conduct is not an orchestra or choir.

Sometimes, you have to conduct your priorities.

And that requires wisdom.

When the Schedule Changes, But the Purpose Remains

One of the mistakes we can make is assuming that if we cannot do something in the way we previously did it, then we are no longer pursuing it.

I have learned that this is not always true.

There have been seasons when my relationship with music changed because my circumstances changed.

At one point, after taking a job overseas, my schedule became significantly busier. The time I once had for regular piano practice became limited.

For a musician, reduced practice can feel uncomfortable.

You know what consistent practice does.

You also know what happens when consistency is disrupted.

But instead of abandoning music altogether, I began to look for another way to remain connected to it within the reality of that season.

With the limited time available to me, I started recording piano instrumentals for YouTube—music designed around meditation, mindfulness, devotion, and reflection.

https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLxMN1YMton_qk1kTgbe5mpmGTrzgxGR_M&si=iYosmxOS88EGG3dJ

I also began writing down musical ideas and experiences as blog content.

It was different from what I had previously done. But it was still music. The expression had changed. The method had changed. The environment had changed. The purpose had not disappeared.

That experience taught me something I now consider very important:

When circumstances change, sometimes the question is not, “How do I continue exactly as before?” but, “How can I remain faithful to what matters within this new reality?”

The Danger of Fighting Every Interruption

We often celebrate persistence—and rightly so.

We tell people:

Don’t quit. Keep going. Never give up. Stay committed.

These are valuable principles. But there is another lesson we do not discuss enough:

Sometimes you need to pause without interpreting the pause as failure.

There are seasons when continuing at the same pace is simply not wise.

A parent may need to temporarily reduce professional commitments.

A musician may need to take another job.

A business owner may need to restructure.

A student may need to attend to family circumstances.

A professional may need to relocate.

Someone may need to step away from an opportunity in order to deal with something more important.

That does not automatically mean the dream is dead.

Sometimes, it means life has introduced another movement into the composition.

And just as music contains rests, life contains pauses.

A rest in music is not an empty mistake.

It has a purpose. It creates space. It separates phrases. It establishes anticipation. It gives the next sound meaning.

Perhaps some seasons of our lives function the same way.

I Have Also Learned That Identity Can Be Tested During an Interruption

One of the difficult things about stepping away from something you love is that you may begin to question who you are without it.

For someone whose life has been deeply connected to music, what happens when there is less teaching? Less performing? Less practice? Less production? Less time at the instrument?

It is easy to think:

“Am I still progressing?”

“Am I falling behind?”

“Have I lost my place?”

“Will I still be relevant when I return?”

Those questions are understandable.

But experience has taught me that your current activity does not completely define your identity.

There were seasons when I was doing less of certain things musically, yet I was learning more about leadership, responsibility, people, family, adaptability, and life.

Those lessons eventually became part of the musician I became.

They also influenced how I teach, mentor, lead, communicate, and relate to people.

Sometimes, the experiences we consider unrelated to our calling are actually helping to prepare us for the next expression of it.

What If the Interruption Is Teaching You Something?

Looking back, I can see that some of the interruptions in my journey gave me lessons that uninterrupted progress might not have taught me.

Music teaches discipline. But family teaches responsibility.

Music teaches listening. But life teaches us that listening is not only about sound—it is also about understanding people.

Music teaches timing. But life teaches us that not everything should happen on our preferred timetable.

Music teaches dynamics. But life teaches us that there are seasons when we must be loud and seasons when we must be quiet.

Music teaches us about rests. But life teaches us how to pause.

And perhaps that is why some interruptions should not immediately be viewed as obstacles.

Sometimes, they are classrooms.

The Difference Between Pausing and Quitting

There is an important distinction between these two.

Quitting says:

“I no longer want this.”

Pausing says:

“This cannot receive the same attention from me right now.”

The two may look similar from the outside. But internally, they can be completely different.

You may temporarily stop performing while still being a musician.

You may reduce your practice while still developing as a musician.

You may step away from a particular role while still carrying the experience it gave you.

You may change direction professionally without abandoning the values and skills that shaped you.

The important thing is to be honest about why you are stepping back.

Sometimes the pause is necessary.

Sometimes it is strategic.

Sometimes it is forced by circumstances.

And sometimes, if we are honest with ourselves, we have simply lost the desire.

Understanding the difference matters.

What I Would Tell My Younger Self

If I could speak to the younger version of myself who was trying to make sense of every unexpected turn, I would probably say:

You don’t have to panic every time the plan changes.

You don’t have to interpret every delay as rejection.

You don’t have to assume that every detour has taken you away from your destination.

And you don’t have to measure your entire journey by how much you accomplished in one particular season.

Some seasons are for building. Some are for learning. Some are for serving. Some are for family. Some are for recovery and reflection. Some are for starting again.

And sometimes, several of these things happen at the same time.

The important thing is to remain intentional.

The Lesson for Me

I have come to understand that life is not a perfectly rehearsed musical score.

There are unexpected changes.

There are pauses.

There are repetitions.

There are transitions.

There are moments when you miss an entrance.

There are moments when another instrument becomes more important than yours.

And there are moments when you have to stop playing one part so you can attend to something happening somewhere else.

That does not necessarily mean the composition has failed. It may simply mean the arrangement has changed.

My experiences have taught me to appreciate the seasons when the music is loud—and to respect the seasons when it becomes quiet.

Because sometimes, the quiet season is doing something inside us that the busy season never could.

A Thought to Take With You

Perhaps something in your own life has been interrupted.

Maybe it is your career, education, business, ministry, music, or your plans for your family, or a dream you once believed would have happened by now.

Before you conclude, ask yourself a different question:

“What is this season asking me to learn, become, or prioritise?”

You may discover that the interruption is not the end of your story.

It may simply be a different part of it.

“A pause in the music does not mean the musician has forgotten the song. Sometimes, the pause creates the space needed to hear what should come next.”— Victor Adenola

Coming Next — Series 2: What Life Teaches Us Outside the Music

Sometimes, the lessons that shape us most are not learned behind an instrument, on a stage, or in a rehearsal room. They are learned through family, work, relationships, responsibility, disappointment, and everyday life.

In Series 2, I reflect on the lessons I have learned outside the music—and how those experiences eventually found their way back into the musician, teacher, leader, husband, father, and person I am becoming.

WHEN LIFE INTERRUPTS THE MUSIC; Series 1

When the Music Had to Pause

A personal reflection on interruptions, responsibilities, and learning when to step back without giving up.

There is a particular kind of silence that musicians understand.

It is the silence after the final chord has faded.

The silence before the first note of a performance.

The silence that comes when an instrument is waiting to be played.

But there is another kind of silence that is not found in music itself.

It happens when life interrupts the music.

Sometimes, you do not stop because you have lost your passion. You stop because something else suddenly requires your attention.

A family responsibility arises. A new opportunity changes your direction. Work becomes demanding. You relocate. Your priorities change. You experience disappointment.

Or life simply presents circumstances that were never included in the plan.

I have experienced some of these moments myself.

And one of the lessons I have gradually learned is this:

Not every pause is a departure from purpose. Sometimes, it is part of the journey toward it.

When Your Passion Meets Your Responsibility

For many years, music has been deeply woven into my life.

It has been my profession, my passion, my means of serving people, a platform for teaching and mentoring, and a significant part of how I have expressed myself.

As a musician, it is easy to develop an internal expectation that music should always have a place on the schedule.

There should be time to practise. Time to teach. Time to prepare. Time to rehearse. Time to perform. Time to create.

But life does not always cooperate with our schedules.

I remember one particularly significant moment when my wife went into labour on the very day a choir concert was scheduled.

I was expected to conduct the concert.

The choir had prepared.

People were waiting.

There was a responsibility to the music and to the people involved.

But there was another responsibility that was even more immediate: my family.

For a musician who takes commitments seriously, that kind of situation can create a difficult internal conflict.

Do I fulfil my responsibility to the choir?

Or do I respond to what is happening at the hospital?

It was one of those moments when life reminded me that although music is important, music is not the whole of life.

There are moments when the most important thing you can conduct is not an orchestra or choir.

Sometimes, you have to conduct your priorities.

And that requires wisdom.

When the Schedule Changes, But the Purpose Remains

One of the mistakes we can make is assuming that if we cannot do something in the way we previously did it, then we are no longer pursuing it.

I have learned that this is not always true.

There have been seasons when my relationship with music changed because my circumstances changed.

At one point, after taking a job overseas, my schedule became significantly busier. The time I once had for regular piano practice became limited.

For a musician, reduced practice can feel uncomfortable.

You know what consistent practice does.

You also know what happens when consistency is disrupted.

But instead of abandoning music altogether, I began to look for another way to remain connected to it within the reality of that season.

With the limited time available to me, I started recording piano instrumentals for YouTube—music designed around meditation, mindfulness, devotion, and reflection.

https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLxMN1YMton_qk1kTgbe5mpmGTrzgxGR_M&si=iYosmxOS88EGG3dJ

I also began writing down musical ideas and experiences as blog content.

It was different from what I had previously done. But it was still music. The expression had changed. The method had changed. The environment had changed. The purpose had not disappeared.

That experience taught me something I now consider very important:

When circumstances change, sometimes the question is not, “How do I continue exactly as before?” but, “How can I remain faithful to what matters within this new reality?”

The Danger of Fighting Every Interruption

We often celebrate persistence—and rightly so.

We tell people:

Don’t quit. Keep going. Never give up. Stay committed.

These are valuable principles. But there is another lesson we do not discuss enough:

Sometimes you need to pause without interpreting the pause as failure.

There are seasons when continuing at the same pace is simply not wise.

A parent may need to temporarily reduce professional commitments.

A musician may need to take another job.

A business owner may need to restructure.

A student may need to attend to family circumstances.

A professional may need to relocate.

Someone may need to step away from an opportunity in order to deal with something more important.

That does not automatically mean the dream is dead.

Sometimes, it means life has introduced another movement into the composition.

And just as music contains rests, life contains pauses.

A rest in music is not an empty mistake.

It has a purpose. It creates space. It separates phrases. It establishes anticipation. It gives the next sound meaning.

Perhaps some seasons of our lives function the same way.

I Have Also Learned That Identity Can Be Tested During an Interruption

One of the difficult things about stepping away from something you love is that you may begin to question who you are without it.

For someone whose life has been deeply connected to music, what happens when there is less teaching? Less performing? Less practice? Less production? Less time at the instrument?

It is easy to think:

“Am I still progressing?”

“Am I falling behind?”

“Have I lost my place?”

“Will I still be relevant when I return?”

Those questions are understandable.

But experience has taught me that your current activity does not completely define your identity.

There were seasons when I was doing less of certain things musically, yet I was learning more about leadership, responsibility, people, family, adaptability, and life.

Those lessons eventually became part of the musician I became.

They also influenced how I teach, mentor, lead, communicate, and relate to people.

Sometimes, the experiences we consider unrelated to our calling are actually helping to prepare us for the next expression of it.

What If the Interruption Is Teaching You Something?

Looking back, I can see that some of the interruptions in my journey gave me lessons that uninterrupted progress might not have taught me.

Music teaches discipline. But family teaches responsibility.

Music teaches listening. But life teaches us that listening is not only about sound—it is also about understanding people.

Music teaches timing. But life teaches us that not everything should happen on our preferred timetable.

Music teaches dynamics. But life teaches us that there are seasons when we must be loud and seasons when we must be quiet.

Music teaches us about rests. But life teaches us how to pause.

And perhaps that is why some interruptions should not immediately be viewed as obstacles.

Sometimes, they are classrooms.

The Difference Between Pausing and Quitting

There is an important distinction between these two.

Quitting says:

“I no longer want this.”

Pausing says:

“This cannot receive the same attention from me right now.”

The two may look similar from the outside. But internally, they can be completely different.

You may temporarily stop performing while still being a musician.

You may reduce your practice while still developing as a musician.

You may step away from a particular role while still carrying the experience it gave you.

You may change direction professionally without abandoning the values and skills that shaped you.

The important thing is to be honest about why you are stepping back.

Sometimes the pause is necessary.

Sometimes it is strategic.

Sometimes it is forced by circumstances.

And sometimes, if we are honest with ourselves, we have simply lost the desire.

Understanding the difference matters.

What I Would Tell My Younger Self

If I could speak to the younger version of myself who was trying to make sense of every unexpected turn, I would probably say:

You don’t have to panic every time the plan changes.

You don’t have to interpret every delay as rejection.

You don’t have to assume that every detour has taken you away from your destination.

And you don’t have to measure your entire journey by how much you accomplished in one particular season.

Some seasons are for building. Some are for learning. Some are for serving. Some are for family. Some are for recovery and reflection. Some are for starting again.

And sometimes, several of these things happen at the same time.

The important thing is to remain intentional.

The Lesson for Me

I have come to understand that life is not a perfectly rehearsed musical score.

There are unexpected changes.

There are pauses.

There are repetitions.

There are transitions.

There are moments when you miss an entrance.

There are moments when another instrument becomes more important than yours.

And there are moments when you have to stop playing one part so you can attend to something happening somewhere else.

That does not necessarily mean the composition has failed. It may simply mean the arrangement has changed.

My experiences have taught me to appreciate the seasons when the music is loud—and to respect the seasons when it becomes quiet.

Because sometimes, the quiet season is doing something inside us that the busy season never could.

A Thought to Take With You

Perhaps something in your own life has been interrupted.

Maybe it is your career, education, business, ministry, music, or your plans for your family, or a dream you once believed would have happened by now.

Before you conclude, ask yourself a different question:

“What is this season asking me to learn, become, or prioritise?”

You may discover that the interruption is not the end of your story.

It may simply be a different part of it.

“A pause in the music does not mean the musician has forgotten the song. Sometimes, the pause creates the space needed to hear what should come next.”— Victor Adenola

Coming Next — Series 2: What Life Teaches Us Outside the Music

Sometimes, the lessons that shape us most are not learned behind an instrument, on a stage, or in a rehearsal room. They are learned through family, work, relationships, responsibility, disappointment, and everyday life.

In Series 2, I reflect on the lessons I have learned outside the music—and how those experiences eventually found their way back into the musician, teacher, leader, husband, father, and person I am becoming.