Reigniting the Flame: Practise, Purpose, and the Art of Getting Better (Even at 73)
Last night I was inspired. Truly, deeply inspired.
We were at Bird’s Basement in the Melbourne CBD for a gig that blew me away. The young guitarist Paul Mason was paying tribute to the great Jeff Beck, a musician who has shaped the melodic, lyrical, soul-driven side of guitar playing that I’ve always loved. Mason’s playing was full of feel—emotive, expressive, and technically superb. He wasn’t just mimicking Beck, he was honouring him. Backed by an extraordinary band, including another fine Australian guitarist, Brett Garson, Mason delivered a version of “Where Were You?” that was, quite frankly, sublime.
And just like that, the spark was lit again.
It reminded me how much I love the guitar. How deeply I connect with music. And it posed a quiet challenge to me: Will I let this inspiration fade? Or will I act on it while the fire’s still burning?
The Old Pattern
This experience stirred up a familiar realisation, one I’ve visited before but never quite resolved. It goes like this:
“Just enough to make it work is enough.”
In other words, I’ve often done just enough learning—just enough practise—to get by, to make something work. Whether it’s music, writing, or technology, I tend to scratch the surface, get something going, and then… move on.
It’s not that I’m lazy (although I’ve accused myself of that). It’s not that I lack talent (I’ve had glimpses of what’s possible). But I’ve rarely gone deep. I don’t drill. I don’t persist. I learn what I need to get by, and then the hunger wanes.
I’m a jack-of-all-trades. Curious, enthusiastic, and yes—often good enough to make a decent impression. But the mastery? The deep, nuanced understanding? That’s what I’ve too often skipped.
But Why?
Maybe it’s because I never pursued mentors—those more skilled and more focused than I was—who could guide me and push me. Maybe it’s because going back to “student mode” feels uncomfortable once you’ve managed to wing it for years. Maybe it’s habit, ego, or simply the absence of a clear goal.
But here’s what I’m seeing now: greatness doesn’t arrive by accident.
It’s built.
And that building takes practise, patience, guidance, and structure. Inherent ability is a gift—but like all gifts, it needs to be unwrapped and refined. Otherwise, it’s just potential. Wasted.
The Turning Point
At 73, you might think it’s too late to improve. Too late to reinvent. But I don’t believe that for a second. In fact, I’m more convinced than ever that the desire to grow—especially as we age—is one of the great secrets of longevity and vitality.
To be alive is to create.
To strive, explore, learn, build.
To respect the incredible gift of having a body, a brain, a consciousness. To honour the miracle of simply being here.
And if you’re lucky enough to still feel a sense of adventure at this age—well, that’s your cue. That’s the whisper from the universe telling you there’s still music left to play, words to write, songs to sing, things to master.
A Plan, However Simple
So here’s what I’m going to try:
Make a list of the things I love and have the potential to be better at.
Choose a few, and decide how I want to grow in those areas.
Dedicate time daily—even 15–30 minutes—to learn, practise, and improve.
Seek guidance—through online courses, books, mentors, or anyone wiser who’s walked this path.
Track the progress and stay accountable, even just by journalling or reporting back here.
The tools are all here now. The internet has opened the vaults. Information and wisdom that were once gatekept are now available at our fingertips. The only thing stopping us is… us.
And I, for one, don’t want to die “just good enough to get by.” Not when I could be great. Not when I could be better.
So here I go again.
Inspired.
