This Year, I’m Not Writing a Symphony Before Breakfast
New Year’s Resolutions Are Bad Policy
…and why I live by quarterly themes instead
There’s a particular kind of January optimism that smells like cinnamon, brand-new calendars, and overly ambitious to-do lists. Each year, we sit down and declare war on our bad habits. This year, we say, I’ll wake up at 5am. I’ll run. I’ll meditate. I’ll write a symphony. Sometimes all before breakfast.
It’s well-intentioned. But I think New Year’s resolutions are a deeply flawed tool.
Why? Because a year is too long.
Twelve months is an ocean. You don’t know what’s on the other shore. Life changes, work changes, you change. You’re legislating for a future you haven’t met yet.
That’s why, a few years ago, I quietly abandoned resolutions and started working with quarterly themes instead.
The idea is simple:
Every three months, I ask: What does my life need right now?
And I build a theme around the answer. Something memorable, short, and clear—not a list of tasks, but a lens. A way to shape my choices, attention, and focus for a season.
Past themes have included:
- Build the body (when I’d been too long at my desk)
- Out into the world (after a period of isolation)
- Deepen the craft (when I needed to recharge creatively)
- Establish rhythm (at a moment of transition)
- Clear the table (when life felt too noisy and I craved simplicity)
Some themes are bold. Some are quiet. But they all shape how I schedule projects, pick habits, and adjust expectations. They become a filter for decisions. And they leave room for life to happen.
They’re not goals. They’re tonal centers. Like choosing E minor for a movement—there’s still room for modulation, but the theme holds the shape.
Themes beat resolutions because they evolve.
Sometimes a theme lasts two months, sometimes four. Sometimes it shifts halfway through as life demands something else. And that’s the point: a theme grows with you. It accommodates nuance, setbacks, and surprise projects. It doesn’t punish you for changing—it expects you to.
Productivity through phrasing
Quarterly themes have reshaped how I plan my time. Instead of marching through the year with a metronome of discipline, I work in phrases. There are crescendos and pauses. Times to sprint, and times to reset the breath. That phrasing matters—not just in music, but in life.
In fact, some of my most productive stretches have come when I stopped obsessing over productivity and started asking what kind of season I was in.
Why themes work for musicians (and freelancers)
As an orchestrator, I don’t get to control the tempo of a film schedule. But I can control how I align my life around it.
If I’m heading into months of deadlines and revisions, the theme won’t be Push harder—it might be Sleep is sacred or Keep the margins wide. Not because I’m lazy, but because I know what the work will demand. The theme supports the pressure; it doesn’t double it.
If I’m between projects, I might shift to Refill the well—and let reading, study, and long walks take the lead.
No guilt. Just guidance.
Unlike resolutions, a theme doesn’t shout at you when you fall short. It whispers reminders. Does this support the theme? What would the theme choose right now? And over time, those whispers build a throughline. Something deeper than goals. Something closer to a way of being.
Instead of vague resolutions, try this:
Name the next 12 weeks: What do you need right now
Choose 1–3 habits that serve that theme.
Pick 1–2 projects that bring it to life.
Schedule accordingly.
Think of it as writing in phrases.
There are crescendos and breaths.
Fast tempi and sostenuto moments.
You don’t need to play everything fortissimo all year.
And you don’t need to reinvent yourself every January.
Just tune into the season, and write the next phrase.
Theme Ideas by Focus Area
— for when you know what matters, but need a better headline
When choosing a quarterly theme, I find it helpful to start with a direction. Whether it’s about building stamina, deepening your work, connecting with others, creating stillness, or simply enjoying the ride.
Here are some of my favorite theme prompts:
Energy, health, stability, structure
Build the Machine – prioritize strength, sleep, and physical resilience
Fuel and Flow – dial in nutrition, hydration, and rhythm
Move Daily – keep it simple: move the body, every single day
Work, study, depth, excellence
Deepen the Craft – return to fundamentals: orchestration, harmony, technique
Master the Tools – level up your software, shortcuts, workflow
Work Like a Pro – treat every session like a job, even personal ones
People, connection, contribution, belonging
Show Up – attend, engage, say yes to things you normally skip
Reach Out – write the emails, follow up, ask for the meeting
Make It Mutual – give freely: feedback, help, introductions
Stillness, attention, self-awareness, clarity
Slow Down, Look Up – fewer notifications, more sunlight
Refill the Well – read, watch, listen—with no pressure to produce
Know Thyself – journal, reflect, track your thinking
Rewards, pleasure, joyful consumption, beauty
Dine Like You Mean It – cook with intention, try new places, turn meals into moments
Cinema is Sacred – movie nights at home or in the theatre, solo or shared—ritualize it
Make Weekends Count – treat Saturdays and Sundays like highlights, not leftovers
The best themes are aspirational, deeply grounded, and flexible enough to adapt when life shifts. If one of these resonates, steal it. If it needs a tweak—rename it, reshape it, make it yours.
Because this isn’t about what sounds good in January.
It’s about what carries you through a season with clarity.