I hear you

Whenever we're setting out to do something that matters, we hear two voices inside our heads:

"I would like to learn to transpose hymns on the organ."
"You're too old for that."

"I think I need to repeat the left hand and pedal combination 10 more times."
"It sounds good enough as it is."

"I feel the inner need to compose a hymn prelude for the organ."
"You're not creative. You don't know where to start."

"I want to improvise during the communion next Sunday."
"You're not an expert. People will laugh at you."

"I'm going to learn as much as I can about the keys, chords, harmony, modulations, and counterpoint."
"It's too boring. You won't last more than 3 days."

"I'm going to memorize this fugue by Bach."
"It's not for you. You are blind."

"I would like to provide an alternate harmonization to the last verse of this hymn next Sunday."
"Your church is treating you unfairly. Why bother?"

"I'll try to perfect my pedal technique."
"Forget it. You're sitting in a wheel-chair."

Often we give in to the second voice. But sometimes we respond by saying: "I hear you but I'm going to do it anyway." That's when art happens.

What would it take to do it more often?