"The critic hates most that which he would have done himself if he had had the guts."
Isn’t it true? What we lack in courage, we make up for in judgement.
Refuse to be a critic. As I grow more confident as a creator, I find more strength in my connection to other artists. As I become more comfortable in my own skin, I see beauty in other’s. We all have something to offer.
I call myself a creator because I can’t quite call myself a musician, nor a writer. I am not just one, I am both. I also create other things, but the most important creation to me is my voice. Not the sounds that come from the vibration of my vocal folds, but the voice as a collaboration of my written thoughts paired with music, used as a tool to reach. My voice and a collective voice.
It’s not totally understood why I place so much emphasis on this voice. Maybe because my entire life I have found it easier to put my pen to paper instead of opening my mouth. It’s been difficult to wear my heart on my sleeve and connect with other’s. Always a communication barrier; a wall of brick and mortar. Although with age, it seems to get easier but it’s still an uphill battle. So for me, it’s pertinent to overcome these obstacles for others and hope that I can overcome them myself.
There is no doubt that I focus my energy on my music and writing even when most probably think that I should be devoting my time to building my business in the salon. But hair is just that: a minuscule form of art that only incorporates a fraction of creativity that my mind and heart can give. It’s my trade. Music is, and always will be, my heart. Writing is my work. Performing is my passion. Connecting to people is my driving force. My work is fueled by the chance to overcome all language barriers to unite souls like puzzle pieces.
So I am called to share this. I am called to reach out and spread my compassion to other’s. If I can inspire one person to be a better human, to love themselves, respect their peers, love and cherish animals and their relationships and dive deep into their passions no matter what, my work has been rewarded. But the job is never finished - I will work until my hands collapse and my voice box bleeds.
Momentum. Such a great word. Something we must keep. But it must be a controlled motion; a slow, steady burn of a candle, not a holiday sparkler. Those sparklers only come once a year and will dazzle your eyes for a mere 45 seconds until we move onto the next. But that candle? We leave it out year round, adopt it as a daily routine and a regular fixture in our homes. That’s what I want to be. I hope for longevity, not to be remembered as a quick fling. I want to reside in the subconscious of my receivers.
Good work takes time. Hard work is a lifestyle. Only support from here on out.
Refuse to be a critic. As I grow more confident as a creator, I find more strength in my connection to other artists. As I become more comfortable in my own skin, I see beauty in other’s. We all have something to offer.
I call myself a creator because I can’t quite call myself a musician, nor a writer. I am not just one, I am both. I also create other things, but the most important creation to me is my voice. Not the sounds that come from the vibration of my vocal folds, but the voice as a collaboration of my written thoughts paired with music, used as a tool to reach. My voice and a collective voice.
It’s not totally understood why I place so much emphasis on this voice. Maybe because my entire life I have found it easier to put my pen to paper instead of opening my mouth. It’s been difficult to wear my heart on my sleeve and connect with other’s. Always a communication barrier; a wall of brick and mortar. Although with age, it seems to get easier but it’s still an uphill battle. So for me, it’s pertinent to overcome these obstacles for others and hope that I can overcome them myself.
There is no doubt that I focus my energy on my music and writing even when most probably think that I should be devoting my time to building my business in the salon. But hair is just that: a minuscule form of art that only incorporates a fraction of creativity that my mind and heart can give. It’s my trade. Music is, and always will be, my heart. Writing is my work. Performing is my passion. Connecting to people is my driving force. My work is fueled by the chance to overcome all language barriers to unite souls like puzzle pieces.
So I am called to share this. I am called to reach out and spread my compassion to other’s. If I can inspire one person to be a better human, to love themselves, respect their peers, love and cherish animals and their relationships and dive deep into their passions no matter what, my work has been rewarded. But the job is never finished - I will work until my hands collapse and my voice box bleeds.
Momentum. Such a great word. Something we must keep. But it must be a controlled motion; a slow, steady burn of a candle, not a holiday sparkler. Those sparklers only come once a year and will dazzle your eyes for a mere 45 seconds until we move onto the next. But that candle? We leave it out year round, adopt it as a daily routine and a regular fixture in our homes. That’s what I want to be. I hope for longevity, not to be remembered as a quick fling. I want to reside in the subconscious of my receivers.
Good work takes time. Hard work is a lifestyle. Only support from here on out.