He was only 28.
By the time he passed, I had almost a decade of music school under my belt. I had the knowledge, technology, and connections to make something happen creatively…but I didn’t. My own studio sat there most days like a dog sitting at the door waiting for its owner.
I was afraid.
And then it all clicked the month he got sick. Here he was, a creative person who was going to leave behind a mountain of unfinished projects. I couldn’t reconcile the image. So I made a choice. The last thing I said to him while he was on his deathbed was “I realize that we’re creative people…and if we’re not creating, then we’re wasting our lives. I’m going to spend the rest of my life creating.”
And now I do.
I quit my job and I replaced it with composing. I quit drinking and I replaced it with composing. I stayed home from parties and I composed. Now I live my life not for myself, or for him, but for all art, for all artists and creative spirits. And I’m fueled by the way-too-vivid insight that if we don’t create what’s boiling inside of us, it won’t get created. Ever. And then it will die along with you. I’m not going to let that happen.
Join me in living an artist’s life.