Yoooo! Peace family…

If you’re new here, peace and welcome. A little over a week ago, I hit pause. I stepped completely away from the studio, the instruments, and the music production process for a 25-day Creative Arts Fast.

The goal? Stop using constant creation as an escape hatch, and instead treat this season as pre-production for my life. In my last check-in on Day 5, I talked about learning to love the “dirty work” of preparing the soil—focusing on health, faith, and relationships so my life is stable enough to sustain the art.

Now, we are at Day 10. And the fast is doing exactly what a fast is designed to do: stripping away the noise and showing me the plumbing of my own mind.

The Trap of “High-Contrast Living”

A few days ago, I poured 100% of my intentional, creative energy into a single evening. It was a flawless experience. But the next morning, the high was gone. The day felt blank, unsure, and completely bankrupt.

I realized I have treated my music career the exact same way.

We put months of rehearsing, meeting, and budgeting into a single release date or a two-hour set. We prepare for the peak moment, but we don’t prepare for the aftermath. We throw ideas at a wall without asking: What wall? Who built it? And if the idea falls off, who is cleaning up the mess?

True design isn’t about cashing out on single moments. It’s about building a sustainable timeline for the creation to actually live in.

Turning Off the “Validation Light”

Lately, a true civil war has been happening within my creativity. Part of me is ecstatic to release this upcoming album for the sake of purpose and genuine resonance. Another part is completely exhausted by the chase for ego validation.

I looked back at how I used to roll out projects—literally blasting text messages to old acquaintances on my birthday saying, “Hey, check out my new album when you get a chance.”

It felt needy. It wasn’t looking for real connection; it was a blind cry for approval, hoping for a text reply to prove what I made had value. Usually, I’d just get a “like” on the message, followed by silence.

The validation light turns on brightest when we share our work with the people who knew us by our first names long before we ever had a vision. We desperately want them to see who we are becoming, but we worry they only see the unstable versions of who we used to be.

An audience cannot validate you; they can only resonate with you. When you are anchored in your own certainty, your resonance light stays on automatic.

4. The Soundtrack of Escapism

On Day 5, I mentioned using a tool called “The Reservoir” to jot down quick thoughts without diving into full production. But by Day 10, the fast forced me to look deeper at what I’m using to fill the creative void.

Years ago, losing my phone forced me onto an ancient iPhone with zero storage. No social apps. It brought radical digital boundaries and a profound sense of peace. But during this fast, I’ve noticed the desire to escape has just migrated to other screens—like running an 8-hour loop of YouTube at work, or turning on Netflix the second I get home.

There is a difference between consumption for inspiration and consumption for escapism. Whatever absorbs you in a time of peace is exactly what flows from you under pressure. If we absorb empty noise during our downtime, that is exactly what pours out when our lives get tested.

Re-Learning the Jam Session

Which brings me to the heaviest realization of this fast so far: I think I’ve forgotten how to just have fun.

When creativity is paused, and escapism is unmasked as a crutch, you are left staring at a blank canvas. Outside of high-pressure production, what does low-pressure joy look like?

I realized I miss the raw nature of a zero-pressure jam session. Just kicking it, laughing, and vibing with other creators without a deadline, a camera rolling, or a strategy attached to the room.

Investing time and resources into pure, unpressured joy isn’t a waste of productivity—it’s the ultimate form of soil maintenance. Right now, I’m learning to be okay with the quiet, unrecorded moments.

No pressure. Just building the wall, one brick at a time.

Let’s talk in the comments: When you strip away your main “productive” outlet, what fills the void? Do you know how to participate in low-pressure leisure, or has your downtime turned into pure consumption?

-Gold