All of my life I’ve been a musician. It started with cello in 6th grade and eventually expanded to bass, guitar, drums, and vocals. I’ve been hired by others to play in weddings and even play as a guest with other orchestras. On paper I’m a professional musician, but I still don’t feel like one.

Much, if not all of my story has taken place at the intersection of creativity and technology. Music is a great example of that.

However, technology has always come very naturally to me, music not as much. Because of this, I don’t think I’ve really felt confident or adequate enough in my music – what I’ve played or written.

This has led me to keep a lot of my musical talents and aspirations collecting dust on my metaphorical creative shelf.

I’ve also had numerous seasons where I’ve wanted to give it another try, only to find myself discouraged and retreating again.

The best posture I can describe around my relationship with music is hiding. Hiding from what? I’m not fully sure. What I know is I love music and still feel drawn to both play and write it. I’ve also never felt this creatively blocked before. I’ve faced many creative blocks in the past, but nothing quite this deep-seated.

In this season of exploring new creative containers like the studio shed or its digital counterpart, I’m sensing the opportunity and desire to create a new container for my music journey.

I write this here not as a bold declaration saying ‘I’m starting again and this time will be it!’ but rather humbly making the simplest, smallest container I can to start uncovering the depth of creativity which lies beneath my music practice.