For a long time, I believed that growth meant constant adjustment. Watching others. Learning from trends. Measuring progress through reaction. It felt necessary.
Over time, I began to sense that something was being lost in this process. Each comparison created small shifts away from what felt natural. Each attempt to adapt weakened my inner rhythm. Jung wrote about individuation as the slow alignment with one’s inner center. I recognize that now as learning to stay with my own frequency.
As an artist, this becomes especially clear. Music carries its own truth. When I follow it closely, it unfolds with ease. When I force it into shapes that do not belong to it, the sound becomes distant. Not wrong. Just less alive.
There are moments when doubt appears quietly. It questions pace, direction, visibility. It asks whether something should be louder, faster, more strategic. I am learning to let those questions pass without immediate answers.
Stoic thinkers spoke of focusing on what lies within our reach: effort, discipline, attention. Everything else moves on its own schedule. Staying with my frequency means trusting that steady work shapes deeper roots than quick recognition.
Music has taught me patience. A track grows through listening. Through revision. Through silence. Through returning again and again to what feels true. The same applies inwardly.
I no longer seek to synchronize myself with external noise. I seek coherence.
Between thought and feeling.
Between intention and action.
Between sound and meaning.
Staying with my frequency is not resistance to change. It is loyalty to authenticity. It is allowing growth to happen without losing orientation.
And perhaps that is where creative freedom begins —
not in becoming louder,
but in becoming clearer.
The Melodic Mind 