Photo taken in Sevilla, Spain
Something New
There’s no denying that first-time thrills have a way of making us feel alive. It’s hard to beat the exhilarating sensations that come with new experiences.
These memorable moments often appear in many forms. Maybe it’s learning to ride a bike, watching a movie on the big screen, or discovering a sport that later becomes a lifelong passion.
Yet, as with most things that grow familiar, creative excitement can fade over time. But is that inevitable—or can we choose a different path?
Growing up, music was a big part of my family life—always playing in the background. Enchanting sounds from instruments surrounded me and filled our home.
Even now, I can still remember the tones that echoed throughout my childhood: saxophone, violin, guitar, piano—even my mother singing softly in the kitchen. So when I found my own instrument, I couldn’t have predicted the joy it would bring.
Soon, I was preparing to sing in front of others for the very first time. There I stood, a scrawny nine-year-old gripping a microphone before what felt like a massive sea of adults.
In truth, there were probably no more than thirty people. Still, it’s a strange thing for any child to hold that much attention.
As the opening chords filled the air, I felt the weight of all those eyes. My hands grew sweaty, the microphone slipping slightly in my grasp.
Then came the scary leap all acts of courage require—I went for it; I opened my mouth and began to sing. What happened next is a bit of a blur.
It felt like a wave of emotion washed over me—cheers, clapping, and kind words. For a kid, it was a lot to absorb, and just like that, it was over.
I tried to process what had just happened. But somewhere in that moment, I caught a glimpse of a rare kind of joy—one I wouldn’t feel again for a long time.
Later, I began to wonder: does that creative spark fade forever? What happens to the joy we once felt for the things we love?
Gift or Curse?
Sadly, it didn’t take long for something I once adored to become a routine. And with routines, expectations follow. Over time, I built an identity around something that had started out as pure fun.
It’s strange how we twist our passions into burdens when ego takes over. Eventually, I lost the joy of singing—it became something that triggered anxiety instead.
Ironically, the more praise I received, the more pressure I felt to earn it again. The more I focused on being “good,” the harder it became to simply enjoy the process.
I developed a scarcity mindset rooted in performance and perfection. What I didn’t realize at the time was how much of this struggle came from within.
It would take years before I understood the importance of having the right mindset.
Mindset Plus Effort
Today, many experts describe mindset as a collection of beliefs and attitudes that shape how we see ourselves and the world. Research shows our mindset deeply influences what we think, feel, and do.
That includes how we view our abilities. The two most commonly discussed are the fixed mindset and the growth mindset.
People with a fixed mindset view challenges as threats and believe talent never changes. In contrast, those with a growth mindset understand that effort and shifting circumstances shape both success and failure.
In Mindset, Carol Dweck writes:
“In the fixed mindset, everything is about the outcome. If you fail—or if you’re not the best—it’s all been wasted. The growth mindset allows people to value what they’re doing regardless of the outcome. They’re tackling problems, charting new courses, and working on important issues. Maybe they haven’t found the cure to cancer, but the search was deeply meaningful.”
A fixed mindset leads to fear of failure, avoidance of challenges, and obsession with talent. A growth mindset embraces effort, persistence, and learning from mistakes.
This applies to every part of life—from school to work to relationships. Even in the arts, people often attribute talent to being “a natural.” But is that the full picture?
Although natural predispositions influence us, discipline, consistency, and practice shape true talent. Only with time and care does skill evolve into talent.
Cultivating Grit
It’s easy to fall into a fixed mindset—and pass it on to others—without realizing it. In the workplace, imposter syndrome can show up when we compare ourselves to others or let our insecurities run wild.
But doubt is normal in any process of growth. What matters is how we respond.
We rise above when we express those fears and take proactive steps toward our goals. This keeps us from spiraling into shame or paralysis.
In Grit, Angela Duckworth highlights the value of perseverance. She writes:
“There are no shortcuts to excellence. Developing real expertise, figuring out really hard problems, it all takes time—longer than most people imagine… you’ve got to apply those skills and produce goods or services that are valuable to people. Grit is about working on something you love but not just falling in love—staying in love.”
Daily practice grounded in patience and commitment builds the foundation for a growth mindset. It’s in this dedication that creative flow begins to emerge.
The Growth Mindset
We’ve all met people who believe their circumstances trap them—that they can’t change. But in truth, nothing stays the same forever.
Every moment offers a new chance to choose how we show up. The mindset we adopt shapes everything we do.
With a growth mindset, we learn to value process over praise, effort over outcomes. We stop chasing external validation and begin to honor the work for its own sake.
And that is where creativity flourishes—with curiosity, presence, and joy.
Stream of the Tempo
When I look back at my nine-year-old self and that special time when singing became such a big part of my identity, I can’t help but smile at the clear signs of my naivety. It’s obvious now that I had fallen straight into the traps of a fixed mindset.
But thankfully, certain musical memories from that time remained untouched by my ego-driven perspective. I can now see how applause, praise, and external approval can so easily feed the downfall of one’s passion.
Perfectionism, however, has no place in the creative process. In creating, we grow naturally—through all the uncontrolled ways of simply being.
Just the act of becoming one with what we’re doing helps us step effortlessly into a growth mindset. I understand this now as I think back on meaningful moments in later years that helped me rediscover the joy of singing.
Sometimes, I caught a glimpse of it while listening to the melody; a glimmer so fleeting that perhaps evaporated in my attempts to chase it. On certain occasions, however, I noticed it hovering softly through the stream of the tempo in my willingness to be still with it.
Because there, in the middle of a chorus or refrain, I would find it by gazing back at the audience and know without a shimmer of a doubt that nothing about a singer or a crowd has anything to do with one’s achievement or social identity. Nothing about any of it was fixed, for all we had was this one temporary moment to share within this tiny window of space and time.
There, in one’s true presence with a song, no thought or mindset could even exist along the fractional beats of the music; a pause in between the chaotic rhythms of life in which one is capable of reaching the truest form of ecstasy and the grateful feeling of being so joyfully and incandescently alive.
