You used to paint/draw/sing/dance/act/write/play an instrument etc. when you were a kid and you loved it.
Whatever your thing was, when adults asked what wanted to be when you grew up, you’d tell them about it. When you did it, you were lost in your own little world, with no sense of time. You felt at peace. You were gratified. The more you did it, the better you got. It began to look like you could maybe get serious about this thing, maybe study it in college, or become a professional.
But maybe you got bogged down by teachers/coaches/professors whose harsh critiques crushed your spirit.
Maybe the pressure you were under terrified you, so instead of failing, you quit altogether.
Maybe you gave it up when you became an adult in pursuit of “marketable skills.”
And now you wonder.
What would have happened if you’d kept making art/music etc.?
How good would you be at it now?
Could you be making a living at it?
If you did, would you be happy?
Pervasive emptiness, regret, a sense of feeling unfulfilled
Musical therapeutic intervention: Listen to the following song once a day