I found this post at a time when I am grappling with similar feelings. I’m not 40 yet, but I’ve been preparing for it for a few years now—slowly letting go, giving up on my dreams, as if hitting 40 meant the end of everything. I love that line about our past selves limiting us. That’s exactly it—we need to let go of our past selves so we can open a new chapter, do things differently, and stop feeling like we haven’t really tried. Good luck with everything. Enjoy the mountain view!
One of the great challenges for many of us in the arts is facing the brutal truth that most of us live in the long tail. The “prudent” thing to do—or what you start to feel you should do as you get older—is to pack it in and pivot. But from my perspective, that’s a threefold mistake.
First, cutting yourself off from what moves you most drains life of meaning. Sure, meaning can come from many sources—but if you have that creative pull, shutting it down is like turning away from a vital inner current. When I’ve strayed too far from it, I’ve felt a kind of spiritual jeopardy.
Second, I believe that as you get older, you’re only just reaching the starting line. Yes, youth brings energy—and often a hunger to prove something—but with age, you start feeding from a different source entirely. It has a richer character. And you finally carry some accumulated wisdom—or at least the kind of knowing that only time can teach. Those are tools that give your work a whole new depth.
Third, by choosing to go on—perhaps stubbornly—you leave the door open for magic. That’s how I found renewal in my path. It’s brought a lot with it, including its own shadows. I’m writing this during a small (but not dramatic) dip. Living in the long tail means learning to live with things never going quite as “well” as you’d like. But it also offers something deeper: the reward of living in close contact with yourself—and by extension, with the pulse of life itself. Its arteries. Its source. The human heart.
That’s a strong safeguard against cynicism. And an invitation to make something that outlasts you—a legacy of work.
I hope you find a way to keep going. And yes: expel the belief that how it has been means it must continue that way. Things grow. Shift. Morph. Transform. Resolve. These are realities the cynics have cut themselves off from. But they’re real.
Keep in there—and thank you again for your kind words!
i always love hearing about your process – i'm notoriously late to watching your videos on youtube, but i always find them so inspiring. i'm just always behind on my watchlist :D wishing you all the best on your journey – as much as you want to *play* live again, i would love to *see* you on stage again, as you know already anyway!
Hey Jana - thank you as always! I'm getting so fired up for live in my heart. Working every day on a new set - something entirely new. This message is my fuel! x
I found this post at a time when I am grappling with similar feelings. I’m not 40 yet, but I’ve been preparing for it for a few years now—slowly letting go, giving up on my dreams, as if hitting 40 meant the end of everything. I love that line about our past selves limiting us. That’s exactly it—we need to let go of our past selves so we can open a new chapter, do things differently, and stop feeling like we haven’t really tried. Good luck with everything. Enjoy the mountain view!
Dear Joanna,
Thank you for this wonderful reply.
One of the great challenges for many of us in the arts is facing the brutal truth that most of us live in the long tail. The “prudent” thing to do—or what you start to feel you should do as you get older—is to pack it in and pivot. But from my perspective, that’s a threefold mistake.
First, cutting yourself off from what moves you most drains life of meaning. Sure, meaning can come from many sources—but if you have that creative pull, shutting it down is like turning away from a vital inner current. When I’ve strayed too far from it, I’ve felt a kind of spiritual jeopardy.
Second, I believe that as you get older, you’re only just reaching the starting line. Yes, youth brings energy—and often a hunger to prove something—but with age, you start feeding from a different source entirely. It has a richer character. And you finally carry some accumulated wisdom—or at least the kind of knowing that only time can teach. Those are tools that give your work a whole new depth.
Third, by choosing to go on—perhaps stubbornly—you leave the door open for magic. That’s how I found renewal in my path. It’s brought a lot with it, including its own shadows. I’m writing this during a small (but not dramatic) dip. Living in the long tail means learning to live with things never going quite as “well” as you’d like. But it also offers something deeper: the reward of living in close contact with yourself—and by extension, with the pulse of life itself. Its arteries. Its source. The human heart.
That’s a strong safeguard against cynicism. And an invitation to make something that outlasts you—a legacy of work.
I hope you find a way to keep going. And yes: expel the belief that how it has been means it must continue that way. Things grow. Shift. Morph. Transform. Resolve. These are realities the cynics have cut themselves off from. But they’re real.
Keep in there—and thank you again for your kind words!
Jim
i always love hearing about your process – i'm notoriously late to watching your videos on youtube, but i always find them so inspiring. i'm just always behind on my watchlist :D wishing you all the best on your journey – as much as you want to *play* live again, i would love to *see* you on stage again, as you know already anyway!
Hey Jana - thank you as always! I'm getting so fired up for live in my heart. Working every day on a new set - something entirely new. This message is my fuel! x
patiently waiting until whenever that will be – you know mirko and i will be there! x
Wonderful to hear about your process, Jim!
Thank you always for the feedback Meri - even when short I want you to know that it uplifts me always!