You Will Lose Your Way

How to find the path back to the work — and to yourself

When you set out on a creative project, you will lose your way.

Now this is especially true of ambitious projects, because the greater your vision the more time it’s going to take.

And the more time it takes, the more perils spring out of the darkness to threaten what you once felt so clearly.

That’s what today’s newsletter is about — not just why that happens, but what you can do when you’ve drifted so far that you fear you’ll never find your way back.

I’m going through this myself, so these reflections are my way of sharing both pain points and breakthroughs.

When you set out, you have all the energy of the world contained within you — the thrust of desire, dream, and that sense of certainty in your chest.

This power gives you a primal momentum. It’s why the hurdles at the start don’t feel like hindrances. On the contrary, they animate you — because they’re no match for the gusto with which we throw ourselves into new adventures.

An example in my case is with my current album — the as-of-yet unreleased Chromatic Zero.

After I got into the groove last year, I had the bit between my teeth — and the knowledge that something deeper was expressing itself through me cascaded my energy forward, eventually helping me get the album recorded.

But getting a project into the world is a different journey from creating it.

And more than that, the question of whether you’ll finish has nothing to do with whether you can get it started.

That part’s easy.

Your talent and excitement will always get you going — but the question of whether you’ll damn well see it through only arrives when the obstacle zeroes its beady eyes on you.

That’s the moment we all-too-often drift.

But the real problem isn’t the drifting — it’s whether we can find a way to course correct once we do. Whether you’ve got the courage to sling your pickaxe into the ice when you’re disoriented, tumbling, and in free fall.

This is not the time to shrink from the dark. This is the time you show the dark who you are.

As for me — I’ve drifted.

On the surface, it looks like I’m doing everything right.

The songs are coming out.
I’m sharing the project.
There’s some nice feedback coming in each month.

But underneath, something is needling me.

And the only real question is: do I have the courage to listen to it?

Yes, I set out to see if the music was still in me. But now that I’ve found it — what am I going to do with it?

Creation is enough, but only to a point.

There comes a time when you have to ask: are you going to be the one to carry what you’ve made to its audience?

The artist’s work doesn’t end with the act of creation.

It continues with the decision to carry it all the way. Not just to pick up the cross, but to go through the full ritual — all the way to resurrection.

In this instance, I think of resurrection as the point of release —

When you’ve not just created what you wanted to make, but given it back to life, to the world… to its potential audience.

Because that is when a song, a photo, or a book completes its journey.

It no longer belongs to the one who created it; they were just its vessel.

The cage is unlocked, and the bird is released — it can now do the work, or help those it was designed to help.

Before that, though, you face the moment when everything feels against you — sure, time, money, resources — but just as importantly, your own resistance to what it is you might have to become in order to get it out.

And isn’t that the paradox?

That we resist the very thing the artwork would make of us, if only we had the strength to see it through?

When you drift from your project, you are entering the cave, and there is no guarantee that what you’ve made will ever reach its audience.

This is the moment of peril.

And yet, everything that’s created has its own inner life, its own inner will.

Part of your work in creating something is helping it fulfil itself — but in doing so, you task yourself with a burden you might not feel ready to bear.

So if you’re in the dark at the moment, it’s not because you’re not enough, it’s not because you’re weak or unworthy.

It’s because you’re in the heart of the way that life chooses to test you. And in this — this moment, right here — is the very opportunity you were subconsciously searching for when you first set out.

Because it’s only by emerging from the drift, from the dark, from the cave, that the vision which lit you up at the start will ever see its way into the world.

As for me?

I’ve had to admit that you can be doing exactly what you set out to do and still be hiding.

But that’s the trial by fire.

Facing that is the very thing that transforms you — from who you were before you set out into the new being forged by the act of getting there.

My next step is to break out of the comfort zone of my creative room and find a way to bring these songs—and this album—to the world.

I’ve recognised that I’ve found a kind of safety in the digital space. It’s my task now to find a way to break out of my own sanctuary.

Because if we give up on getting our work into the real world — as opposed to Spotify, Substack, or all the other online housings — then are we not letting go of what matters most?

Connection. Shared experience. The apotheosis of releasing what you made.

I’ve found myself adrift. But only by confronting those hard questions will I ever find a real answer.

So if you’re in a similar place, why should this not be your moment?

All it takes is the courage to turn around and face what is needling us, to begin the change.

As for me, I will soon release the 7th song of my new project — At Your End.

It’s final lyric?

You ain’t at your end, you're just getting started my friend…

In my heart, I want to live up to the vision I had when I started out on this project. I’m glad for a few tough questions — because it’s only in posing them that we get to answer them.

With love,

Jim

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QUESTIONS THAT HELP ME GET BACK ON TRACK

1. Am I making time for it?
   Or am I just waiting for time to magically appear?

2. Can I get back to it, even for half an hour?
   Momentum often begins in small pockets.

3. What part of my life can I simplify or streamline to protect creative time?
   Even small shifts can open new space.

4. Am I hiding behind what looks like progress?
   Or am I facing what the work actually asks of me?

5. What would it mean to carry this project all the way?
   Not just to finish it — but to release it into the world.

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A PERSONAL NOTE ON GOING ADRIFT:

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Photo taken in Hong Kong 2019

THE ARCHITECTURE OF A CREATIVE PROJECT

I wrote this as a little map, pulling together from the patterns I’ve noticed in my creative history:

1. The arrival of the vision

2. The question of whether to act

3. The eureka of decision

4. The zeal of beginning

5. The challenge of resources

6. The unexpected obstacle

7. The negative self-speak — am I up to it?

8. The recognition I’m off course

9. The decision to rise against the odds

10. The courage to bring it to fulfilment

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GOING DEEPER — NEW PODCAST EPISODE

You’ll Want to Quit. That’s Part of the Path.