Life lessons from a weeb

I never really understood people who said things like "x/y/z changed my life."

It always sounded overdramatic to me. I mean, sure, there have been movies, books, and songs that made me emotional — but permanently change my being? I was adamant it was impossible.

That is, until, I listened to Porter Robinson's Nurture.

To be honest, I wasn't a huge fan of Porter before Nurture. Despite all of its technical acrobatics and machismo, Spitfire felt hollow; and while I enjoyed his debut studio album Worlds much more in comparison, I only revisit it for select tracks like "Divinity" and "Sea of Voices."

But Nurture is something completely different.

I can't seem to help myself from coming back time and again — as moved by it as I was during my first listen.

A large part of this is due to the album's relatable subject matter: at its core, Nurture is a tender, self-reflective journey into the highs and lows of the creative's life.

At times, Nurture is unapologetically bursting at the seams with joy. At others, it's unsure of itself, overly critical, and racked with self-doubt. What's so intriguing about Nurture is that it straddles all of these themes masterfully, culminating in what I can only describe as a beautiful, raw expression of the creative experience.

To be clear, this is not an album review (I leave that kind of work to the professionals), but rather a summary of the life lessons Nurture taught me — or, perhaps more accurately, reminded me of.

Just stay alive

"Look at the sky, I'm still here / I'll be alive next year, I can make something good. . ." (Look at the Sky)

Every creative has their bad days.

It's an unavoidable part of the job, given you typically have to create a deluge of bad work before you create something "good." Sometimes this process takes longer than usual, and that can be discouraging — hell, depressing even.

But as long as you're alive, you can try again. And again. And again…

Eventually, you'll create something good again. There's something strangely reassuring about that.

So be patient, and don't be so hard on yourself. As Naval so poignantly said,

"Don't take yourself so seriously. You're just a monkey with a plan."

It's not always going to work out

"A solemn man, A better song could fix my problems. . ." (Mirror)

When I was making music back in university, I'd have days where I'd write chords that were complete crap.

Then, I'd go hang out with my girlfriend or family… except I wasn't there. Not mentally. I had retreated far into my mind and was still obsessing over how I could achieve a certain sound.

But those days where I felt I nailed it — where a chord progression or melody came to me and everything just "worked out" — well, then I was walking on clouds.

The problem is that things working out isn't the norm. The days you struggle greatly outnumber the days you don't; it's a fact of life every creative has to continually remind themselves of.

I'd be lying if I said I had completely come to terms with this. Even knowing the duality of creativity, there are times I become withdrawn when a project isn't meeting my standards.

However, the difference now is that I can snap out of mental ruts quicker by remembering a simple truth: that even if things don't work out, it will all be okay in the end — just as Porter sings at the end of "Mirror."

Because it always is.

Recognize the gift

"Maybe it's a gift that I couldn't recognize, Maybe I don't really need to feel satisfied / Maybe it's a gift that I spend all this time, Just trying to feel alive" (Trying to Feel Alive)

Being a creative can feel like a curse sometimes.

That's because life feels meaningful when you create, and meaningless when you don't.

As I'm sure any creative type will attest, jobs where you can't use your imagination feel like torture. Seconds feel like hours. On a long enough timeline, you may even begin to question whether or not your life has any value.

Further adding to the creative's burden is the fact that their sense of meaning is fleeting. The creative spirit is insatiable; no matter how much you feed it, it's always hungry for more. Your work will never be finished.

I'm sure this sounds awful to some people, but personally, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Though I may not always recognize it as such, creativity is a gift. I'm grateful to be on this quest for meaning — as endlessly ephemeral as it is. It pushes you to constantly reinvent yourself. Without it, I wouldn't be half the person I am today.

Keeping an optimistic, open mind

With its disarmingly honest lyrics and eudaemonic melodies, Nurture did something I thought was impossible: inspire me to become a more optimistic person.

It appears there are things in life capable of influencing you beyond the moment — things that leave a lasting imprint on the soul itself. It makes me wonder... how many other things in life have I been wrong about, or too close-minded to grasp?

Maybe you do deserve to exist.

Maybe your creative spirit is just a gift you couldn't recognize.

Just maybe.