It's Not About the Song

Finding Purpose Beyond the Finished Product

Why do so many of us make art? Millions—likely billions—of people engage in creating art without expecting external rewards. The rewards come from within, and therein lies the dilemma. We are wired to seek external validation; it's human nature. We yearn for connection, recognition, better status, and more resources. But in doing so, we can overlook the deeper purpose of art: exploring our own interior landscape and celebrating the essence of being human.

It’s not about the song; it’s about the act of songwriting. It’s not about the singing; it’s about vocalizing and expressing oneself. It’s not truly about the finished product—it’s about staying connected to what moves us and following that curiosity wherever it leads.

There’s nothing quite like birthing a song!

How do we shift our focus to embrace this? Can we learn to see the process as the goal? Can the act of creation itself be enough?

Great songs don’t appear after a few half-hearted attempts or from a thirst for external validation. They emerge from a place of deep introspection and persistence. We must go inward, explore, stay curious, and discover what moves our hearts. And when we do, we can trust that others will be moved too.

At a recent songwriter retreat with Andrea Stolpe, I was struck by how everyone had quite different opinions about each song. And they should—opinions are part of being an artist. But the real question is: are those opinions the ones that matter? Songwriters, like any artist, can be the fiercest critics of other songwriters. But art isn’t made for critics; it’s made for the artist’s own soul.

Art is about celebrating our essence, about feeling something new and different that goes beyond passively consuming someone else’s work. What if songwriting is a way of consuming your own soul, your own heart, your own mind? What if the act of creation is an internal process—a cycle of digesting, processing, exploring, and challenging oneself?

The song, the book, the painting—these are just the artifacts of the real work happening inside us. The many practice sessions are the compost for our next creation.

When I follow my creative instincts and stay true to what moves me, I find joy, comfort, and a deeper connection to life. Music, for me, has always been a playground, a space to feel human and discover more of myself.

Whatever your playground may be—whether it’s pencil drawing or something else entirely—it doesn’t matter if you’ve taken a class or not. The act of creative expression is accessible to everyone. Just watch a four-year-old with crayons.

They color outside the lines, crumple and uncrumple the paper, spill glue, and continue on undeterred. They don’t worry about what others think. Sure, it’s nice if a parent or teacher gives praise, but the magic lies in being lost in play, lost in the moment, finding themselves transformed by the experience.

Every time I sit down to create, it changes me a little. I can’t quite explain it, nor do I need to. It’s not about tracking metrics or chasing likes. It’s about recognizing that I am here, engaging in something that makes me feel more human, more connected to myself.

Art is an act of honoring ourselves. It’s a luxury, and I know that not everyone has the space in their life for art. Yet, I would challenge that there are many entry points, even if they haven’t been exposed to them. Schools and society may undervalue the importance of art, but ask any artist, and many will tell you that their art saved their life. Artistic expression allows us to remember who we are and learn things about ourselves we wouldn’t discover in the daily grind or through passive consumption.

I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Does any of this resonate with you?

How does the creation process show up for you?

Is it really about the song, the painting, the sculpture?

Or is it, after all, about the act of creation itself?