Jaylan,
On November 29th 2021, we celebrated the 5th anniversary
of the year you changed my life, for the better.
Around this time, 5 years ago, I was sitting in a college classroom, stressing over a final exam in Anatomy. 100 fill-in-the-blank answers; a third of them filled with a plea to the professor: “this is the final credit I need for my Associate Degree. I don’t want to be a doctor or nurse. I just want to pass this class, and go home to my newborn son.”
I finished my Associate Degree in Arts one week after my son was born.
After that, the survival instincts really kicked in. There was a new pressure. To provide for a family. The question became how? Plenty of friends and family had suggestions and ideas. But even in the face of disapproval, I was still dead-set on one idea: to become a full-time music producer.
I began making sacrifices in all the wrong places. Sacrificing quality time with my wife and son. Choosing unpaid work over picking up extra hours at my gas station job. Hoping the dedication and sweat equity would pay dividends.
Most painfully, I sacrificed friendships in the face of personal gain.
I placed all bets on a music career, and almost lost what was most important.
Priorities were out of line.
The passion was gone. It became work.
And I fell out of love.
I would go months without making music. In between, were random bouts of inspiration to write songs. It became therapeutic. I remember as a child dreaming of performing on a stage. With age, I convinced myself it was just a dream.
“You're too skinny and awkward.”
“You can’t sing.”
“You're just a ‘weird percussion kid.'
"You've been rejected your whole life. Why would anyone listen now?”
“You've got a baby and wife to take care of now.”
“Maybe, It’s time to move on.”
This is the self-talk I learned, as a defense mechanism. An internalized echo chamber of painful words once said, stuck in the feedback loop of my subconscious. This is the cognitive dissonance I’ve had to overcome.
I still fight these lies.
Shortly before we knew Jaylan was on the way, I was ideating on a concept, inspired by a book called “The Artist’s Way” by Julia Cameron.
It brought me to new realizations:
There is an artist within all of us. Creativity is innate to our nature. As children, we explore our imagination freely, until the outside world begins teaching us what to think, in place of how to think. We instinctively try new things in new ways, until a rigid structure is put in place by authorities and fortified by enablers of conformity. We lose connection to our inner child, who had no criticisms for what we do.
Reconnecting with your inner child is what brings forth the joy and playful nature of creativity. You don’t think twice for what feels natural. You remember how fun it is to play again, just as children do. After all, as artists, aren’t we just playing?
I wanted to create a meaningful message.
Being only a music producer, made that a challenge. I kept trying to communicate the ideas to other artists, with the hope they could formulate lyrics that deliver the message.
This friction brought the whole idea to a halt.
I came to realize: This is my story. No-one can write it for me.
After self-destructing my deepest relationships, I fell into a depression. I was without community. I lost my identity. I was no longer in survival mode, but rather in a state of preservation of what little self-worth I had left.
The original ideas for inner child kept coming back to me sporadically, in moments of clarity. I would answer the call to create, fall in to a state of flow, and become obsessed all over again. In between inner child songs, I would write about the growing pains I felt when ruminating on the past. With hindsight, I could more clearly put into words these experiences.
At this point, I was 6-months into a fulfilling career with a financial services company. In the years leading up to the opportunity, I had been reading books on personal finance, and knew this was something I needed to understand, to increase my long term chances of success. I had $1000 in my savings account when Jaylan was born. That was terrifying. But, from that moment forward, we never had less.
This career opportunity immediately put me in a position to afford raising a family, and move out of my dad's house. I was getting a real-world education in finance by helping people with their finances. I fell in love with the company's culture, and still love what I do to earn a living. I found belonging, and even a sense of prestige. This career-path allows me to do two things that I love: learning and sharing.
I've developed a reputation for being a "subject-matter expert."
I continued to save and invest at an increasingly accelerated rate.
I was no longer in a state of survival.
But my heart was still aching.
I had all the songs for inner child, and it sounded unprofessional.
However, now I had expendable income.
One day, when commuting from work, I noticed a music studio on my usual route home. I had been taking this same path for months. How did I not notice a music studio?
As a spiritual man, I treat all conversations aloud as conversations with God.
I asked, “Lord, should I turn arou-“
And before I could finish the question, I felt my hands already turning the car wheel around.
I parked outside and walked into a classroom full of pianos. Out of the studio in the back, walks Jon-John Robinson. During the conversation, I didn’t tell him much of anything about who I was, or what I had to offer. I wanted to know if I could trust him, before revealing inner child.
During our conversation, I discovered his music career was the length of half his lifetime…which is equal to the entire length of my lifetime. He is a Grammy-winning, Multi-Platinum awarded, nonchalant name-dropper and all. He was brushing shoulders with the hottest names in R&B when I was wearing diapers. His track-record was impressive and verifiable.
He is a man of Faith, and in Faith, I trusted him. Not because of the accolades. But because he was still doing it. He saw through the glamour and glory of the fiery-hot Hollywood illusion and walked amongst the idols in the City of Angels (Los Angeles).
And, yet he's still creating music. Because he loves it.
I didn’t spend much time explaining during our first meeting. I let the music speak for itself.
I plugged up the aux, played one song, and we shook hands.
I was not prepared for this next part. We recorded the album, mixed, and mastered it in what felt like no time. We went through the process of releasing Loose Ends, and planned to continue the album roll-out. Then, I got stuck again.
I needed cover art, content, music videos, a website, LLC, EPK, etc, etc, etc.
I got most of that now... sort of.
The bouts of depression had returned tenfold, in what was likely the most vicious attack of mental disposition I will ever experience. I finished writing what will be inner child's follow-up.
so, I sat on the album another year. and then another year.
all the while, my career in finance just continued to get better and better. I bought a house. my investments have seen fruition, salary increases kept coming. Checking off all the big goal boxes everybody wants. Life should be good right?
Why does my heart still ache?
There's still this one lingering box unchecked.
I love to share. I want to share everything I know and give you everything I've got.
I want inner child to be yours, not mine.
I still feel so unprepared. But at this point, I'm ready to keep creating.
I learned so much from my studio time with Jon-John and hope to work with him more in the future. The Father's in our lives deserve respect for the path that they paved. This man played an integral part in this chapter of my story. Now we turn the page.
This is where we stand today. 5 years later, and the second single is out.
what do babies dream about is available on all music streaming platforms.
Expect the next one in less than 5 years.
love,
rumi