I can't change everything. But I can do something.

This week in the United States has been difficult.

This week in my creative and business life has been fantastic.

It was difficult to reconcile the two until I talked to my mentor.

She--herself a business owner, commercial real estate investor, and dancer--said that right now the world needs joy.

Like, right now. At this very moment.

The world needs our music, our laughter, our enthusiasm for life.

Online this week on social media, I shared her sentiment with artists who similarly were struggling either with achieving some success or wondering if the efforts were worth it at all considering *gestures to world*.

Go for the success.

Yes, the effort is worth it, if not for you, then for others who need the impetus to get up and do their own art.

I'm writing this, in fact, because someone else encouraged me to do so. I've been feeling bad. My mentor said, "Say that. This is part of art--feeling overwhelmed, useless, terrible. 'Who am I to try to get others laugh and sing and dance, especially now, and then be successful at it too? Who am I to want that now?' Let other artists know you feel this way, and that you're doing it anyway."

So I'm saying it: I feel bad. Look at what's going on. But I'm doing my art anyway.

As a Vipassana meditator, we learn experientially that all things change.

All things change.

All seasons end. This too will pass. Nothing lasts forever.

Insert your own cliche.

For now, though, this season is here. Let us face where we are boldly, unflinchingly, and then make decisions.

You are allowed to do this with fake boldness. Do whatever works. But we do have to face where we are so that we can make decisions that'll help guide our future. Mathematician here: small steps can equal large returns.

While this season is here, we must endure, and it's a lot easier to endure if you can guffaw...even if it's gallows humor for now. It's a lot easier if you can cry out...and there's a lot of music from opera to Icelandic death metal with which we can cry out. It's a lot easier to get through if your magic in the kitchen translates into comfort and sustenance and style all rolled into one.

I went to the Detroit Institute of Art on Friday night. You know what I noticed?

It was P A C K E D.

Folks are coming to see the art for whatever reason--to be inspired, to fall in love, to get away from the world for a bit, to be part of the world for a bit, to get inspiration...

During a very difficult week for the entire US, folks went to the museum to see some art.

Including me.

My mentor is correct.

We must do Our Art, whatever that might be.

Painting. Singing. Chemistry. Husbandry.

Now's the time to go all in with your art. Let that be the everlasting legacy of this era, our collective art.

That's something you can control, that you can share, that you can use to influence the hearts of others when reason won't do, and that you can later say, "I did that when this was happening and was not silent".

As I sit here staring out the window, I am gathering the energy to do exactly that--I'm designing my next art thing and figuring out next creative moves and workin' stuff out.

I can't change everything. But I can do something.

Let's.

My company, The Piano Instructor, helps professional musicians become effective educators. I write training curriculum and present at conferences. For example, I just finished designing this interactive training regarding artificial intelligence in music. Please subscribe.

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In addition, I perform as Sugar Calzone, in leather heels and faux furs and jewels.

I'm a woman in STEM--I teach the math that happens in the music, sometimes during a concert while playing Bach.

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