Dusk or Dawn?
Between holding on and letting go, but still choosing to create.
Is this dawn or dusk? Is the sun perhaps climbing behind that mountain? Or is it already sliding down the ridges, gone, never to return? I've lived through so many nights, waited for dawn so many times that I no longer know if what I see is the first light of a new day or the last of a day I never
There’s a moment that anyone chasing an ambitious (or maybe just crazy) goal eventually faces. It’s the moment when, no matter which direction you run, the solutions stay the same distance away.
Everything stands still. And when you gaze toward the horizon, you can't tell whether that faint light means the night is deepening—or if the first signs of dawn are finally breaking.
Lately, I’ve often found myself asking:
“Is this dusk or dawn?”
Is it time to let go, or to give it one final push?
There’s no shame in letting go.
In fact, knowing when to let go is a rare skill—one I truly admire in those who can look at what’s happening in their lives with a bit of detachment. But when what you do is part of who you are, when it’s tied to your identity, walking away becomes much harder.
Perseverance is often glorified, but I believe it takes even more strength—and courage—to let go. You have to be incredibly strong to admit that something you love is hurting you.
The highest form of courage (and this is where I fall terribly short) would be to sit quietly in these moments of suspension—of complete uncertainty, of twilight—and appreciate them.
To enjoy that fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, the few things still around us are enough to carry us to a day we’ve never seen before.
As I said, I’m not brave enough to manage that. Uncertainty overwhelms me. But I still try to make sense of what happens to me—so I make music.
With these thoughts in my heart, I painted this painting and wrote this music,
while one sentence kept echoing through my mind—one I truly want to believe:
“Wherever the world takes me, it will be the right place.”