Start at the End

I was recently asked a question that made me pause and contemplate: What does success means to me? Not society, not my parents, not my teachers, not my peers, not the media - just me. It's so easy to rattle off distractions about the typical ideas of success - money, power, recognition, titles, curing cancer - and for some that is success, but I've always known that's not the things I feel called to acheive.

To me, success is doing something meaningful that inspires me, surrounded by people I love who challenge and support me (and vice versa).

That's hella hand-wavy, Julie.

Ok, let's make it concrete: I love music. I love my family. I love my friends. I love creative and exploratory environments that try to do things differently. I love feeling like I'm a part of a grassroots subculture. I've known this FOREVER, but somewhere along the way I settled and convinced myself that other people's safe and boring ideas of success were my own.

My version of success is being part of a community that facilitates how music is shared, experienced, and remembered. Whether it's online, in a club, or on the radio, by yourself, with other people...I don't care about the medium, I just want to make people's lives better with music.

If I'm being completely honest, it's pretty scary to talk about this stuff so candidly. I worry that some will think I'm shallow for not trying to pursue something more philanthropic or humanitarian. I'm not trying to save the world, not by a long shot. But when I think about what I'd want said at my eulogy, it's something along the lines of helping to build and connect a community of people who were interested in exchanging cool music and expanding/challenging the stereotypes of sound. Significance in sharing a music related moment with me...whether it be an introducing you to artist/label that changed your life from a given point forward, giving a bedroom DJ/producer/songwriter their first big break, showing a friend/kid how to DJ for the very first time, or curating an unforgettable night of sound where people relentlessly dance from sun down to sun up in a white-eye, out-of-body experience.

The older I get I constantly worry that I drift further and further away from my version of success and settle for the illusion of safety.

"A lot of you have your whole life in front of you, and it is a book full of empty pages. And you get to write that book. And you write that book with every choice you make. If you decide that you are meant to be something special, then that is the book you will write. If you decide that you are meant to be nobody, then that's the book you're gonna write. And I'm not here to dog you out and tell you what type of book you should write. I'm just hear to tell you, you can write whatever you want..."