My Renaissance

There have been a couple of times in my life when I’ve stepped away from music to focus on other endeavors. Call it a hiatus, a break, a burnout, or a change of pace—the truth is, it was a little bit of all of it. One of these periods happened during my university years; the other began a couple of years ago, sparking an internal tug-of-war that I’ve been battling ever since, until recently.

For the sake of focus, I want to talk about this most recent chapter. Truthfully, nothing "happened." It was a slow drift—a gradual sense of stepping away (dare I say even “giving up”) fueled by a great career opportunity that finally offered me the stability and security I was craving.

Let's rewind a bit: I had been teaching privately for a while and truly loved it. I thrived in the academies and music stores, loved that practicing and playing music was built into my work life, and got to be a part of breakthrough moments with students of all ages. At the time I was also performing; I held a performance residency, took one-off gigs, and was on the verge of landing a second residency.

But there was a ceiling.

Even though I was treated well by those I worked with and worked for, I wasn't reaching my financial goals. I was making ends meet, but I wasn't moving the needle much as I wanted. Most other performers and private teachers that I met along the way had other gigs and jobs. My evenings and weekends were always booked, and I felt, for the most part, capped out. I was “trapped” in the classic "time for money" trade, and as any musician knows, there are only so many hours in a day you can teach when your students are all working or in school. Not to mention you often have to choose between teaching and performing.

That was when I started casually applying for roles in my previous field: technology and I landed a great job. With my return to a “9 to 5” I quickly got hooked on the stability. Then a while after that first role, came another opportunity—better pay, more security/stability, and a role that pulled me directly into my technology specialization of choice: audio/visual. 

On paper, I had finally 'made it.' I had the stability I’d been chasing for years—and the stability others had always encouraged me to seek. For a while, I told myself this was simply what life looked like: that sacrificing my main passion was the price of admission for a secure life. I felt like I had to choose. Due to a combination of factors, I started to convince myself of a dangerous lie: that I was better off without the uncertainty of music. I even started to tell myself that being a musician wasn't the "real job" I needed it to be and that I needed to stop chasing dreams and start focusing on "real-world" responsibilities. 

It was during this second job that I seriously considered walking away for good. I even sold some gear and had honest conversations with friends and family about parting with my saxophones. 

What “brought me back”? Nothing dramatic. It was seeing a great performance, a familiar song, and the undeniable realization that I was missing a fundamental piece of myself.

So, I started practicing again. I started posting on Instagram. I began re-buying gear—and eventually, I even bought a new saxophone, expanding my collection.

This year is the year. Even if I approach it as a hobby at first (and even if it becomes nothing more), I am getting back into the music and getting good again. I hope (and plan) on strategically rebuilding my studio and brand, bigger and better than before. 

I’m not looking to trade one path for another, either. I genuinely enjoy the opportunities and challenges of my work in IT and A/V, and I’m proud of the career I’ve built. I’ve just realized that I don't have to choose between being a professional and being a creative. Don't get me wrong, both fields can be all-consuming. Whether it’s the on-call rotations and constant up-skilling required in IT or the crazy number of hours in practices and performances that it takes to “good” at an instrument both fields demand their price. But I am confident I can balance and furthermore will be better off for it. If you're balancing a technical day job with a creative obsession, let's figure it out together. Time to get to work.