For most of my adult life, I lived under the weight of needing to prove myself—to achieve, excel, and create a sense of control in a world that felt chaotic to me. The word dilettante, derived from the Italian dilettare, means “to delight.” It describes someone who dabbles not out of obligation, but out of love and curiosity. For 28 years, I operated from the opposite perspective, building my identity around the pursuit of corporate-approved perfection and the avoidance of vulnerability at the cost of my own soul. Then, four years ago, that way of living came crashing down.

Recovery has been a long and winding process, shaped by experiences I never imagined—most profoundly, my encounters with Ayahuasca, the teachings of mindfulness, and the wisdom of Zhuangzi shared with me by Danielle. These practices and philosophies, though different in their origins, have pointed me toward the same truth: there’s nothing to fix. There’s nowhere to be. There’s nothing to do. The journey isn’t about becoming something or someone; it’s about learning how to let go, be present, and rediscover the joy of simply being.

The Illusion of Control

I believed that if I worked hard enough or perfected myself enough, I could outrun my fears and the ache of incompleteness. My academic work, my relationships, my creative pursuits—all became battlegrounds for proving my worth. In music, I withheld my voice and vision for decades because I didn’t feel “ready.”

Ayahuasca broke that illusion wide open. Sitting with the medicine was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. It stripped away the layers of identity I’d spent my life constructing, showing me the vastness and interconnectedness of existence. One night, the medicine whispered a truth that echoed my first vision: Embrace curiosity. This isn’t working. Find a new way. This revelation began to soften my grip on life, while mindfulness helped me embody this understanding in my attempts with daily practice.

The Beauty of Dilettantism

In this space of presence, dilettantism emerged not as a flaw, but as a liberating way of living. For all of my adult life until now, I’d dismissed this approach, believing that anything worth doing had to be done perfectly or as someone else dictated, or not at all. Now, I see it as a necessary practice of living-in-autonomy—an invitation to explore without the weight of expectation.

Zhuangzi speaks to this freedom in his writings, describing the joy of following the natural flow of life without attachment to rigid distinctions or outcomes. His stories, like Ayahuasca, challenge the egoic mind’s tendency to grasp and control. He reminds us that the deepest wisdom comes not from striving but from aligning with the Dao—the natural way of the universe.

Creating Without Striving

This perspective transformed and helped me justify my creative process. My album, Where’ve You Been?, became an experiment in dilettantism, created in a burst of energy islands among a choppy sea of mental chaos between February and April, 2024. I had to stop waiting to feel “ready” and just let myself create. The resulting imperfections—the varying mic distances, the crackling cables, my wavering voice—became part of its authenticity and a nod to my state of being at the time.

This Isn’t How I Used to Be,” one of the tracks on the album, exemplifies this approach. The improvised and haunting surf-rock guitar line and overlayed conversational saxophone weren’t planned to perfection. They emerged naturally, imperfectly, and alive as I worked through the spaces I was in. The song is a testament to stepping into the unknown and trusting the process. When I create now, I don’t ask, “Is this good enough?” I ask, “Am I present for this?” That shift has changed everything.

The Freedom to Explore

Dilettantism and mindfulness share a common thread: they invite us to live wide rather than narrow. When we let go of the need to excel, we open ourselves to curiosity, play, and discovery. Ayahuasca deepened this understanding, showing how much of life I’d missed by clinging to narrow definitions of success and eschewing my natural tendency to be curious. The medicine reminded me of my younger visions of expansive, interconnected possibilities—an infinite web of paths I could explore if I stopped trying to control the outcome.

One of the hardest parts of recovering my self has been re-learning as an adult to value the act of exploration over the need for expertise. But I’m beginning to see again that life isn’t about mastery; it’s about participation. Zhuangzi teaches this too, emphasizing that wisdom isn’t found in rigid knowledge but in the ability to flow with life as it unfolds.

Learning to Be

As I continue this journey, I hope to model a different way of being from what I’d done: to help show the world not as a series of checkboxes, but as an invitation to explore and create freely. Through my own practice of dilettantism—of showing up with curiosity, courage, and love—I’m learning to embrace the cracks, the imperfections, and the messiness as essential parts of the journey, and hoping to find others who do so as well.

If you find yourself feeling inadequate or overwhelmed by the need to achieve, remember: you are already enough. The path forward isn’t about becoming something more, but about discovering the joy and freedom that comes from simply being. Here’s to exploring, creating, and delighting in the journey—not because we have to, but because we can. I’d love to hear from you about your journeys, internal or otherwise, and where you’ve found they’ve taken you.


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