Most musicians don't have a music problem.
They have a "I'm not sure I deserve this" problem.
A consistency problem.
A "life keeps winning" problem.
I'm Sarah — and I write about all of it.
For most of my adult life, I kept my musical self quietly in the background. I was good at words, good at my job, good at showing up for others. Music felt too vulnerable — too much like being seen in my most unguarded place.
It took a long time, a lot of inner work, and a few unexpected moments of grace to bring that part of me forward.
Now I'm here. Writing honestly about what that journey actually looks like.
What This Space Is About
This blog exists at the intersection of music and the inner life of making it.
I write about the things musicians don't always talk about openly: the creative blocks that aren't really about technique. The burnout that comes from giving everything to everyone else. The comparison spirals. The hyperindependence that quietly isolates us from the very community our art needs to breathe. The slow, unglamorous work of building a creative practice that actually lasts.
I write from experience — my own, still unfolding. I'm not writing from the other side of a completed transformation. I'm writing from the middle of one.
And I believe that's exactly where the most honest, useful writing comes from.
Who I Write For
This blog is for musicians who are serious about their craft — but struggling to stay consistent, silence the inner critic, or build a creative life that doesn't come at the cost of everything else.
It's for the ones who have been quietly treating music as a someday thing. Who know they want more, but aren't sure how to get there without burning out along the way.
It's for anyone who has ever sat down with their instrument and felt — nothing. Not because the music left. But because they had given everything to everything else first.
If that's you: you're in the right place.
A Little More About Me
I'm based in Germany, and I've been living with music my whole life — as a refuge, a language, a form of self-expression that goes deeper than words.
My path has wound through many spaces: facilitation, community work, ceremonial contexts where music became something even more layered and alive. Each of those experiences shaped how I understand the relationship between music, presence, and the inner world.
Right now, I'm in the middle of my own professionalization journey — committing seriously to the accordion, investing hundreds of hours into building the musical foundation I've always wanted. I write about that process too. The real version, not the highlight reel.
I also host The Music Room — a biweekly online gathering for musicians at every level, where you show up with your work-in-progress and are met with support rather than judgment. It's the community I built because I needed it myself.
My Approach
I don't believe in hustle culture for musicians. I don't believe in grinding your way to creativity or pushing through burnout as a badge of honor.
I believe in sustainable creative practice. In building something that lasts. In showing up consistently, imperfectly, and with enough self-awareness to recognize when you're functioning — and when you're actually living.
I believe music is not just a skill. It's a relationship. And like any relationship, it needs honesty, attention, and room to breathe.
That's what I try to bring to everything I write here.