Over the years, I’ve gone deep into exploring the mind. I’ve asked myself the question, “Who am I?” and examined how my mind shapes my experiences. This journey has anchored me in the present, tuning into each moment as it comes. But about two years ago, life threw me a few hard hits. I struggled to quiet my mind, with thoughts that wouldn’t let go, creating this loop of suffering.

Last year, I was on Cape Breton Island, helping a monk friend clear trees that had fallen during Hurricane Fiona. I was up on a spruce tree, crisscrossed over other fallen trunks, when my friend told me he’d head back to the monastery to make lunch. I said I’d join him in 10 or 15 minutes—I wanted to finish what I’d started.

Shortly after he left, I slipped.

The other day, while updating my personal website, I read my own writing, a story I’d written years ago about a climbing expedition I went on at 19. Typically, once I write something, I don’t feel the need to revisit it—I’ve already let it go. But this time, I found myself reading about that climb up one of the world’s highest mountains, remembering the feeling of excitement and a hint of fear yet also feeling invincible, as only a 19-year-old can. That was more than 20 years ago.

The other day, I was driving to a meditation retreat when I felt a sudden sense of panic. This is something I’ve been dealing with for the past year, but especially over the last six months. It’s particularly frustrating because it seems to happen most when I’m driving, a time when I need to be focused. And yet, despite all the tools I’ve learned for staying present and calm, this sensation of panic rises in my body.

During a deep meditation, I had a profound mystical experience that changed my life. Afterwards, I searched for others who had similar experiences, I wanted to hear their stories, hoping to find words that could capture my own experience.

Do you ever feel like a fraud? Do you fear that someday, someone will call your bluff? You’re not alone. Studies show that up to 82[1] % of the population experience feelings of not being good enough no matter how much they have actually achieved. So, how do we challenge these feelings in ourselves and others? Read on.

With artificial intelligence tools becoming more popular, the question question arrises of AI’s role within the arts and whether it can truly replace musicians, writers, and illustrators. If the next radio hit, catchy jingle, or best-selling album is just a few prompts away, are we wasting our time still making music the old-fashioned way?

Two stories that have been in my conversations as of late are that of the feature article in MetalSucks "L.A. Band Threatin Faked a Fanbase To Land a European Tour No One Attended,"and Bobby Owsinski’s article "Artists Gaining Fake Spotify Plays From Unexpected Source."Two stories about less than honest approaches to trying to obtain success in music. 

When you throw yourself into the unknown, the feeling of commitment to the action is visceral. It’s what wholehearted commitment feels like. It’s the feeling you get when your feet have left the dock and your body has not yet hit the water, yet your mind has already accepted the impact. In my perception of reality, the water is always there to catch me. I live by the idea that life begins at the end of my comfort zone and that I will always adapt. Taking action can be hard and uncomfortable — you have to believe that you will always adjust and that manifesting something you don’t currently have will come only through taking new actions.

I was recently interviewed by Darian Hogan at Music Supervision Central. See below:
Canadian-born global music entrepreneur Aaron Bethune has just released his new text, entitled Musicpreneur. The book serves as an invaluable music-industry resource that “relates to left and right brain thinkers alike, hopefully connecting the two.”