the importance of being earnest

facing half-heartedness

“Sing Good” by Ninajirachi almost always makes me cry. Over a simple, pulsing beat, she tells the story of her relationship to music: her days listening to music on the bus with her friend to trying it for the first time as a part of a class to eventually dedicating herself to it, despite her limitations. We move through time with different versions of the chorus: ”Cause I can’t really sing good / But I’m still gonna try it / If only cause I like the way it feels.”

Since re-listening to the album last week, I’ve listened to “Sing Good” dozens of times. It loops during my commute, at work, in the tub, while struggling to write. The beat is hypnotizing, the chorus echoes through my mind, calms me, drawing lines across my gray matter and bringing me to the verge of tears repeatedly. Her love for music is obvious, in the sincerity with which she describes it, in the intensity of her work ethic reflected in the craft of the song and the album. Why did I find it so affecting?

I tried to find the right words to describe it, maybe a clue to help understand my reaction. The word earnest appeared in my mind, as if it were conjured by the synthesizers. This song was beautifully earnest, I thought, but what exactly does that mean?

I had thought “earnestness” was a synonym for sincerity — another way of calling someone genuine — but I realized I had been missing a part of the definition. Earnestness is sincerity combined with a serious commitment to your beliefs. To be earnest, your heartfelt intentions aren’t enough; you must act on them with conviction.

Even though I had been working with the wrong definition of the word, this idea of earnestness was familiar, reminiscent of how some of my mornings start. With sleepy eyes, I grate ginger and pour hot water over it, impatiently running through my ritual for my morning chai. Gravity feels a little stronger than usual. And then I hear muffled sounds of excitement through the door to my brother’s room: singing, laughter, excited chatter. I smile and immediately know he’s doing an early morning songwriting session with one of his friends. When I once mentioned how happy he sounds during those sessions, he answered the way any artist should answer, ”it’s because music is the best thing in the world.”

I know this is an earnest statement because I’ve seen his conviction, watched him make music for well over a decade and dedicate more and more time to it, backed by the sincerity of his belief. And he’s right! Music is the best thing in the world!

I whisper to myself: But, reading is the best thing in the world! A single sentence can make a man shiver for days, a beautiful story can set ablaze a phony life, a novel can grant one new eyes to see the world. Writing is the best thing in the world! That insane act of conjuring, opening your head up to the muses to let your life sublimate into something greater, offering the great relief of letting that powerful creative muscle push against a boulder. I say it with sincerity, and wonder if I have the conviction to make it earnest.

I question, because these expressions of earnestness stand in sharp contrast to my life. I was struck by “Sing Good” and by my brother’s statement because I so deeply wanted to live in earnest rather than the half-hearted way I often carry myself through life. Here were two people who loved something so dearly that they turned their lives into monuments to it. They love music and became music and no one could tell them otherwise. And then there’s me, with the many moments where my intentions to prioritize art, to prioritize other people, to prioritize anything fell apart in the face of a comfortable bed, or another YouTube video, or another hour doomscrolling.

I hadn’t realized how complacent I had become, how much I’d leaned into convenience over doing difficult, important things. There’s more for me in this life, this I know. My heart sings along to Ninajirachi, it anchors itself to stories of dedication to craft, it pulls me toward a different life — one where I can stop feeling stuck in my writing because it doesn’t seem to connect to people like it used to, one where I don’t feel like a beginner after over a decade, one where I write and write and write, just because I like the way it feels.

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💧 Drops of the Week 💧

• ALBUM - I Love My Computer by Ninajirachi - so good!

• POEM - “Sweet Darkness” by David Whyte - You must learn one thing. / The world was made to be free in. / Give up all the other worlds / except the one to which you belong.