You Don't Have to Be Great at Something to Inspire Others

Not long ago, I got an email from a friend asking to book a guitar lesson with me.

I read it, laughed out loud, and said to the room, "When did I start giving guitar lessons?"

My son didn't even look up from his phone. "I'm pretty sure you don't have time to add one more thing to the list of things you do."

Fair point.

She'd offered to pay me for my time, which, as someone in a creative profession, I appreciated. We're so often asked to give ourselves away for free (our time, our skills, our attention) as if wanting something in return makes the gift less generous. It doesn't (read that again, my creative professional friends — I’m talking to you). I told her I wouldn't take her money. I'd rather spend an afternoon strumming guitars together as friends than teach a formal lesson I'm not remotely qualified to charge for.

Here's the truth: I'm not great at guitar, but I’m good enough to strum a few songs I’m not totally ashamed to play in front of people. This friend has seen me post about playing, about how much I love it, and something about that made her want to work on that skill herself. That's the thing that struck me.

We don't always know what we're passing on.

Playing guitar has a way of settling my soul. So does painting, even though I'm not particularly skilled at that either. There's no audience, no grade, no outcome I'm chasing. It just quiets the noise in my head long enough for me to feel settled in my own skin again.

I think about social media a lot — whether it's worth the noise, whether posting about my life adds anything real to the world. But this was a reminder of what I actually want to use that platform for. Not to perform. Not to point out how awesome my life is. I just want to spark something in someone else that leads them to more peace and happiness in their life. If sharing a video of myself fumbling through a new song on my guitar makes one person dust off their own guitar, or pick up a paintbrush, or do the thing they've been talking themselves out of — that's not nothing. That's the whole point.

We can't fix everything. We can still do something.

It's hard to sit with how much is broken right now. Wars. Corruption. Stories surfacing about horrific crimes against women and children, committed by people with enough power to avoid consequences. It's heavy, and it's real, and I'm not going to pretend otherwise or tell you to just "raise your vibration" and look away.

But I've stopped believing that outrage posted into the void changes much of anything. Facebook arguments don't rewrite policy. Online shouting matches do not open minds. What I can control is smaller, and closer, and honestly more within reach than the entire brokenness of the world: how I show up in my own life, and whether the joy I cultivate in myself has anywhere to go once it's there.

That's not avoidance. In fact, it’s the starting point.

Joy clarifies. Noise doesn't.

The version of me that's most connected to her own inner wisdom isn't the version scrolling headlines at midnight. It's the version with a guitar in her lap, not overthinking a single thing, just being present. That's when I hear myself most clearly. That's when I know which decisions are actually aligned with what matters to me, instead of reacting to whatever feels urgent in the moment.

I can't fix all that’s wrong in the world. But I can trust myself enough to protect the things that bring me back to center, and let that steadiness — not certainty, just steadiness — be what I offer other people through my newsletters, social posts, and maybe even through one Friday afternoon guitar session at a time.

A Simple Practice for Your Week

This week, try naming the thing that settles you the way playing guitar or painting settles me. Not something you're good at. Something that just quiets you.

• Name it honestly. No qualifications, no "well, I'm not really an artist, but..." Just what it is.
• Do it once, on purpose, before you need it. Don't wait for burnout to give yourself permission.
• Notice who's watching. You might be lighting a fire in someone else without ever knowing it.

You don't have to be good at something for it to be good for you.

Until next time, let your inner light guide you,

Jessica

P.S. You know I love to hear your thoughts!

Is there something you do purely for joy — not because you're skilled at it, but because of how it makes you feel? What's stopping you from doing more of it?

Hit reply and share your story with me. I can’t always reply to every response, but I read every single one of them and try to respond to as many as possible.