I am thankful that I can perform with Hui and E'dawn, who

The words of Hyuna carry the voice of renewal and gratitude: “I am thankful that I can perform with Hui and E’dawn, who revived my listless feelings as a musician and helped me feel refreshed.” In this confession we hear not the pride of a solitary artist, but the humble acknowledgment that inspiration often returns through the presence of others. She speaks of thankfulness, of companions who rekindled the dimming flame within her spirit, proving that even the strongest need the spark of fellowship to rise again.

To be listless is to know the heavy silence that falls upon every artist and every soul—the silence when passion grows weary, when creation feels empty, when the path that once glowed with promise becomes gray. Many have walked into such valleys and never returned. Yet Hyuna’s blessing was this: that she did not walk alone. Through the energy of Hui and E’dawn, her companions in performance, her tired heart was stirred again, and she discovered the joy of music as if for the first time. Her gratitude is a testimony that renewal comes most often not from isolation, but from connection.

The ancients knew well the power of companionship in reviving weary spirits. Recall Achilles and Patroclus, whose bond strengthened each other even amidst the desolation of war. Recall too the story of Beethoven, who in his later years nearly surrendered to despair as deafness closed around him. Yet through friendship and the encouragement of those who believed in him, he found the will to compose works that would echo across centuries. Just as Hyuna’s artistry was restored by her companions, so too do history’s greatest figures remind us that fellowship is the antidote to despair.

In her words we also glimpse the humility of a heart that does not claim self-sufficiency. To say, “they helped me feel refreshed” is to confess need, and yet to rejoice that such need was met by others. This humility is strength, for it allows renewal to enter. The proud spirit that refuses help often withers alone, but the humble spirit that accepts encouragement finds life renewed. Hyuna’s honesty becomes a lesson: never be ashamed of needing others, for it is in mutual giving that the human spirit grows.

Her testimony is also a celebration of art as communion. Music is not created in a void; it thrives on the energy exchanged between performers, between friends, and between artist and audience. By performing with Hui and E’dawn, Hyuna discovered that music is not only about self-expression, but about shared experience. It is the joining of voices, the weaving together of strengths, that awakens the heart. What was listless becomes vibrant when it is infused with the vitality of others.

The lesson we must take is timeless: when the fire of your spirit grows dim, seek companions who can help you reignite it. Do not believe the lie that you must endure alone. Instead, surround yourself with those who inspire, who uplift, who remind you why you began. Be thankful for such people, and when you find them, hold them dear. For they are not mere allies; they are healers of the soul, instruments through which the divine gift of renewal flows.

Therefore, let us act. If you know someone whose heart has grown weary, offer your presence, your encouragement, your energy. You may be the one who revives them. And if you find yourself listless, do not retreat into despair—seek out those who bring life to your spirit. For the wisdom of Hyuna is clear: the flame of passion may falter, but with companions to tend it, it can blaze anew. And in this renewal lies not only joy for the artist, but inspiration for all who witness the fire rekindled.