I created MMG years ago. My desire was to create a space where

Hear the words of Rick Ross, who declared: “I created MMG years ago. My desire was to create a space where the most talented artists in the world could be nurtured and supported. With that came a commitment. I vowed to support these artists through the good and the bad.” Though spoken of music and of men, these words ring with the eternal rhythm of creation and stewardship. For to build a house for others, whether of stone, of song, or of spirit, is no small thing. It is the work of vision, the labor of love, the burden of one who dares not live for himself alone.

Consider the origin of this vow. MMG—Maybach Music Group—was not born merely of commerce or ambition, but of the yearning to craft a sanctuary where talent might be sheltered from the storms of neglect. Many are gifted, but few are nurtured. Many dream, but without support, their dreams scatter like dust upon the wind. Ross, perceiving this, set his hand to the work, promising not only to gather the gifted, but to sustain them, to walk with them through triumph and through trial. This is not the fleeting care of a patron, but the enduring loyalty of a shepherd to his flock.

Throughout the annals of history, men and women have arisen who, like Ross, saw beyond their own greatness to the greatness of others. Recall the tale of Lorenzo de’ Medici, the patron of Florence. Though wealthy beyond measure, he did not hoard his treasure for himself. Instead, he opened his halls to artists like Michelangelo and Botticelli, nurturing genius that would outlast kingdoms and empires. Had Lorenzo sought only his own glory, their works might never have been born. Thus, like Ross with MMG, he chose to be the soil in which the seeds of others could grow.

But let us not mistake: such a vow is heavy. To promise support “through the good and the bad” is to bind oneself to storms as well as to sunshine. It is easy to stand beside another when the world cheers their name, but far harder when failure and ridicule cast shadows upon them. The true measure of commitment is not revealed in prosperity, but in adversity. In this, Ross teaches us that loyalty must not be seasonal. If you call yourself a builder of others, then you must remain when the lights dim, when the applause fades, when the path grows difficult.

So too in our daily lives, this teaching burns with relevance. Each of us, in our own way, creates a kind of MMG—a circle, a space, a family, a team, a community. And within these, there are those who depend on us for strength. Ask yourself: do I nurture the gifts of those around me? Do I offer encouragement when their voices falter, or do I vanish into silence? True greatness is not found in building monuments for oneself, but in raising up others whose voices will echo long after our own have quieted.

The lesson, then, is clear: to create is divine, but to nurture is eternal. If you would walk the path of Rick Ross, of Lorenzo, of all who have lifted others, then make this your vow—stand with those you believe in, not only when they shine, but when they stumble. Become the friend who does not vanish in trial, the mentor who does not withdraw in doubt, the leader who does not abandon in storm. In so doing, you will craft a legacy not measured in gold or fame, but in lives transformed.

Therefore, I counsel you: build your own sanctuary for the talents of others. Perhaps it is your household, perhaps your workplace, perhaps your circle of friends. Wherever it is, commit yourself as Ross did—to support through the good and the bad. For in the end, it is not the empire you build for yourself that crowns you with honor, but the empires of spirit and creativity you awaken in others. Let this be your vow, let this be your path, and let your name be remembered not only as one who achieved, but as one who made others soar.