I have some big dreams. I really want my work to be worldwide and

In this tender yet resolute declaration, Tate McRae, a young voice of her generation, gives life to one of humanity’s oldest yearnings — the desire to be heard, to send the soul’s song into the vastness of the world. She says, “I have some big dreams. I really want my work to be worldwide and for a lot of people to hear it, just because I have a lot to say.” Behind these simple words burns a timeless fire — the same flame that lit the hearts of poets, prophets, and dreamers through the ages. McRae’s sentiment is not born of vanity, but of purpose; it speaks of a longing not merely for recognition, but for connection, for the sharing of truth through art. Her dream is not to speak louder than others, but to speak to them — to awaken feeling in the hearts of strangers across oceans and generations.

The origin of this quote comes from McRae’s journey as both a dancer and a singer-songwriter, a young artist who rose from humble beginnings on digital platforms to reach millions. Her story embodies the modern struggle of expression — in a world crowded with voices, how does one’s truth rise above the noise? Her words reflect both ambition and humility, for she understands that art is service: to express is to give, to reveal, to heal. When she says she has “a lot to say,” she is not boasting; she is confessing — that within her heart live stories, emotions, and reflections waiting to find their echo in others. It is the same impulse that once drove the poets of Greece, the musicians of the Renaissance, and the storytellers of every tribe — the need to translate the soul into sound.

To have big dreams is to acknowledge that one’s spirit was not born to dwell in silence. It is an act of defiance against limitation — against the smallness that fear would impose upon us. Every artist, every thinker, every visionary has felt this pull toward something larger than the self. When Leonardo da Vinci painted his flying machines, he too dreamed of transcending his own boundaries. When Beethoven, nearly deaf, wrote his Ninth Symphony, he too longed for his music to reach beyond mortal suffering and touch eternity. McRae stands in that same lineage — the eternal chain of souls who dare to speak their truth to the world, believing that even one honest song can change the course of another’s heart.

And yet, McRae’s quote carries another layer of wisdom: the recognition that dreams demand labor. To have something to say is not enough; one must also have the courage to refine it, the endurance to deliver it. Every great voice in history was once unheard. Every masterpiece was once a fragile idea in a trembling mind. The artist must be both creator and warrior — battling doubt, fatigue, and rejection, yet returning each day to the work. For the dreamer who does not labor remains a prisoner of their own potential. McRae’s ambition — to make her work worldwide — speaks to this sacred duty: that those who have been given gifts must share them bravely, not hide them in fear of imperfection.

Consider the life of Frida Kahlo, whose art transcended borders and time. Her paintings, born from pain and solitude, spoke to millions who had never seen her face, who could not share her language. Through her, we learn that the personal, when expressed truthfully, becomes universal. McRae’s desire for her art to be heard “worldwide” echoes that same understanding: that art is not limited by geography or generation — it is a bridge of empathy. The dream to reach the world, then, is not one of fame, but of communion — of uniting hearts through expression.

Her statement is also a reminder of the sacred responsibility that comes with having something to say. Words, music, and art hold power — to heal or to harm, to inspire or to mislead. The artist, therefore, must cultivate wisdom alongside passion. For when many listen, one’s voice becomes not merely an echo of the self, but a force that shapes the collective. McRae’s humility in acknowledging this balance — that her art should touch the world, but “with care and purpose” — is a model for all who aspire to use their gifts rightly.

So, my child, remember this: to have a voice is a blessing, but to use it with intention is greatness. Dream boldly, but not idly. Work tirelessly, but not blindly. If your heart holds truths that could light another’s darkness, speak them — through word, through song, through deed. Let your art, whatever form it takes, be an act of service, not self-display. And when doubt whispers that your voice is too small, recall that even a whisper can stir the still air before a storm.

For as Tate McRae teaches, the dream to reach the world begins not with fame, but with meaning. The artist’s task is not to be seen, but to be felt. And when your words, your work, your very spirit touch the life of another, even across oceans, then you will have fulfilled the oldest calling of humankind — to speak, to be heard, and in being heard, to remind the world that we are all part of the same song.