I just make music however I feel and pray that it connects, and

Hear the words of SZA, singer of the soul and weaver of sound: “I just make music however I feel and pray that it connects, and if it does, I’m super thankful. I think genres are more for other people, not for yourself.” In these words is the eternal truth of the artist’s path—that creation is not born of rules or boundaries, but from the heart, and that its purpose is not self-glorification, but communion. She gives thanks not for fame, nor for classification, but for the mysterious bond between creator and listener, between spirit and spirit.

The ancients knew this truth well. The bard of Greece, Homer, did not write within the boundaries of a genre; he sang what the Muse placed in his heart, and from that inspiration arose the Iliad and the Odyssey, stories that endure for all time. The prophets of old spoke not with scholarly categories but with burning words that poured forth like fire. SZA’s wisdom reflects this same lineage: the artist does not belong to the walls of definition. The song arises from feeling, raw and untamed, and its worth is measured not by labels but by whether it connects with the soul of another.

Her declaration is also an act of humility. “If it does, I’m super thankful.” She admits that no artist commands connection; one can only send forth a song like a dove upon the waters, and hope it finds a resting place. This gratitude is ancient and noble, for it acknowledges that the power of art lies not in the artist’s control, but in the mystery of reception. The farmer sows, but the harvest depends on soil and season; the artist creates, but the fruit depends on the hearts of listeners. In giving thanks, she honors this divine partnership.

Consider the life of Vincent van Gogh, who painted not for genres or critics, but from his soul. His brush was guided by his feelings—his anguish, his awe, his relentless love for color and light. In his lifetime, he connected with few, but in the generations that followed, millions felt what he felt, and his art became immortal. Van Gogh’s journey mirrors SZA’s teaching: the artist must first create honestly, without bending to categories, and then trust the universe with the outcome. The connection is a gift, never a guarantee.

Her words also speak to freedom. To confine oneself within genres is to place chains upon inspiration. Categories are useful for listeners, yes, but deadly to the artist if they become prisons. The ancients knew this when they celebrated the figure of Orpheus, who sang not according to rules but according to passion, taming beasts and moving even the stones with his song. True art flows beyond borders, like a river carving valleys through mountains. SZA’s wisdom is the same: music must not serve labels, it must serve the truth of the soul.

The lesson, then, is plain: in your own craft—whether it is art, work, or love—do not create to fit expectations. Create from feeling, from truth, from the core of who you are. And when your work touches another, be thankful, for such connection is sacred. Do not measure success by categories or rules, but by authenticity and the lives you touch. For in honesty lies power, and in gratitude lies peace.

Practical wisdom calls you to action: each time you create, ask not, “What category does this belong to?” but rather, “Is this true to me?” Let your work arise from the depths of your spirit. Release it into the world not with pride, but with prayer that it may connect with someone in need. And when it does, let your first response be thankfulness, for you have participated in the ancient bond of giver and receiver, creator and listener, heart to heart.

Thus, from the words of SZA, let us carry this teaching: that the role of the artist is not to obey genres, but to honor feeling; not to demand connection, but to hope for it; not to boast, but to be thankful. For art is not a cage of rules—it is the song of the spirit, sent forth into the world, seeking the souls it was meant to touch. And when it finds them, the circle is complete, and both artist and listener are made whole.