I listen to music all day every day. I can't not listen to

Hear the words of Billie Eilish, child of sound and prophetess of the modern age, who declared: “I listen to music all day every day. I can’t not listen to music. It’s kind of scary how much I listen to music, but it’s what I love, and it’s all I care about, so I’m good with it.” In this confession, we see not simply an artist’s habit, but the revelation of a soul bound to song as breath is bound to life. For some, music is pastime; for her, it is lifeblood. It is the river that flows unceasingly through her mind, the companion in joy and sorrow, the eternal flame that warms her spirit.

The ancients too knew of this binding power. Pythagoras, who studied the harmony of the spheres, proclaimed that the cosmos itself was held together by music—that the movements of stars and planets were but the echo of divine tones. Orpheus, mythic bard of Greece, could charm beasts and bend even death’s gates with his lyre. To those like Billie, who live with music in every moment, these myths are not distant tales but living truths. For they understand that music is not an accessory to life—it is life itself.

Consider the story of Ludwig van Beethoven. As he fell into the abyss of deafness, the world expected his song to fall silent. Yet, in the terrifying silence of his body, he heard still the music of eternity, and composed symphonies that thundered through history. Like Billie Eilish, he could not “not listen”—for the music was inside him, louder than silence, unquenchable even by loss. To those bound by such passion, it is “scary,” as Billie said, for it consumes them wholly—but in that consumption, greatness is born.

Billie’s words are not only about passion, but about surrender. To say “it’s all I care about” is to admit that she has given herself over fully to her art, holding nothing back. This echoes the ancient understanding of devotion. The samurai devoted themselves to the way of the sword, monks to prayer, poets to verse. Each gave their lives over to a single path, not because it was safe, but because it was true. To live divided is to live half a life. To live surrendered to one’s love, as Billie to music, is to live whole, even if it seems frightening to those who stand outside.

Yet this passion also carries warning. Fire warms and illuminates, but fire can also consume. To love so fiercely can feel “scary,” for balance is easily lost. But perhaps, as Billie accepts, that is the price of greatness. The river of music that runs through her is not meant to be dammed, but to be followed wherever it leads. And so she finds peace in her surrender, saying, “I’m good with it.” This is not madness, but courage—the courage to live authentically with the passion that defines her.

The lesson is clear: find the thing you cannot not do. For each soul has within it a calling so strong that to deny it is death of the spirit. If it is music, then live in it. If it is teaching, healing, building, writing, or loving—then give yourself wholly to it. Do not be ashamed if your passion seems excessive, if others call it strange or frightening. That fire was not given to them, but to you. And in that fire lies your purpose.

Practical wisdom follows: identify your flame. Ask yourself: What do I love so much that I cannot escape it, even if I wished to? Then do as Billie does—surrender, without shame. Make time for it each day, allow it to shape your life, and guard it as sacred. For the one who lives in their passion lives in truth. And though it may be consuming, it is better to burn with meaning than to drift in cold indifference.

So let Billie Eilish’s words endure as teaching: “I listen to music all day every day… it’s what I love, and it’s all I care about.” Let this be a banner for all who live with burning devotion. For the world is not changed by those who dabble, but by those who surrender, who give themselves fully to their art, their calling, their truth. May each of us find our own “scary” passion—and in surrendering to it, find the fullness of life.