I was actually going to go to a conservatory after I graduated

When Kevin Olusola reflects, “I was actually going to go to a conservatory after I graduated college, now I’m thankful that Pentatonix happened because I’m working with singers in this realm of mainstream music, and to learn about how all that comes together has really helped my cello playing,” he speaks as one who has stood at the crossroads of destiny. His words are not merely about career shifts, but about the mysterious ways in which life redirects us. He honors the unexpected path, for it led him not into isolation, but into collaboration, not only into classical discipline, but into the living river of popular art.

The conservatory is a symbol of tradition, of deep immersion in classical form, of mastery pursued in solitude and rigor. It represents a noble path, and many great masters of music have walked it. Yet for Kevin, fate intervened. Instead of retreating into the cloistered world of conservatories, he was called into the collective of Pentatonix, where harmony was born not from one instrument alone but from many voices united. His thankfulness shows us that sometimes the unexpected door opens onto the truer destiny.

This has been the story of many throughout history. Consider Leonardo da Vinci, who, trained to be a painter, found himself diverted into the design of machines, anatomy, and invention. His genius was not diminished by this redirection—it was multiplied. Or George Gershwin, who began with humble piano rolls before stepping into the concert hall, blending classical and popular into timeless music. Like them, Olusola’s choice—or rather, the chance that came to him—allowed him to merge the discipline of his cello with the freshness of mainstream music, creating something greater than either alone.

There is wisdom in his recognition that working with singers changed his own playing. This is the power of collaboration. Alone, an artist refines; together, artists expand. By learning how voices interweave, how rhythm and harmony rise and fall in popular forms, Olusola deepened his understanding of music itself, making his cello not just a classical instrument but a vessel for new sound. It is a reminder that true growth often happens when we step outside the expected and enter into dialogue with others.

The essence of his thankfulness lies also in humility. He does not say that Pentatonix made him famous, though it surely did. He says it helped his playing, his growth, his artistry. This is the mark of one who values the craft above the applause, the learning above the laurels. For the greatest gift of unexpected journeys is not fame, but transformation of the self.

From his words we learn a lesson: do not cling so tightly to the path you imagine that you cannot embrace the one life sets before you. The conservatory might have refined Kevin Olusola, but Pentatonix gave him expansion. So too in our lives, what seems like a detour may in truth be the straightest road to our fulfillment. Gratitude is the key—it allows us to see opportunity not as accident, but as providence.

So I say: walk forward with vision, but hold your plans lightly. Be open to collaboration, to the unexpected call, to the voices that might shape your own craft. And when life gives you something different than what you first imagined, be like Kevin Olusola—be thankful, and recognize that every new path has the power to sharpen your gift and deepen your song. For in the harmony of many voices, your own instrument may at last find its fullest voice.