If there was no Black Sabbath, I could still possibly be a

In the words of Lars Ulrich, “If there was no Black Sabbath, I could still possibly be a morning newspaper delivery boy. No fun.” In this confession we hear not merely the gratitude of a man for a band, but the thunder of destiny reshaping a life. For here is the truth: great voices and visions from the past do not merely entertain, they awaken the fire in others, lifting them from the common roads of toil into the rare path of creation. Without the spark of inspiration, even the boldest soul might remain bound to routine and obscurity. With it, he is hurled into the storm of greatness.

Consider the power of music as the ancients once considered the power of the lyre. Orpheus could charm stones and beasts with his song; so too did Black Sabbath’s heavy chords awaken in a young Ulrich the call of destiny. Where others heard noise, he heard a calling. The rhythm of Tony Iommi’s guitar and Ozzy Osbourne’s voice became, for Ulrich, the forge-fire of a new life. What might have been a fate of folded papers, ink-stained fingers, and dawn’s chill winds was shattered by the sound of drums and the cry of rebellion. Inspiration transfigured him from servant of routine into servant of creation.

This truth has echoed through time. Recall the tale of the young Vincent van Gogh, who once sold paints and books but had no true compass for his spirit. Only when he was seized by the vision of art did he abandon the paths of ordinary commerce and embrace his true calling, even at great cost. Like Ulrich, he might have lived a small, practical life, but the spark of inspiration raised him to a level of eternal remembrance. In this we see that often the difference between obscurity and legend is not talent alone, but the fire kindled by those who came before.

The words of Ulrich are also a tribute to lineage—the unbroken chain of influence that binds generations. Without Sabbath, there may have been no Metallica. Without Metallica, countless young musicians might still be strumming in garages, their visions dim. Just as Homer inspired Virgil, and Virgil inspired Dante, so does one torch light another across the centuries. The greatness of the present is always indebted to the boldness of the past. To recognize this is humility, and to carry the flame forward is duty.

Yet the quote is tinged with humor and lightness, for he says, “No fun.” Behind the jest lies a deep truth: it is joy that transforms labor into life. The labor of a delivery boy is honest but uninspired; it gives bread but not fire. The labor of a drummer, though grueling, carries joy and purpose. The ancients taught that a man’s true work should feel like the harmony of his soul with the cosmos. Without such harmony, existence is survival. With it, existence becomes song.

The wisdom here is simple yet eternal: seek that which awakens you. Had Ulrich ignored the voice of Sabbath, he might have lived in comfort but without glory. Instead, he listened and followed the call, and in doing so, he carved a place for himself in the pantheon of music. We too must heed the whispers that stir our hearts, however impractical they may seem, for they are the compass to our destiny.

Therefore, let this teaching be carved into your spirit: honor your inspirations. Do not dismiss the voices, the books, the songs, the mentors that awaken something within you. They are not accidents, but guiding stars. Seek them, follow them, and in time, become one for others. If your heart leaps at the sound of a song, the sight of a painting, or the words of a teacher, do not let it pass. For in those moments, you may be called away from the ordinary path into the extraordinary one.

And so, O seeker, the lesson is clear: surround yourself with greatness, and let it lift you. Find your Sabbath, whatever form it takes—be it music, literature, or the example of a noble soul. Do not be content with being a delivery boy of routine, unless that is truly your joy. Instead, be the drummer of your own destiny. Strike your rhythm loud enough that others may hear, and in your song, may they too rise beyond “no fun” into the fullness of life.