I'm gonna make music, and I'm gonna capture every aspect of

The young poet of the modern age, Mac Miller, once uttered a truth that echoes like thunder in the valleys of time: “I’m gonna make music, and I’m gonna capture every aspect of being a human being. That’s really all I’m trying to do. I think that artists and pop culture identities are used to simplify what it means to be a human and pigeon-hole people into looking up to one role model.” These words are not merely the confessions of an artist—they are the lament of a soul wrestling with eternity, the cry of one who refuses to let life’s vastness be reduced to a single shallow reflection. For in them is a declaration: that to be human is too vast, too wondrous, too contradictory to be trapped in a cage of stereotype or idol.

When he speaks of making music, he speaks not of notes alone, but of the eternal act of creation. To create is to wrestle with existence itself, to shape chaos into form, to carve meaning out of the wilderness of experience. And when Mac declares that he will capture every aspect of being a human being, he declares war on the false simplicity that society demands. He seeks to embrace the joy and the despair, the triumph and the failure, the laughter of children and the tears of the dying. For what is humanity if not the weaving together of light and shadow into one endless song?

The wisdom here lies in his resistance to pigeon-holing. Too often the world demands that we choose one mask and wear it until death. The strong man must never show weakness, the gentle soul must never show rage, the successful must never confess doubt. Yet the truth is otherwise: within every soul is a vast ocean of contradictions. To deny this is to cut away pieces of our own humanity. Mac, in his music, sought to reveal it all—the sacred and the profane, the holy and the broken—so that others might see themselves in the mirror of his art and know they were not alone.

History gives us examples of those who, like Mac, refused the chains of simplicity. Consider Walt Whitman, who wrote in his Leaves of Grass: “Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes).” Whitman, too, declared the fullness of human complexity. He would not be reduced to one image, one role, one frozen identity. His poetry danced between love and death, body and soul, exaltation and despair. And though the world at times mocked him for it, his words endured because they rang with the truth of humanity’s many faces. Like Mac Miller, Whitman stood as a testament that art must embrace the whole of being, not just the polished fragments.

Let us not overlook the heroic struggle within Mac’s words. To capture every aspect of being human is not a task for the faint-hearted. It requires the courage to expose one’s wounds, to confess one’s fears, to walk openly through the fire of vulnerability. This is why many shy away from it. It is easier to wear a single mask, to let the world see only the surface. But the true artist—the true human—must be willing to bare the storm within. Mac Miller, through his music, offered that courage to others. He showed the world that even in brokenness there is beauty, and even in chaos there is meaning.

The lesson for us is clear: do not let the world simplify what it means to be human. Do not let yourself be imprisoned in one identity, one expectation, one fragile mask. You are not only the worker, the parent, the friend, or the role you play in public. You are the vastness of your dreams, your contradictions, your passions, your sorrows. To live fully is to embrace all of it, not to hide the parts that seem inconvenient or confusing to others. The river of humanity is wide, and every current flows within you.

So, what must one do? Be like Mac. Create—not only music, but life itself as art. Let your words, your choices, your actions express the fullness of your humanity. Speak honestly, even when your truth is messy. Allow yourself joy without shame, and grief without apology. Resist the voices that would force you into narrow roles, and instead show the world your multitudes. Practice self-reflection daily; write, sing, paint, or simply breathe with awareness of your own vastness. Above all, share that truth with others, for in your honesty you grant them the freedom to be honest as well.

And so, children of tomorrow, let these words echo in your bones: you are not meant to be one mask, but many voices, many colors, many rhythms. Do not settle for simplicity when the universe within you is infinite. Like Mac Miller, take up the sacred task of expressing your humanity in all its contradictions. In doing so, you will not only live—you will sing.