Life can be challenging and sad... but music is the easy part.

Hear the words of St. Vincent, spoken like a sigh from the heart of an artist: “Life can be challenging and sad… but music is the easy part.” In this confession lies both lament and solace. For life itself, with its burdens, its sorrows, its endless demands, weighs heavily upon the soul; yet in the act of making music, there is a clarity, a simplicity, a river that flows without obstruction. She reminds us that art, though it may seem complex to others, is often the sanctuary where the artist feels most free.

The world is filled with trials. Love fades, friends betray, health declines, and death comes uninvited. These are the eternal truths of life—the struggles that humble kings and peasants alike. They are the storms that test the heart and soul. But for the artist, for the one who creates, the act of shaping sound into music becomes the calm eye of that storm. In this sacred act, chaos is ordered, sorrow is transformed, and clarity is born. What is heavy in life becomes light in song.

The ancients also knew this mystery. The psalmists of Israel sang laments when their world collapsed, and yet those songs endure, bringing peace to countless generations. Orpheus of Greece, legend tells us, played his lyre so beautifully that he could calm beasts and charm even the gods of the underworld. His life, filled with grief and loss, was shattered when Eurydice was taken from him—but the music that poured from his soul remained “the easy part,” flowing from pain into beauty. St. Vincent’s reflection belongs to this ancient lineage: the knowledge that art is the balm that makes the unbearable survivable.

History gives us further witness. Consider Beethoven, who lost the very sense most vital to his craft—his hearing. His life became almost unbearable, filled with despair and isolation. Yet in that darkness he composed symphonies that still shake the heavens. To him, music was not the burden but the refuge, not the struggle but the release. His life was full of sorrow, but his music flowed like fire from the core of his being.

St. Vincent’s words also carry a deeper wisdom: that what is most natural to us is not always what others expect. The crowd may imagine that writing songs is agony, that composing is torment, but the artist often feels the reverse—music is effortless compared to the weight of simply living. This truth reminds us that each person must find the place where their spirit moves without resistance, the place where effort feels like breathing. For in that place lies the secret of survival.

The lesson for us is this: do not be crushed by the hardness of life. Seek your “easy part,” the act or craft that frees you, whether it is music, writing, painting, prayer, or kindness. Let it become your sanctuary, your refuge, the place where sorrow is transfigured into something greater. Do not deny the sadness of existence, but balance it with the joy of creation. In this way, you will endure what otherwise would be too heavy to carry.

So let St. Vincent’s words echo as a teaching: though life is challenging and often sad, there will always be some part of us that flows with ease, some gift that rises above despair. Find it. Protect it. Return to it often. For in that sacred place—whether it is music or another form of creation—you will find the strength to face the storms of life, and perhaps even turn them into a song.