Music is my form of cleansing and introspection, so I have to

The singer SZA once proclaimed: “Music is my form of cleansing and introspection, so I have to grow in order to accomplish it.” In these words lies a sacred truth, one that the ancients would have understood as well as we do today. For music is not merely an art of sound; it is a mirror of the soul, a vessel through which the spirit is washed clean of dust, sorrow, and illusion. To create true music, one must undergo growth, for only a heart that has endured, reflected, and transformed can give birth to tones that are both healing and eternal.

The ancients believed that all art was a kind of purification. The Greeks called it catharsis, the purging of the soul through tragedy, song, or poetry. In SZA’s words, this tradition is reborn: music becomes her cleansing, the fire that burns away what is false, the water that washes her inner temple. Yet cleansing does not come without the hard work of introspection. To look inward is to face the shadows within oneself—the doubts, the fears, the wounds we would rather hide. But only when these shadows are acknowledged can the voice rise pure, bearing truth in every note.

We see this path reflected in the life of the poet Rumi. After the loss of his beloved teacher, he was shattered by grief. But in that breaking, he turned inward, and from the depths of his sorrow came verses that still touch hearts across centuries. His poetry, like SZA’s music, was born of introspection and made possible by inner growth. Had he remained unchanged, clinging to his old self, the fountain of his words would never have flowed. So too, in our time, SZA reminds us that only by expanding, by evolving, by stretching past the confines of who we were, can we unlock the power of authentic expression.

Think also of the great Nina Simone. Her voice was not forged in ease but in struggle, in facing a world that denied her dignity. Through her music, she confronted her pain, cleansed her soul, and in turn, gave courage to millions. But her songs were not born from stagnation; they demanded that she grow into her truth, face injustice, and let her artistry become both her weapon and her sanctuary. Here lies the essence of SZA’s teaching: that growth is not optional, but essential for creation that heals.

For the listener, SZA’s words are not only about the artist’s journey, but also about our own lives. We may not all write songs, but each of us carries a form of expression—whether in speech, in kindness, in work, or in silence. If we remain stagnant, clinging to old fears or habits, what we offer the world will be hollow. But if we embrace change, if we grow through reflection, then our voice—whatever its form—will carry healing, not only for ourselves but for others.

The lesson is thus: make time for your own introspection. Seek the quiet moments where you can hear the murmur of your soul. Let life’s trials be not chains, but teachers. When pain comes, ask: “What must I learn here?” And when joy arises, let it fill you with gratitude and humility. Growth is not always comfortable, but it is the soil from which the purest song is born.

Practically, let each day contain a ritual of cleansing. Some may write in a journal, pouring their truth upon the page. Others may meditate, breathe deeply, and cast away their burdens. Still others may, like SZA, turn to music, whether by listening or creating. Whatever the path, do it with sincerity. For the act itself is a way of polishing the mirror of the heart, until it reflects light once more.

Remember, then: your expression—whether through words, deeds, or songs—will only be as true as the growth you have endured. Like SZA, cleanse yourself through your chosen art. Look inward, grow, and emerge stronger. For in growth lies the power not only to accomplish creation, but to heal both yourself and the world.