The key to the mystery of a great artist is that for reasons

The composer and conductor Leonard Bernstein, a man whose soul sang through every gesture of his hands, once spoke with reverence of the sacred fire that burns within the artist: “The key to the mystery of a great artist is that for reasons unknown, he will give away his energies and his life just to make sure that one note follows another... and leaves us with the feeling that something is right in the world.” These words are not merely about music — they are about devotion, sacrifice, and the divine madness that compels the true artist to labor beyond reason, beyond reward, and beyond the bounds of the self. Bernstein unveils what the ancients once called daemon — that invisible spirit that drives creation, demanding of its vessel total surrender in exchange for a moment of truth and beauty.

When he speaks of the artist who “gives away his energies and his life,” Bernstein reveals a truth older than civilization itself: that all great art is born of self-offering. The artist is not a merchant but a servant of something higher — a seeker who trades comfort for creation, ease for meaning. Like the mystic who prays through the night, the composer toils through silence and chaos until at last harmony emerges. For him, the reward is not gold nor praise, but that fleeting instant when “one note follows another” — when order blooms from nothingness, and the heart of the world, if only for a moment, beats in rhythm with his own.

Bernstein’s life embodied this truth. A man of brilliance and boundless energy, he lived not for leisure, but for the sacred act of making music. When he stood before an orchestra, he was like a prophet conducting creation itself — his body trembling with passion, his eyes alive with fire. He once said that every concert should be a “religious experience,” and indeed it was, for in his music one could feel that something larger than man was speaking through him. Like Beethoven, who composed symphonies though deafness engulfed him, or Michelangelo, who painted the Sistine ceiling until his body broke beneath the labor, Bernstein saw in creation not choice, but destiny — the calling that demands the artist to give everything so that something eternal might remain.

The mystery Bernstein describes is that no one truly knows why an artist does this. Why does the poet write into the night, though his words may be forgotten? Why does the dancer destroy her body for the perfect movement, unseen by most? Why does the painter starve while painting visions that no one will buy? It is because deep within them burns a sacred instinct — the need to set something right in the world. They sense the disharmony of life — its cruelty, confusion, and noise — and through their art, they strive to restore order. Every melody, every brushstroke, every verse becomes a defiance against despair, an act of faith that beauty can still redeem what chaos has broken.

Consider the life of Johann Sebastian Bach, a man who composed not for fame but for God. Day after day, he wrote music that few outside the church ever heard, music that seemed to pour from another realm. He never sought glory, yet his works became the foundation upon which centuries of music would rise. Why did he labor so tirelessly? Because, as Bernstein understood, art is the prayer of the soul, and in each perfect chord Bach found the echo of divine order. He gave his life to the music — and in doing so, made the world feel right again.

But Bernstein’s wisdom also reminds us that this sacrifice belongs not to artists alone. Every person, in their own way, is called to create something — to build, to teach, to heal, to nurture. Whenever we give our energy, our love, our time for the sake of others or for the beauty of truth, we become artists of life itself. The act of creation, whether in a symphony or in a simple kindness, is what keeps the world whole. To live creatively is to resist the slow decay of the spirit — it is to affirm that life, though fragile, can be harmonious.

So let these words of Bernstein be carried like a torch within you. The true measure of a life is not in what it keeps, but in what it gives. Do not fear to pour out your strength for something beautiful, even if none understand it. For when you give yourself wholly — to a craft, to a cause, to love — you too will help to make “something right in the world.” And when the day comes that your own song is complete, may it leave behind that same quiet harmony — the kind that tells every soul who hears it that life, for all its chaos, is still full of meaning, balance, and grace.