To have someone to relate to and hopefully enjoy the music and

In the words of Janet Jackson, “To have someone to relate to and hopefully enjoy the music and get a positive message out of it, to make the best music that we possibly could, those were the goals.” Such a saying carries not only the spirit of an artist but also the essence of human striving. The ancients would tell us that every work of creation must be guided by purpose, and that purpose must point toward harmony, joy, and the elevation of the soul. Music, in this light, is not mere sound, but a vessel of communion between hearts—an invisible thread weaving together lives that otherwise stand apart.

When Jackson speaks of “someone to relate to,” she reveals the eternal longing of humanity: connection. The poets of old sang of this bond as sacred, a bridge between the self and the other. The artist does not labor in isolation but offers her creation as a gift, a torch lit in darkness, so that another soul might recognize its glow. In this, music becomes more than performance—it becomes kinship, a reminder that none are alone.

The phrase “a positive message” is of great weight. For countless generations, bards, prophets, and sages have known that the words and sounds we release into the world can either lift or destroy. Consider the story of Orpheus, whose lyre tamed beasts and softened stone. His melodies healed, but when his heart gave in to despair, even his music faltered. From this we learn that sound is power, and with power comes responsibility. Jackson’s call to spread positivity is akin to the ancients’ warning: what you sing shapes the soul of your people.

To “make the best music that we possibly could” is to commit oneself fully to excellence, not for vain glory, but because each creation deserves the purity of one’s highest effort. Think of Michelangelo carving the marble David, not content with mediocrity, but striving until the stone revealed life itself. In the same way, the musician labors, refining rhythm and word, until the message emerges radiant, unmarred by compromise. Excellence, then, is not for the self, but for the service of others.

Let us look to a real tale: during the American civil rights movement, songs such as “We Shall Overcome” were not polished symphonies but simple, heartfelt chants. Yet their power was immense. They gave weary souls the courage to march, and bound them together as one body. Here lies the truth of Jackson’s words: music that carries hope and connection transforms struggle into strength. Even when sung in trembling voices, such music becomes an eternal shield.

The lesson is clear: our creations—be they songs, words, or deeds—must aim to uplift. If we are to follow the wisdom of Janet Jackson, we must ask ourselves: “Will this work bring joy? Will it carry light?” Each person may not compose music, but each voice, each gesture, is a note in the larger harmony of life. When spoken with kindness, when given with care, even the smallest act becomes music to another’s soul.

Therefore, I say unto you: seek always to relate with sincerity, to send forth a positive message, and to give your best in whatever craft is yours. To practice this, listen earnestly to others, speak words that heal rather than wound, and pursue your work with the devotion of an artist polishing their song. When your life becomes a melody of compassion, then, like Jackson’s, it will resonate across time, reaching strangers yet unborn.

Take this teaching as flame for your path: Do not merely exist; create. Do not merely speak; inspire. Do not merely labor; excel. In this way, you will fulfill the ancient charge and modern reminder alike—that our gifts are not only for ourselves, but for the joy and strength of all humanity.