To see the positive reaction to my music makes me feel good.

The bold and unflinching artist Cardi B once spoke with candor, saying: “To see the positive reaction to my music makes me feel good.” At first, these words appear simple, almost casual, but within them rests a truth as ancient as the bard’s calling: that the purpose of music is not only self-expression, but communion. The joy of the artist is not complete until it is shared, until it is reflected in the hearts of others. For in that positive reaction, there is proof that art has reached its destination—it has touched another soul.

To understand this, one must know that music is not born in isolation. Though it may begin in solitude, in the quiet labor of composition, it is meant to travel beyond the self. Music is a bridge, a thread between creator and listener. When Cardi B speaks of feeling good at the audience’s response, she acknowledges that the artist’s fulfillment is magnified when the work finds resonance in others. Without listeners, a song is but an echo in an empty hall; with them, it becomes alive, vibrant, and immortal.

This truth is as old as history. Think of the griots of West Africa, storytellers and musicians whose task was not only to sing but to awaken the spirit of their people. Their joy was not in the performance alone, but in the way their audience leaned forward, eyes shining, hearts stirred. It was in those moments of connection that the griot’s work was validated. So too with Cardi B, whose music, born of her own struggles and triumphs, takes on greater meaning when it ignites energy, laughter, or empowerment in those who hear it.

Even in classical times, this same law held true. When Beethoven conducted the premiere of his Ninth Symphony, he was already deaf, unable to hear the sounds himself. Yet when the audience erupted in thunderous applause, he turned to see them, and his heart swelled. Though he could not hear the music, he could see its positive reaction, and that was enough to assure him that his art had not been in vain. Cardi B’s words, though spoken in modern tongue, are kin to that same truth: art finds completion in the joy of others.

Yet there is also something deeply human in her statement. For to admit that another’s joy makes me feel good is to admit vulnerability. It shows that even the strongest performers, even those who stand boldly on the world’s stage, seek affirmation. This is not weakness, but humanity. For what artist does not long to know that their work matters, that their voice has not disappeared into the void? And what person does not wish to know that their efforts, their struggles, their truth has touched another?

The lesson here is profound: we, too, must find joy not only in what we do for ourselves, but in the way our actions uplift others. Whether through music, words, kindness, or labor, our greatest fulfillment comes when what we give is received with gratitude. To live only for ourselves is a lonely path; to live for connection is to find meaning. Like Cardi B, we should seek not cheap applause, but genuine positive reaction—the proof that we have lifted hearts, inspired courage, or brought laughter into another’s day.

Practically, this means: do your work with sincerity, and then watch closely for the ways it touches others. Let their gratitude strengthen you when you are weary. When you receive encouragement, do not dismiss it lightly, but cherish it as proof that your voice matters. And in turn, be generous in giving feedback, praise, and gratitude to others, for your reaction may be the very thing that gives them courage to continue.

So remember this wisdom: art is not complete until it is shared, and its greatest reward is the joy it brings to others. Whether in music, in words, or in deeds, strive to create connections that inspire positive reactions. For in those reactions, you will find not only validation, but joy that endures—a joy born of communion, a joy that lifts both giver and receiver into something greater than themselves.