You don't just have to be influenced by rock, or goth, anymore.

Hear now the words of the artist Grimes, who declared: “You don’t just have to be influenced by rock, or goth, anymore. It’s okay to say, ‘My influences are Tin Pan music from Bali and Rihanna.’ There are still so many combinations that haven’t been done yet.” This saying is not merely about music, but about the vast horizon of human creation. She speaks of influence, of the power to draw from the rivers of many cultures and eras, and to weave them together into something new. Her words remind us that no soul is bound to a single tradition, no mind is chained to one school of thought. Instead, we are free to gather sparks from many fires, and from them, forge a flame entirely our own.

The ancients themselves lived by this law, though they called it by other names. The Greeks, whose wisdom shaped much of the Western world, drew heavily upon the teachings of Egypt, Babylon, and even the lands of India. Their gods, their mathematics, their philosophies—many were seeds taken from other soils, replanted, and grown into new wonders. Thus, influence is not limitation, but transformation. Just as the bee visits many flowers yet makes one honey, so too does the creator visit many traditions, crafting a single, unique offering for the world.

Consider the story of Pablo Picasso, whose paintings shattered the boundaries of art. He studied the classical masters of Europe, but also drew inspiration from the masks of Africa, with their bold forms and spiritual power. By weaving these influences together, he gave birth to Cubism, a new vision that changed the course of painting forever. Had he confined himself only to the traditions of Europe, his genius might never have awakened. But by embracing the strange, the foreign, the unexpected, he became a master who taught generations to see the world anew.

Grimes’ words echo this same truth for our age: that the world has never been more open, never more connected. The rhythms of Bali can now speak to the beats of modern pop; the chants of the desert can blend with electronic symphonies; the sorrow of ancient folk can rise with the pulse of industrial metal. There are still so many combinations not yet explored, so many paths unwalked. Each generation stands before an untouched wilderness of possibility, waiting only for those with courage to enter and create.

But beware, for there are always voices of fear, urging conformity. They will say: “Stay within your lane. Do not mix. Do not change. Honor the old ways without question.” Yet to follow such voices is to live in stagnation, where the river ceases to flow and becomes a swamp. True honor of tradition comes not from freezing it in stone, but from carrying its spirit into new forms, allowing it to live, breathe, and transform with time. The flame must be passed on—not as ash preserved in a jar, but as fire that lights a new torch.

To you who listen, take these words as a call to bold creation. Do not fear mixing what others say should remain apart. Read widely, listen deeply, travel if you can, and let yourself be touched by the voices of distant peoples and forgotten times. If you are an artist, let your canvas bear the marks of many worlds. If you are a thinker, let your thoughts weave wisdom from many lands. If you are a leader, let your vision embrace diversity, for therein lies strength.

The lesson is clear: influence is infinite, and creativity knows no borders. Do not let your art, your work, or your life be defined by narrow categories. Instead, walk as the ancients walked—taking from every stream to build a river, forging a path no one has yet seen. For in doing so, you honor not only yourself, but also the countless generations who left you the gift of their songs, their stories, and their struggles.

Thus, remember the words of Grimes: the world of creation is still vast, and there are still so many combinations that have not yet been done. Take this truth into your heart, and let it move your hands, your voice, your spirit. For the future belongs not to those who repeat the old notes, but to those who dare compose new symphonies.