There are days when creating feels easy. The ideas flow, the fingers cooperate, and the camera seems to catch the right moments.
This wasn’t one of those days.
I’d spent the whole day with my daughter — we went to the library and read books, played at the playground, ate pizza outside, and visited our favorite coffee truck, Twelve Twenty Coffee. By the time we got home, I folded three loads of laundry and felt… done.
Extroverted out. Depleted.
That little voice crept in: What will I even create today? And, honestly, Should I even bother?
The Email That Changed My Day
Then, an unexpected email landed in my inbox:
Hi Posido,
I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate the work you do on both your blog and your YouTube channel. I really enjoyed both your video and your article on drop 2 chords. I’ve been experimenting with them on my 6-string bass and having a blast! The major 6, minor 7th and major 7th are so easy to play that way!
Thank you for being so generous with your knowledge. Your bass playing is sublime and a huge inspiration to me. Your articles and videos are really helping me level up! I’m so grateful that there are people like you in the world who share their expertise.
I hope your day is full of magic and wonder!
Thanks again! You are making the world a better place!
I read it once… then again. Then again.
Something about it felt like hearing from a kindred spirit — especially because they mentioned drop 2 voicings.
Why Drop 2 Voicings Mean So Much to Me
Drop 2 voicings have a special place in my playing. Years ago, I developed tendonitis and had to find new ways to play that didn’t strain my hands and forearms. That’s when I stumbled on drop 2 shapes for myself.
On a bass — especially a 6-string — they sound lush, open, and almost orchestral. And they’re surprisingly ergonomic.
Not every bassist is into chords. So when someone tells me they’re experimenting with drop 2 voicings, it’s like they’re speaking my musical love language.
The Quiet Weight of Comparison
The truth is, I haven’t been posting as much the past few years. After losing both of my parents, I stepped back from social media. It was a deeply reflective, even quiet season.
These days, I’m easing back in, maybe posting once a month. Time and energy as a parent are limited — and when I do have them, I want to be present with my daughter.
Still, when I scroll through Instagram or YouTube and see other bass players or educators posting daily, that “why bother?” voice can get loud. Imposter syndrome creeps in: My content’s not good enough. Not charismatic enough. Not helpful enough.
I don’t want to quit. Teaching is in my bones. But comparison does make me pause and question how I spend my days.
How One Message Changed Everything
And that’s why this email hit so hard.
It reminded me of my why:
- To share my “ah-ha” moments with other musicians.
- To document my own journey as a self-taught player.
- To save someone else the time and frustration I went through when I was learning.
While there were musicians in my family as I grew up (like my mom and my brother Nucleo Vega), music was never really nurtured for me. My parents, for some reason, encouraged me to focus more on art. I couldn’t even sing a bass note when I started at 15. And when people told me to “just feel it,” it wasn’t helpful — it lacked empathy. I had to teach myself, slowly and stubbornly, and I want to make that road easier for someone else.
This email confirmed that even if I reach a few people, it still matters. It reminded me of the days I’ve inspired someone face-to-face — that same spark is still there, even through a screen.
A Note to Fellow Musicians & Creators
If you’ve been feeling behind, burnt out, or tempted to give up because others are producing more than you, remember this:
Your perspective is uniquely yours. Your voice, your experience, your way of explaining something — it will resonate with someone in a way no one else’s will.
That someone is your why.
And sometimes, all it takes is one heartfelt message to remember that.
So if there’s a musician, creator, or teacher who’s made a difference in your journey, tell them. Your words might be the spark that keeps them going.
To the person who sent me that email — thank you. You didn’t just make my day. You helped me remember why I show up.
