Imagine it’s your birthday party. 

It’s the start of the night. You and your closest friends are there. It’s great, but you’re hoping more people will come. Your mind races with the list of all the people who haven’t shown up yet.

As the minutes pass and the people you hoped would come don’t arrive, your stress levels increase. Sure, your best friends are here, but maybe you’re actually less popular than you thought? You become heavy with an inner dread.

Eventually more people start to arrive. Then lots more. Everyone comes! Your dream fulfilled. 

But suddenly the party becomes overwhelming. You’re now a full-time host. It feels like work. You’re not having deep conversations anymore. The party has become too much.

This is what success is like.

Our projects start small. Just us and a few true believers. As people trickle in we appreciate them, but just as much we’re hoping for more. Then, finally, it happens: everyone shows up. And suddenly it becomes overwhelming. You hardly have time to think, much less enjoy yourself. 

Success is a double-edged sword. It’s the thing we work hard for, but experiencing it isn’t everything we think it will be. It tends to make us more protective and conservative. It can distance us from our core fans and supporters. It can lead to feelings of obligation and forced performance. It can make it harder to be free. 

When we look back later on, it’s the beginnings when we were striving to make it that we miss most, not the grand crowning moments. Despite this, we rush to move past our early smallness, believing that being big will deliver the celebration we crave. It can, but we lose something too. 

Kurt Cobain once reminisced that if he could do it all over again, he would go back to those moments before they became big. When they were touring in a van and they could feel things starting to happen for them. That was the most gratifying moment in his memory. If he had his choice, they would have stayed there forever.

Believe him. Celebrate smallness. Don’t rush past it too quickly. Embrace it. Relish it as a beautiful moment that we can only hold onto for so long.

Small is more meaningful than big.

This essay is excerpted from a new release from the Metalabel squad, called Nine Creative Meditations. Collect a copy and pay what you want at the link.