The Creative Life — with Jim Kroft

Hi, guys. So I had a bit of a meltdown in my last video.
I'd hit a wall with my creative project, which is this album, Chromatic Zero, that I started writing and recording last year. And just at the point where I started getting into the rhythm, into the groove of it, I hit this wall of resistance and it was really hard to take. It was really hard to unpack.

And the strange thing is that right at the point where everything started breaking out of me, when I recorded the last video, I thought I was having a sort of breakdown of sorts. But actually, looking back on it, I realised that something was breaking out of me. And I’ve had this huge phase of reorientation. Everything's been reorienting around a centre, and so much has been shifting since then.

So today I wanted to take you through what's been going on in the last weeks, especially for anyone who is in a big period of creative challenge or resistance.

Because having gone through this three-month period, I realised now that something very, very important was happening — and that a lot of the things I was fearing during that process were necessary for me to centralise my energy, my efforts, my endeavour, and also the project itself, but also to allow the love of what I want — and what I love doing — to break out anew.

So I'm going to take you through what happened, what's shifting, and also what you can expect here, because it's going to mean some changes on this YouTube channel.

The first point is the pain point I was going through: all the different identities of what I was doing — my work as a freelance filmmaker, photographer, responsibilities, life, the aspect of me that is an artist, a musician, a purist, old-fashioned artist who likes to make albums and make documentaries — was feeling squeezed. And in particular, by this modern need to build our audiences.

Like many musicians at this point in time, there's no record label, there's no outside support. A lot of creatives go through these periods. I’ve been through many periods. I've had other times where I did have that support. But in the pursuit of trying to communicate more online, I felt that something very central at my core was beginning to dissipate. And this was something I really had to look at and address.

Not because I've not been enjoying these aspects. I’m talking particularly about my newsletter on Substack — The Creative Life — which I send out every week and love. Same with my podcast, same name. And this YouTube channel. But the problem was: I was becoming so dissipated by all this long-form content that the actual purpose of the content had become its own purpose.

The communication of the dream had taken away from the actuality of pursuing the dream.
And I was becoming dispersed. And because I like ideas and truly enjoy figuring out these channels, and making the friendships and relationships that come through sharing your work… this long-form content can take you so far away from the central core.

At the heart of whatever we're endeavouring to do, the problem so many content creators face is: you get lost in the content. You get lost in the audience-building. And you stop concentrating on the thing itself. And if you're always pursuing the audience, you drift away from the thing that brought you here in the first place — the love of making something, of creating something, of developing the skills that take what you do to the next level.

And I know this is a pain point many feel. It's a real tension — even a war — within me: between the artist and musician, the purist, and the content creator engaging with the platforms.

During these three months, I was doing quite well with the content. I was enjoying the YouTube videos. I was fired up by Casey Neistat, bought the DJI Nano, made a bunch of videos — some I haven’t even edited yet. But the time was sucking me away.
My freelance work was sucking me away.
Suddenly, I was doing no practice.

And I knew it was happening. And it was niggling at me, scratching at me like a little demon. And the longer I didn’t play any music at all, the more this well, this block, this resistance started building until eventually I allowed it to come out. And as it was coming out, I recorded that video last week. It was a curious experience, but I’m glad I did because I want to mark the journey.

So today I've got three areas I'm going into:

The dip — which I’ve already mentioned.

The rediscovery of my musical heart — cool stuff is happening.

The concrete moves I'm making.

I’ll tell you a bit about each, the learning from each, and also the part I hope might help someone out there going through it.

The first thing: I realised I was being pulled away by too many side quests. Too many directions. And this dissipates the core thing. With content creation, you can fall in love with that aspect itself, but consistently creating good ideas, shaping them, expressing them in ways that impact another person — that’s real work.
And it’s not to undervalue it. I love going into those ideas. But it’s not the thing itself. It’s an expression of what you’re doing in your life.

And if you’re pursuing all these side quests, the consequence is simple: the core love gets diminished. Too much energy, effort, and most importantly time is going elsewhere. And the consequence is that what you love most gets pushed to the margins.

That’s what was happening with me. I was marginalising myself through my own endeavours.

Audience building is real — we need audiences now, especially without labels or external support. But if the building overtakes the work itself, then you end up with no time to actually make the thing.
It’s bizarre, but it’s true.

These weekly repeaters — YouTube, Substack, podcasts — they’re wonderful. Valuable. But they get lost in the content tsunami. One key realisation for me was:
I need to reconfigure myself around my legacy work.

The albums, the documentaries.
The works that matter.
And particularly, I want to fuse the two — which is becoming a whole new realisation. I want to create a documentary around this new album, Chromatic Zero.

This breakdown forced a reckoning.
It made me realise the stuckness wasn’t laziness.
You get this idea of being lazy — like you “just can’t get down to it” — but sometimes you’re in a state of misalignment.
The central aim gets fractured.
You have to redirect yourself.

And during that meltdown, I had to face the hard reality that I wasn’t doing the thing itself. But I understand now that there was meaning behind that — a subconscious purpose. That’s where I’ve arrived.

My takeaway on the dip:
If you’re in resistance, it’s easy to try to force your way out. I tried that. But forcing doesn’t always work. Sometimes you need to let the message inside the stuckness catch up with you. Let it land. Let it break down into the basement of your being. Reconnect the mind and the heart.

That’s what was happening.
The tears came from pain at first, then from release.
There was something renewing happening.
And I didn’t know it at the time, but it led me back to the work — and more importantly, back to the love of the work.

How do you reconnect to the why?
You write down one simple sentence about your life driver.
What are you actually working on?

And look — if your driver is a YouTube channel, fantastic. Same with a podcast, a newsletter. But if those are expressions of something deeper, then the deeper thing must come first.

Get the core thing sorted first, and let everything else flow downstream.

I’ve resisted that so hard. But I get it now.
I've reached the core of what I'm trying to do, and I feel excited.

You open the door out of the dip by making a tiny move.
For me, it was sitting at the piano.
Letting myself cry.
Letting it out.

The second point: reconnecting to the love.

There was a moment — I broke off the resistance. Through that breaking, I reconnected emotionally. I think my ego had taken over. I was trying to prove to myself that I could still do it, and it was killing the love of the music itself.

I was fighting getting older, fighting the fact I didn’t have a record deal, fighting the feeling that my older audience had moved on. And then the thoughts come:

“You're making no money from music.”
“How can you be so stupid?”
“Are you playing Peter Pan?”

But I realised: it’s not about that.
It’s about what keeps you alive.
What stays with you through life.

You see people — classical pianists, musicians — who stop playing, and something in them dims. Because they feel they could’ve been better, or they’ve lost the thread.

That was happening in me.
“Will I ever get back to where I was?”
And then the realisation:
I don’t want to be where I was.
I want to be better.

If I’m in my mid-40s now, and I’m blessed with many years, then getting going again means I could become better than I’ve ever been.

Resistance makes you feel finished.
Like the world has moved on without you.
But it’s not true.
You're still in the game.
Your trial is simply different now.

Let go of the shame.
Let go of “not good enough.”
The trial is part of the dream.
The dream moves from potential into actuality.

Everything is born with thunder, with hurt, with dynamism — and sometimes resistance is part of that birth.

This was the biggest challenge I’ve faced since starting the album in early 2024.
Feeling like I'd lost the thread and might never get it back.
But it was just another hurdle.

So if you're in resistance, take the pressure off.
Return to the love.
Let it come out.

You won’t break through by force.
You break through by allowing what’s already in you to surface.

My practical takeaway:
Once you realise what you most want — and write it down — you must start every day with it.

That was my problem.
I’d wake up and go straight into client work, or editing, or Substack, or the podcast. A million side quests.
And the core thing — the thing I most want to express in the world — was left behind.

Everything is about that voice inside you.
What is it saying?
And what is the form through which it wants to express itself?

Realise it.
Write it down.
Put it at the centre.
And begin the day with it.

If you need to make sacrifices, that’s reality.
I’ve been off alcohol for three months.
I was already shaping the thought:
“What can I let go of so I can get serious about my one life?”

In the last two weeks, I’ve been starting with music again.
More powerful, more focused, more excited, bolder, humbler — more everything — than I've ever been.
We’ll go into that in the future.

You’ve got to start the day with it.
If it means getting up earlier, so be it.
If it means cutting the morning routine, so be it.

Prioritise the priority.

The third point: concrete moves.

After that moment, something shifted.
I needed to get back to the doing.

So here’s the story of what’s happened since:

I reached out to my old booking agent — who retired.
I told him I hadn’t written to anyone else — he was my first port of call.
And he wrote back.
So I have a booking agent again.
We’re working on a tour for next year.
A huge breakthrough.

Second:
I realised releasing on Spotify alone undervalued the project.
I need vinyl.
So I reached out to a collage artist. We tried working together for two weeks — amazing artist — but it didn’t work out.

And I realised:
“I need to do this myself.”

Everything about this album has been handmade.
Of my tissue and spirit.
Of the pain of overcoming the block.
So I need to make the artwork myself.
That’s now on the list.

Other moves:
I’ve been radically subtracting.
No Instagram for months.
Stopped Patreon — which was hard — because if I can't give full value, I’m not taking money.

I wanted more space.

And from that space came the realisation:
I want to be honest, naked, brave again about my music.

Even when posting on Instagram, YouTube, the podcast — I wasn’t putting the music first. I was talking about the journey, not sharing the work.

I want to return to the artist.
To the core.
“Can I play a damn song?”
That was the question.

So I’m taking it song by song.
Back to the heart of it.

My takeaway:
What can you subtract?
What can you remove?
Which platform eats 45 minutes every morning and could go into your real work?
Which habit isn't serving you?

Creativity is supercharged by space.

You need courage in a world piling demands on every side.
In Berlin especially, it’s so easy to drift — to do three jobs because you can — but suddenly three months have passed and you haven’t touched your core work.

Subtract.
Say no.
Make space.

Once you subtract, you can build a new system.
I’ll talk about this more in the future.

I’m talking directly to camera in this video, no editing, because I want to find a way of making YouTube from the art, from the music, from direct communication.

More specific.
More detailed.
More through the work itself.

A few conclusions:

First: Music is coming first now.
It excites me, scares me, and unnerves me — which means it’s right.

Second: The potential needs to become actual.
I’m committing: get the record made, get it out.
And: play live again.

That realisation came from the love breaking out.

Third: If you’re in resistance, if you’ve lost the thread — losing the thread doesn’t mean it's lost.
You will lose the thread.
You will hurt.
But the breakthrough returns you to the real thing.

We all have the chance for renewal.
The living potential remains.

You shed old skin — the snake symbol — because the old skin becomes too heavy.
Transformation is raw and real.
The new skin feels life again.

For YouTube and the podcast:
Everything is now orbiting around music.
Doesn’t replace YouTube — but music is the centre.
I want to develop this area of my life, be brave, lean into the pain points, become a new version of myself.
Not the old one.
Not the current one.
But the one I can become.

There’s a quote:
“Formation. Transformation. Eternal mind’s eternal recreation.”
We are all in movement from birth to death.
We’re not fixed.

As long as the heart beats, there is potential.

Please remember that.

As Hesse said, all the million pieces of life’s game are in your pocket — and it’s time to take them out and play a new hand.

A final thought:
If you lose the path, don’t push harder.
Readjust the direction.
Not to something new — but back to yourself.

One small step.
Write it down.
Reconnect to what’s most true.
Extract a couple of things.
Then double down.

You’ve got a lot to give.
And now it’s time to give it.

Much love, everyone.
Haven’t even finished my cup of tea.
That last minute… hammering.
Too much.

Oh — and if you’d like to leave a comment, I’d appreciate it.
If you’re on the podcast, please rate and review.
And if you share it with someone who might need it — that’s the best way to support this channel.

Much love to you all.
Bye.