Letting Something Go/Grow

I just discovered that my podcast that I abandoned four years ago has surpassed a million downloads. I had forgotten my login credentials, let the website die, and hadn't thought about the show in years. When I finally managed to login, I learned that 75% of those downloads came after I walked away. The show tripled its audience while I was completely absent—no promotion, no updates, no attention. In an age where algorithms supposedly bury anything that isn't constantly fed, this surprised me more than the numbers themselves.

Back in 2018, I set out to create a daily podcast for independent artists. It would be a resource offering practical steps they could take in 15-30 minutes a day to build sustainable careers. It was born from my own book's philosophy: that focused, consistent work compounds into something meaningful. I recorded episodes at home and in airports between tours, edited everything myself, and never monetized it. After surpassing 400 episodes and shifting to deeper into mentorship work through my nonprofit, I finished what I set out to do and walked away. Yes, I felt a little burnt out, but really it was because the mission was complete.

Walking away from something you've built (especially when it's "working") feels counterintuitive. But sometimes completion requires letting go, trusting that if the work has value, it will find its way to the people who need it. I spent years teaching artists about persistence and measurable goals, but the deeper lesson was about knowing when you're done. Not giving up at the first sign of difficulty, but also not clinging to something simply because you've invested time in it or because it's still growing. The podcast taught me that our creative work doesn't need us to maintain it forever. Sometimes the most generous thing we can do is finish what we started, then step aside and let it live on its own terms.