There was a time when I barely existed online.
Before I went public with my music, all I had was an almost ghost Facebook account.
When I first started releasing music, I was not sure I was ready to reveal who I was, because the idea of being visible felt uncomfortable. I have definitely come a long way since then.
Getting out of my comfort zone has been something Iβve consciously practiced for many years now. It became with time part of my identity. Maybe one day Iβll tell the full story behind why that became such an important personal rule.
When Spacey Panda started growing, stepping into visibility felt aligned with that principle and I decided that social media would become part of the journey.
I showed up, connected, and supported people. I gave my energy fully.
Does that mean everyone should do the same? Not necessarily. It depends on what feels true to you. Some purists might argue that showing our face changes the relationship people have with our music and can even influence the way our art is perceived.
For me, in a world now filled with AI-generated content, I felt compelled to strengthen human connection. Because to me, art and music go beyond the craft itself.
And what came out of that surprised me.
Revealing who I was brought friendships I never expected. Collaborations that felt surreal. Opportunities that once seemed completely out of reach and experiences that reshaped my horizons.
But hereβs the part I didnβt see coming: because I wasnβt someone who grew up constantly online, I didnβt have a built-in relationship with digital saturation. And over the last three years, something quietly crept in: an increased difficulty to focus.
Meditation has been part of my life for several years. It grounds me and it regulates my nervous system. It helps me reconnect to something quieter and more stable inside.
Recently though, I started struggling with it. Sitting still felt harder. My thoughts felt louder, restless and fragmented. I couldnβt drop into the same depth as before. It was a signal that something was off, but I couldnβt quite identify what had changed.
Being the nerd that I am, I decided to do some research on the brain, and that research led me more specifically to the prefrontal cortex.
The prefrontal cortex is the region right behind your forehead. Itβs responsible for executive functions, decision-making, impulse control, long-term thinking and ustained attention. Itβs essentially the conductor of the brainβs orchestra.
Meditation strengthens this area over time. Brain imaging studies show increased activation and even structural adaptations in regions linked to attention regulation and emotional control in consistent meditators. In simple terms, meditation trains your brain to pause instead of react.
But modern digital environments train something else.
Social platforms operate on intermittent rewards and unpredictable feedback. Sometimes thereβs a notification. Sometimes there isnβt. That unpredictability activates the dopamine system most strongly. Dopamine isnβt pleasure itself, itβs anticipation. It motivates you to check.
Frequent micro-spikes of anticipation train the brain toward novelty detection and rapid attention shifts. The more you repeat that loop, the stronger it becomes. Neuroplasticity doesnβt judge. It simply strengthens whatever you practice most often.
Suddenly my meditation struggle made sense. I hadnβt lost depth, instead, I had been training my brain in a different direction.
One system strengthens stillness and sustained focus. The other reinforces scanning and micro-rewards. Both are adaptive and have their purposes, but balance matters.
Research also shows that constant high-frequency digital stimulation can reduce sustained attention and increase cognitive fragmentation. Quiet starts to feel uncomfortable because the brain expects input. Silence feels incomplete.
And yet, creativity requires that silence.
When we reduce constant input, the brainβs default mode network becomes more active. Thatβs the network associated with self-reflection, imagination, and meaning-making. It activates when we daydream, when we walk, when we sit without consuming.
Thatβs where my best ideas are born.
I wouldnβt go back to living under a rock. That earlier version of me was safe, but also did miss on so many good things life can offer. Visibility taught me courage, community and expansion.
But I also donβt want to live in a constant state of digital activation, so now Iβm learning something new: balance.
Iβm starting to picture what that balance looks like for me, because this is different for every person. I will begin with more intentional breaks and clear boundaries. For example, creative sessions where my phone isnβt in the same room. I think that small shifts can go a long way. Iβm not fully there yet and I might need some recalibration from time to time, but now I understand the mechanics better.
And when you understand the mechanics, you regain choice.
I donβt want to disconnect from people, but I want to reconnect to a slower rythm, because for me, creativity doesnβt thrive in constant stimulation.
Maybe after years of stepping out of my comfort zone, the next evolution isnβt about going further outward, but maybe itβs about mastering when to come back inward.
Not to hide, but to hear my own frequency clearly again.
β Spacey Panda π
I did create this track in a moment where I wanted to regain some focus:
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