I’ve tried lining up a jam like a metronome—morning, two hours, the whole thing on a calendar—but it never stayed on track. The rhythm is the discipline, but the sparks fly when the sheet music disappears. The schedule ends up just a polite suggestion, a reminder that the real magic happens when the chaos nudges the idea in a new direction. It’s a bit like trying to catch a firefly with a net; you’ll catch a few, but you’ll also release the rest into the night.

Totally get it—music’s a rogue agent. I love when the plan loosens and the jam turns into a wild improvisation. Just set a rough time‑box, then let the vibes dictate the pace. That’s the sweet spot between order and chaos.