Before MOOD, I was a minimalist. (Patreon)

Now that the MOOD MKII is out, I've been thinking about it a lot, because MOOD was the very first pedal purchase that was all my own. Back in 2019, I was sharing Russ’s small collection of EQD pedals, and although I loved them, I craved something MORE. I distinctly remember laying poolside that summer, squinting at my phone in the sun, debating whether I was ready to drop over $350 on a device I really knew nothing about, other than that Knobs made it sound amazing. I was at a public pool laying out on one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs, the ones that stick to your skin and leave lines, and kids were screaming and laughing in the background as I pressed the 'checkout' button. That was just the beginning.

For a long time, my bedroom consisted of my bed, a side table, a lamp, a plant, and a small rug to cover a portion of the cold wooden floor. In my closet, there were 3 pairs of shoes, year-round: one pair of flats for harp gigs, one pair of Everlane leather boots that I got repaired and shined up at the cobbler every year, and one pair of sandals for summer. My entire wardrobe was either black or dark blue, and using the word 'entire' feels a little wrong, because it didn’t encompass that much — I had a maximum of 20 clothes hangers full of clothes. This minimalist lifestyle didn't happen overnight, but I can truthfully say that by the time 2019 rolled around, I had perfected the "art" of being a minimalist.

And then pedals came into my life.

How did minimalism start out for me? The first time I moved out of my parents house, I realized that I didn't have that much stuff to bring with me to my new apartment. The main things were my harps, my clothes, and some miscellaneous stuff like books and tax documents. My rule was, when I brought something new into my room, I would have to bring something out. So if I came home with a 'new' (thrifted) outfit, an outfit I already owned would have to be donated to make space.

My minimalist lifestyle naturally came about because a few things: a desire to live a frugal life, to be happy and confident with the things I already owned, a desire to simplify, and a desire to focus on the important things rather than material goods. The hardest thing for me was parting ways with my favorite books. I had worked as a cashier in a bookstore for a time, and buying books with my 30% employee discount was one of my favorite things to do. I thought about this a lot, and I wondered why I had so much trouble donating my books. I always kept them around in the hopes that someone would ask for a good book recommendation, and I'd be able to share my passions with somebody (you've never read The Sandman?!? omg here borrow my collector's edition box set of all 10 volumes!! wait you've never even heard of 'A Fine Balance'?! I have a copy you can hold on to!!! I know it's over 600+ pages but I promise it's totally worth it!!)

But guess what? Nobody ever asked to borrow my books. Even when I proudly boasted the 'official' title of BOOKSELLER, rarely did the customers ask me for book recommendations. Instead, they would ask, "Where are the light summer beach reads?" (no judgement!). Most people didn't want to read John Hersey's book from 1946. I had already read and re-read the books I owned multiple times, so at a certain point, they began to just sit there and collect dust. They weren't useful to me anymore. When I had my own apartment, I bought and built a giant bookcase to house all my treasured paperbacks. But no one ever really visited me there, and I was holding onto all these books with a "fantasy" (kind of a strong word here, but that's what it was) that someone would come over and peruse my collection, applauding the titles I owned, sharing interests.

I was holding onto all these material things in the hopes that a very specific situation would happen. I think we hold onto a lot of material things for that reason. When I finally donated all my books in various Free Little Libraries around Long Island, I felt much better, knowing someone would find them there and (hopefully) appreciate them. Either that, or they would sell them for extra cash. And if you're the kind of person going around to Free Little Libraries gathering the books up to sell them online, then you definitely need the cash, and I totally understand that and am still happy you're getting what you need!

Truth be told, I don't even remember most of the books I donated. I tied my identity to those books for so long; and I think that's an easy trap to fall into. Our possessions start to posses us. And I know this might sound weird coming from someone who owns over 100 effect pedals and various music gear, but it wasn't always like this for me.

I think the fact that I share my studio with Russ definitely helps, because it's not only me who owns this stuff, it's split 50/50 with my partner. Or maybe I'm just telling myself that in order to feel better, lmao. I think Russ is also secretly a minimalist -- he won't say he is, but his wardrobe isn't stuffed with clothes, he doesn't collect or covet anything, and he is very selective about which new pedals we agree to take on. He texted me earlier today and said that the average American spends $133 a month on clothing. I can't even remember the last time he bought any kind of apparel.

I'm not going to say that I don't ever want to buy certain things. Everyone does. I'm not immune to marketing tactics, but I'm getting better and better at recognizing them. Since the first week of March, I've been prioritizing my health more, working out at least 3x/week. Of COURSE I would love to buy new cute workout clothes, or new running sneakers, or a FitBit™️, or those special water bottles that tell you how many ounces of water you've drank that day. All I've bought since starting my "fitness journey" is a BlenderBottle from Marshall's for $5 (it was Boba Fett themed, which was... a really weird theme for a workout bottle... but also probably the reason it was on sale) so I could blend my protein on the go, and a pair of secondhand workout pants from Goodwill for $6 because I only had one pair and didn't want to do laundry twice as often.

I guess I'm just writing about all of this here because it's been a really weird lifestyle change for me, taking on and demoing all this music gear. It all feels like it happened so fast, while at the same time, feeling like it happened gradually enough to fly under my radar and not allow me to consciously think about this major change happening. Now, my closet is stuffed with various outfits that I can wear for videos, because my "fashion sense" (or what semblance of that I actually do have, lmao) is being more heavily scrutinized on media. I also needed specific outfits for the Universal Audio photoshoot back in February, which I had to do on my own because I wasn't allowed to talk about the fact that the shoot was even happening (NDA).

I have to tell you, wandering around the Roosevelt Field Mall that day was something I'm never going to forget. Before that, I had never experienced the feeling of walking into a name-brand store like Adidas and just... buying a pair of brand new sneakers... I didn't even check prices on the things I had to buy for the shoot. I kept telling myself, "these clothes are for a media shoot, in LA, you can't look like you shop at thrift stores!"

... Ironically enough, I learned later that Yvette Young gets a lot of her pieces from thrift stores. Never let anything dissuade you from shopping secondhand, because the reality is, most people won't be able to tell.

So now, with a closet (that was once pretty empty) now stuffed with pedal boxes, a wardrobe that is at over 2x the size of what it was before, how am I still trying to adapt to my once-extremely-minimalist lifestyle? Well, I forgot to mention that along with the "miscellaneous" things in my apartment back in the day, I also had literal BUCKETS of sheet music that my late harp instructor had given me in 2012 before she passed. I was always so attached to all that music, even though -- honestly -- I never played a single arrangement. She had written most of the music out by hand on yellowing, crinkled paper, and her notes were so small, and the arrangements so complex. I imagine that her arrangements were structured in a way similar to mine; I hardly ever fully notate my arrangements out perfectly 100% every time. I have played my pieces enough to know the nuances of them, and the liberties I take when reading the music. So I finally took photos of many arrangements, and donated them to a music library where they would (again, hopefully) be used more often than they were being used at my place.

For the beginner music books, she left me a lot of them in the hopes that they would be useful once I began teaching. With minimalism, you have to be very honest with yourself, and you need to know yourself. I'm now 30 years old, and I have never taken on a *serious* harp student before. Given my hectic schedule that literally changes every single week, and with all the stories my harp-friend-teachers have told me, I don't think teaching, at least in the traditional sense of "you-come-to-my-studio-and-I-give-you-a-lesson", is the right path for me. It took me a long time to accept that. I would love to do instructional Zoom-like meetings about pedals and music tech, but teaching scales to a fidgeting 9-year old who doesn't even want to be there while their parents micro-manage everything doesn't seem like much fun to me.

Also, being a teacher is a HUGELY important job. My harp teacher was incredible. I don't think I could do teaching justice; I'd be too afraid to make a mistake, or to say the wrong thing, or to give the wrong advice. Growing up, I had the WORST piano teacher who clearly only gave lessons for the monetary value. She never corrected me, never taught me about dynamics or the emotion you put into the music. She legitimately took a highlighter, marked off 16 bars, and said "great practice these for next week" and it didn't matter how terribly I bumbled through the last assignment. She's the reason I rarely play piano, even though I took lessons for over 10 years. When I finally stopped taking lessons, I went to her house, gave her a gift, and thanked her for all the time she spent with me. And you know what she said? "Good luck, you'll never get anywhere with an instrument like the harp." 😐

I don't know how this post turned into whatever it is right now, but I'm just sitting in the Sweetwaters cafe after my TMJ appointment and decided it was a good time to get some words down on paper (and drink some amazing Iron Goddess Oolong Tea). I'm really sorry I haven't updated y'all in a bit. My mental health hasn't been super great lately, hence why we missed a few weeks of live-streaming, and I've been thinking a lot lately about this new lifestyle. I wouldn't change it, because I love what I do, but it's just such an interesting shift from being someone who spent more time in the library reading books about mindfulness with minimal time spent on their phone to someone who now spends over 6 hours a day looking at screens, carefully crafting media posts, and being someone who actually has a legitimate impact on others. The other day, I saw a video of a harpist using the Virtual Jeff Pro on her classical pedal harp. It made me really happy, but also reminded me that I have the potential to have a pretty significant impact on others. Just like me sitting out on that poolside chair 4 years ago, staring at the Chase Bliss website with my thumb hovering above the 'Place Order' button, this harpist, like me, took a risk and spent a few hundred dollars on a piece of gear that I made sound good. I'm not going to say that I'm as big or as important / marvelous as KNOBS, but I will say, I do see at least one similarity there, which is that I have the potential to have an impact on others. Unfortunately, that impact -- encouraging people to buy MORE -- directly goes against the lifestyle that I love, the one where you're encouraged to be content and at peace with everything you already have.

I think it's a pretty human thing to struggle with, especially in these wild, media-driven days, but at the end of the day, I get to do what I love, which is express myself through harp music. I get to showcase really cool gear, but more importantly, I get to showcase new sounds that people may not have known were possible to make before. I have an amazing community that I am so grateful for, and people who care about what I'm doing. The media side of what I do and what I post is a whole thing that I'm still doing my best to navigate, but I'm taking it day by day, and practicing mindfulness as often as I can.