What I've Learned About From Years of Being an Artist, Dad, and Entrepreneur… All at Once

Hi, I'm Malte Marten. In this blog post, I want to share something more personal than usual. After a recent conversation with my friend and colleague Chris about the nervous system and how it has shaped the last years of my life, I felt it was time to put some of these reflections into writing. This is for everyone in our community who has ever felt out of balance while everything on the outside seemed to be going well.

Why I'm Writing About This

For a long time, I didn't even know what the nervous system was. It was a term I kept hearing in our community, "nervous system here, nervous system there," and I couldn't really place it. But I noticed something else very clearly: I was completely dysregulated, and I couldn't get a grip on it.

What you see online is one side of me. A handpan on my lap, soft light, breath, presence. What you don't see is what often happened around those videos: a private life that looked very different. Tension, exhaustion, days where I couldn't really meet myself or the people I love.

This is the story of how I got there, what changed, and the practices that genuinely brought me back.

A Quick Note on the Nervous System

Before I share, here is a simple frame that Chris defined during our conversation and that will help us to have the same understanding of the nervous system.

Our nervous system has two modes. A gas pedal called the sympathetic nervous system, which activates when we feel pressure or danger. And a brake called the parasympathetic nervous system, which is responsible for rest, digestion, sleep, and recovery.

Both are essential. The problem starts when we live with the gas pedal pressed down for too long without noticing. Over time, that constant alarm state can lead to anxiety, high blood pressure, a weakened immune system, and chronic inflammation.

This is what happened to me, and for years I didn't have a name for it.

1. A Decade of Just Keeping Going

My nervous system didn't just suddenly fall apart. It was a slow build-up, over years.

In 2014 I was already playing on the streets of Berlin every day. Almost obsessively. The handpan felt like a part of my body. I even took it with me just going to the grocery store downstairs. Back then I was almost only playing in front of people from the very beginning.

I met Alex, my former playing partner. We founded Yatao, our handpan duo, and a whole new chapter was starting. Besides becoming a full-time street musician, I also became a father for the first time, at the same time. No adjustment period, no gentle transition. The handpan was all I had and I knew that it had the potential to feed my family too. This was a lot of pressure, but I also had Alex, who shared the same vision as me: becoming a handpan artist.

With our duo we had something special: a creative symbiosis that both grounded us and carried us forward. With Alex I had someone who carried our handpan project together with me. When things got to be too much, Alex was there, to talk, to vent, or sometimes just to be present.

For years, we just went for it. We did concert tours with almost 30 concerts in a row, all managed by ourselves. After a tour was finished, there was no time to pause. When I was home, I was a father again straight away and had to be fully present for my son. This went on for years as our project kept growing. It was hard, but I managed it somehow, knowing that I had support at my back.

In 2021, our duo Yatao broke up, and with it, that safety net disappeared. Suddenly I was carrying everything alone again, only now life was challenging me once more. I was about to become a father for the second time, while having to build my solo career from scratch. And so I did the only thing I could do: I just kept going.

Whatever needed to be done, got done. Even without energy. Even without desire. Every day I pushed forward and I could feel myself getting completely burned out. But I just couldn't stop. My body and my mind were starting to send me signals, until I could no longer ignore them. In the meantime I could see my work paying off, but at what price?

2. When Instagram Exploded And My Company Grew

Then came the hypes. Instagram, YouTube, then both at once. Messages from artists I had grown up admiring. Suddenly a million followers. Collaboration requests every day.

Here is something I want to be honest about: Instagram itself didn't really change my life. Numbers on a screen are still just numbers. What changed my life was when those numbers translated into real, physical reality. More streams on Spotify and it was such a lucky shot, that at the time I went viral I recorded my first own online course that my community could actually buy. With this project a new level in my career unlocked. I had a full team that was working for me and everything was more successful than ever.

But there was also a pain underneath the success. From the outside, everyone treated me as if my life had transformed. From the inside, I noticed that nothing essential had changed. I wasn't happier. If anything, I was even more disconnected to myself and the size of the company was a heavy thing to carry all by myself.

What I didn't expect was that this kind of success also comes with a strange downside. When you share your life with millions of people online, you forget that the people in your own village are watching too. The boundary between the world you share and the world you actually live in starts to blur, and that tension is something nobody really prepares you for.

There is a strange feeling that comes with being recognized in public places. People approach you, project something onto you, and you feel like you owe them something. I had seen other artists and public figures navigate fame before and you think you understand it. But you never really know what it feels like until it is your own life.

3. The Turning Point

The real wake-up call came later, after a big private change in my life and an entirely new dimension of responsibility.

I became a single dad.

This was the biggest change in my entire life and over the course of months, I watched myself become someone I didn't want to be. This phase of my life was filled with dysregulation, constant pressure, lack of sleep and lack of inner space. Whatever came at me felt like an attack. In so many situations, I was not the father I wanted to be, not the partner I wanted to be, not the friend I wanted to be.

And then there was a very quiet, very humbling realization.

For years, I had projected my happiness into the future. Once I reach this financial goal, I'll be okay. Once the project is built, I'll relax. Once I have everything in place, I'll finally feel fulfilled.

When I actually reached those goals, I had to face the truth: I was still exactly the same person. Still unfulfilled. Still imbalanced. Still running on empty.

That was the moment something shifted.

4. What I Actually Changed in My Life

Out of this intense phase of my life I learned quite a few things that I have since implemented. Not always consciously, but looking back I can see patterns that are worth sharing. I'm aware that my life looks different from many others, and I don't see myself as someone who has truly embodied all of this. There are times where I follow these things very consistently, and other times where I have to remind myself of them again.

We will never be perfect, and I really hope you can let go of the pressure when some days don't work out the way you would like them to.

My go-to Nervous System Regulation Tools and Strategies:

Phone on Do Not Disturb. Permanently

For more than a year now, my phone has been on Do Not Disturb. No notifications from anyone. The only exceptions are my alarm and the few people connected to my children. I decide when I read messages and when I reply. This sounds small, but it gave me back something I didn't even know I had lost: the ability to choose my own attention.

Sharing Responsibility, Not Carrying It Alone

The biggest game changer for me was realizing that I don't have to be the one in charge of every single thing. My team carries projects. My business runs even when I cannot. Knowing that the world will keep turning if I take a day off has given me an enormous amount of peace. If you are a creative person who has built something around your name, you might recognize this trap: feeling like everything depends on you being present, online, and available. It doesn't. And when you let other people genuinely take responsibility, you give them a gift, and you give yourself one too.

Knowing What's Actually Important

What stresses me most is when I don't know what is actually relevant. When my to-do list isn't clear. When everything feels equally urgent. The truth is, most of it isn't. There are very few things in any given day that truly matter. Learning to see the difference is a practice in itself.

Practices That Help, Not Practices That Hurt

This one was a hard pill to swallow. I have always been someone with practices. Training, time outside, conscious phone use. But I noticed that sometimes my training was actually adding stress, not releasing it. If it became another thing on the list to check off, I was more wound up afterward than before. Now I check in. If I'm exhausted and forcing myself through a workout will leave me worse off, I rest instead. The practice is not the practice. The practice is the awareness behind the practice.

5. Gratitude as a Real, Daily Practice

I want to close with something that has become central for me, even though it took me a long time to take it seriously: gratitude.

From a neuroscience perspective, gratitude is not soft. When we feel gratitude, the brain activates the reward system and releases dopamine. Practiced regularly, it lowers cortisol, the stress hormone, and improves heart rate variability, a key marker of nervous system health. Over time, the nervous system learns to find its way back to a state of safety more easily.

For me, gratitude goes even deeper. It connects me to something larger than my own to-do list. It pulls me out of the center of my own story and reminds me that I am not the one making everything happen. There is a flow I am part of. I am a channel, not a source.

When I land in gratitude, the same situation that felt overwhelming a moment ago suddenly feels different. Nothing on the outside has changed, but my whole experience of it has. From a nervous system perspective, this makes complete sense. When I feel held, protected, and connected, my system reads safety, and it regulates.

This is not a one-time insight. It is a daily practice. Some days I forget. Some days I remember. The practice is to keep coming back.

Closing Words

If you take one thing from this, let it be this: the inner world and the outer world can look completely different. Success on the outside doesn't automatically translate into peace on the inside. And the absence of external success doesn't mean you are on the wrong path.

What matters, in my experience, is staying connected to something bigger than the next goal. For me, that is gratitude, music, family, and the trust that I am being guided even when the road is hard.

There can be phases of unhappiness. There can be years of struggle. That doesn't mean something is wrong. It might just mean that you are walking your path. And if you keep listening, the next step usually shows itself.

Thank you for being part of this community. For listening. For meeting me here.

Sending much love your way.

Malte

Frequently Asked Questions

Your autonomic nervous system has two modes: the sympathetic (gas pedal) for action and stress, and the parasympathetic (brake) for rest and recovery. Both are necessary. Problems arise when we live in the activated state for too long without enough recovery.
Common signs include trouble sleeping, feeling constantly on edge, overreacting to small things, exhaustion that doesn't go away with rest, and feeling like you have no buffer between yourself and whatever life brings. If you recognize yourself here, you are not alone.
Many people experience the handpan as deeply calming. The harmonic structure and the rhythm of playing can support a shift into the parasympathetic state. But like any practice, it works best when approached without pressure. Playing because you "should" can defeat the purpose.
Small things first. Notifications off. Permission to rest. One practice that genuinely helps you, not five that you force yourself through. And, if it feels right, gratitude as a daily moment, not as a performance.

NERVOUS SYSTEM REGULATION