“But it’s not, but it’s not, but it’s not, but it’s not, but it’s not.”

Here Comes a Thought is anything but a bad song. I can’t think of any songs I dislike from this show, but if I did, Here Comes a Thought wouldn’t be one of them. It’s a simple and moving ode to calming down, and Estelle and AJ Michalka elevate its message through their otherworldly voices.

But I do think it’s the most technically flawed song on Steven Universe. Which is a real bummer of a way to start this review, but I’m about to heap a ton of praise on this episode, and I don’t think the lyrical flaws ruin the song, let alone the overall story, so let’s just get my issues out of the way. If Mindful Education is about anything, it’s about confronting problems head-on!

Here Comes a Thought is a general song about a general problem, which I appreciate. I don’t need it to be specific to Connie’s dilemma, and in fact I think specificity would hurt the message. But my biggest gripe is that even though it speaks in broad strokes, none of the scenarios listed apply to Connie. “What someone said, and how it harmed you”? Connie wasn’t hurt by words. “Something you did that failed to be charming”? Connie was making no attempt to be charming. “Things that you said are suddenly swarming”? Connie didn’t say anything. We’re all the way to the refrain, and Garnet has yet to address the actual situation Connie is dealing with.



The closest we’ve got is “failed to be charming,” which again, implies that Connie was trying to impress someone rather than just going about her business and hurting someone by instinct. The phrasing is clumsy in a way Rebecca Sugar’s songs virtually never are: what I love about her lyrics is how natural and effortless they seem, which I’m certain comes from quite a bit of effort on her part. The sentence structure of “Something you did that failed to be charming” feels strained and unnatural, but the words must be said in this order for the rhyme to work.

Which is doubly frustrating because the alarm/harm/charm series ends with swarm, which does not rhyme with the former three words in any dialect of English I know of. I’m not even a stickler for rhymes: for instance, “alarm me” and “charming” technically don’t rhyme either, but they sound similar enough that the pattern holds. But swarm uses an entirely different vowel than most other English words ending in -arm. I majored in linguistics and can get into serious weeds here with the International Phonetic Alphabet, but to make a long ramble shorter, the ‘w’ preceding the vowel alters it, which is why wart doesn’t rhyme with art and war doesn’t rhyme with bar and warn doesn’t rhyme with yarn and so on.

(This obviously doesn’t make Sugar a bad songwriter, any more than William Blake was a bad poet because he rhymed eye with symmetry in The Tyger. Nobody’s perfect, but that doesn’t mean nobody’s incredible.)

Anyway, I might be fine with this imperfect rhyme it if it was absolutely essential for the song, but the structure is so forced already to fit with this poor fourth rhyme that it sorta falls apart for me, especially because swarming comes at the moment it becomes clear that this song has said nothing about the issue Connie is personally dealing with.

Ugh. I’m losing sight. I’m losing touch. All these little things seem to matter so much that they confuse me. This song might lose me!

So yeah, I’m not insane enough to think that Here Comes a Thought was engineered to irk me just so the beautiful refrain can be a self-demonstrating affair in not letting small things like rhyme schemes get to me. But I’ll be damned if it doesn’t work. The song builds and builds and builds the stress by presenting bad situation after bad situation, and right when everything seems like it will fall apart, Garnet has the answer.

This is a highly quotable song and episode, so I had a lot of great lines to choose from for the header, but I don’t think anything matches the sheer relief that ironically comes from Garnet’s repeating a negative phrase. She usurps the power of “no” away from anxiety by chanting that no, nothing bad is going to happen. Her knowing smile on the last “but it’s not” seals the deal. She’s not just a teacher here, she’s a sage.

This is Estelle’s first full song on the show since Stronger Than You, and she pulls off subdued chill just as well as power anthem without losing an ounce of her commanding presence. But with all due respect to a world-class artist, she is fully matched here by AJ Michalka, another professional singer that doubles as a voice actor. Unlike Estelle, I knew Michalka sang but hadn’t listened to her music before watching Steven Universe, so her pipes came out of nowhere for me.

I honestly don’t know what it is about Michalka’s voice, but I’m lousy at crying even when I really want to because it would make me feel better, and that voice doesn’t just choke me up. It makes me weep. The quavering vulnerability in “I’m losing touch” destroys me no matter how many times I listen to this song. Just writing about it makes me emotional. Michalka tells a story not just with her words, but the tone and levels of confidence of her voice, and the lesson is learned by harmonizing with the master herself. On the one hand, I’m glad her voice’s heartbreaking purity isn’t diluted by constant performances, but on the other, I’m not sure it’s possible for something so intense to be diluted.

(My tendency to cry whenever Michalka sings might have to do with how well she’s primed on both occasions in the series: Estelle is a hell of a lead-in, while Escapism is introduced by a stirring callback to Greg’s guitar from Lion 3. But it’d be stupid not to credit the source, considering she’s the one that gets the waterworks going and she’s been spectacular at voicing Stevonnie from the start. It’s a damn shame Catra doesn’t get a song in She-Ra, but at least Michalka does a cover of the theme song.)

I haven’t even talked about the animation from Takafumi Hori, who gives a unique but familiar flair to the mindscape of Garnet and Stevonnie and their components. The facial animations and body language are given extra room to breathe, and the use of butterflies as symbols of fluttering stresses (butterflies in your brain are so much worse than butterflies in your stomach) pays off huge when we see them explode from Connie’s backpack. The unspoken story of Ruby focusing too hard on a single problem while Sapphire is overwhelmed by possibilities works wonders, and the fact that Connie’s problems are initially hidden hints at Steven also hiding problems, seeing as the kids are mirroring the Gems. Colin Howard and Jeff Liu would’ve been more than capable of crafting such a sequence, but bringing in a guest animator makes us pay special attention to this pivotal song.

Because yeah, this is an important song for Connie, but this is still Steven’s show, and it’s a huge song for Steven. In a brilliant development, it turns out his strangely normal behavior after the salvo of traumas at the end of Act II was intentionally strange, and Here Comes a Thought drags him kicking and screaming towards the true path to inner peace. You can’t, as he advises Connie right before Garnet steps in to help, “just try not to think about it.” The only way out is through, and it’s not gonna be easy.

Every fantastic aspect of Mindful Education benefits from fantastic pacing. Connie’s bad mood is established immediately, but so is Steven’s straining to be fun and upbeat. A series of questions pull us along: “What is Connie upset about?” becomes “How is Garnet going to help?” becomes “What is Steven upset about?” becomes “How is Connie going to help?” without missing a step. Both kids make us so worried, because Connie’s bad mood is out of nowhere, and Steven’s acceptance of his suffering is long overdue. Both sensations are heightened by the preceding episodes, as Steven has been acting way too okay with his mom being a killer, and we know Connie was enthusiastic about school in Buddy’s Book. So it’s such a relief to not only see their worries addressed, but to have an entire episode about addressing worries.

After three very goofy episodes—Know Your Fusion, despite tackling low self-esteem, is decidedly goofy—Mindful Education transitions us into a more serious mood with a similarly goofy opening. Sure, Connie’s attitude is cause for concern, but we still get Garnet’s enthusiasm and sign-making skills, Stevonnie’s newfound ability to do a Yoshi-style flutter kick hover, and the most glorious fusion dance ever depicted on screen.

Here Comes a Thought is a showstopper about calm meditation, and while it obviously soothes Connie’s anxieties, it also quiets down the silliness without making a big deal of it: there isn’t a single gag in the episode during or after the song. This is a show that can and has pulled off humor during dramatic moments, but we go full sincerity mode for Connie and Steven working through their emotional turmoil, and considering how big of a turning point this is for Steven’s arc in particular, I appreciate the restraint.

It’s perfect for Steven to only realize he has a problem when Connie is so open about hers, because Connie has always been a catalyst for change, and Steven is more concerned about others than himself. It also serves for a checkpoint for their mutual character growth: we’re a long way from the open-to-a-fault Steven and pragmatic-to-a-fault Connie of Bubble Buddies, and their series-long balancing act continues to bring their attitudes closer together. This isn’t the last we’ll see of Sullen Connie in Act III, and it’s nice to see that Steven isn’t the only kid on the block who’s becoming more of a teen.

Another sign of their growth is shown in the fluid action of Stevonnie’s training; even when they’re not on the top of their game, Steven and Connie’s developing physical skill is on full display as their fusion weaves about the battlefield. Stevonnie’s ambidexterity functions well as a signifier of which kid is in a healthier state: Steven’s shield is in their right hand in the first training session, while Connie’s sword takes its place in the second.

(Oh, and on the subject of subtle visual storytelling, don’t think we didn’t notice the damaged pink diamond floating above the Sky Arena.)

The first two acts of Mindful Education tell such a complete story about Connie that the appearance of a butterfly for Steven almost comes across as a twist: again, his terrible advice about bottling up emotions upon accidentally hurting people is a pretty big hint that he’s pushing down his feelings, but this is such a satisfactory episode already that its conclusion feels like a bonus.

It’s harrowing for Steven to start working through how much horrible stuff has happened in such a short amount of time, but it’s oh so satisfying for us to finally see him process it. The transformation of Holo Pearl into Jeff (who I’m sure is named for Mr. Liu) was a neat way to show Connie’s guilt, but it’s complemented by a punch to the gut as Stevonnie impales an image of Bismuth instead of just getting thrown off by the illusion. And because Steven has let his problems pile up, the rest of his ghosts flood in. I love the inclusion of Eyeball, the foe that Steven logically should feel the least amount of guilt about (Bismuth was a friend, and Jasper refused help while blaming him, but Eyeball was an enemy actively trying to kill him). It shows that he really does care about everyone, and that the compounding problems only make the guilt worse: Bismuth and Jasper begin in their normal sizes, but Eyeball is massive in Stevonnie’s imagination. And then, as a horrible distortion of her theme heralds her arrival, we get the most powerful ghost of all.

Obviously Steven isn’t able to deal with the Rose factor right now, but acknowledging that there’s a problem is the first and hardest step. And despite how talented Aivi and Surasshu are at enhancing the mood with music, there’s nothing like the stark silence that follows Rose’s theme to bring the impact home.

AJ Michalka once again shows off her talent for voicing Steven and Connie separately as Stevonnie has an internal conversation; it’s such a seamless interaction that it’s easy to forget that this scene shifts from one actor voicing these two characters to two different actors voicing the same two characters as Steven and Connie plummet to the ground. As I mentioned in The Answer, my favorite Miyazaki movie is Castle in the Sky, so I’m thrilled to see another reference to two heroes falling hand in hand before slowing to a safe landing.



Our conclusion isn’t about Steven coming to terms with three failures in a row and a life-changing revelation. It’s about him realizing that it’s okay to admit that everything isn’t okay, and that he doesn’t have to put on a bald cap and be a ham to make everyone else more comfortable. This is something that friends can help with, but that he ultimately has to figure out for himself. Still, it’s beautiful that by working together, he and his best friend become strong in the real way.

But of course, they had help. I mentioned in Back to the Moon that our Big Three Crystal Gems each get an episode that acts as an epilogue to their Act II arcs, and it’s Garnet’s turn. Garnet begins Act II as a leader who’s quiet about being a fusion and who has a hard time understanding the anxieties of her less confident teammates. By the end, she transforms into a leader who’s more open and willing to share her own vulnerabilities, and a loud and proud fusion no matter who she’s interacting with. Mindful Education leans in hard on her expertise in fusion, but just as importantly shows that she’s willing to coach others by revealing how Ruby and Sapphire work through struggles. Her growth is less overt than Amethyst and Pearl overcoming more obvious hurdles, but it’s still hard to imagine Garnet being this capable of helping Connie and Steven fifty episodes ago.

Garnet is also the source of two intriguing callbacks in the form of quoting past lines. The first is the wonderful “Hold the phone. Now give the phone to me,” which Steven tells Greg in The Message as a means of interrupting his song about Lapis Lazuli being a super mean riptide queen (sidenote: I’m sure Lapis would be flattered by Greg’s assessment). Garnet repeats this phrase right after Steven suggests that you can get used to not thinking about your guilt, and it’s a brilliant way of gently putting a stop to this bad idea.

The second is a pointed “that is to say” as she explains the importance of harmony within fusion. This is a common enough phrase, but it was so prominent in fellow sparring episode Sworn to the Sword that I can’t imagine it’s a coincidence. It connects Garnet to Pearl’s role as a teacher, and specifically as a teacher to Steven and Connie; fortunately, this time the teacher is instilling a message of self-reflection instead of self-sacrifice.

I call these callbacks intriguing because Garnet herself was not present for either scene in which we hear the lines she’s quoting. And sure, this could just be standard screenplay magic without an in-universe explanation. But to me, it enhances the sense of Garnet as an all-knowing mentor, at least as far as this episode is concerned. Her wisdom is absolute, and it might be pretentious for a show to claim such certainty with its message, but Mindful Education has an outstanding message, so I’m all in.

But back to that ending for a second. It, like Here Comes a Thought, provides a calming answer to a scene of turmoil. It’s obviously a quicker moment of relief: just a glimpse of Stevonnie laughing, catching their breath, and reassuring Steven and Connie. However, like Here Comes a Thought, the episode keeps going. This time, in the form of the end credits.

Since Bubbled, we’ve heard nothing but ambient waves as the credits roll, bereft of the comfort Love Like You has provided after nearly every prior episode. But now we begin the reprise, and this first segment is such an eerie departure from the norm that serenity once again takes a backseat.

With time, it becomes clearer and clearer that this song is just more Love Like You. But in this period of uncertainty in Steven’s life, I deeply admire the decision to keep us lost in the woods for a while before figuring out that it’s something we’ve known all along. Just a thought.

We’re the one, we’re the ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!



Remember my issues with Here Comes a Thought, way up there at the beginning of the review? Yeah, they don’t keep this out of my top ten.

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2. Sadie’s Song

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