Creativity is a fundamental aspect of being human. It's our birthright. And it's for all of us.

The outside universe we perceive doesn't exist as such. Through a series of electrical and chemical reactions, we generate a reality internally. We create forests and oceans, warmth and cold. We read words, hear voices, and form interpretations. Then, in an instant, we produce a response. 
 
All of this in a world of our own creation.

Just as trees grow flowers and fruits, humanity creates works of art

If you have an idea you're excited about and you don't bring it to life, it's not uncommon for the idea to find its voice through another maker. This isn't because the other artist stole your idea, but because the idea's time has come.

If your antenna isn't sensitively tuned, you're likely to lose the data in the noise. Particularly since the signals coming through are often more subtle than the content we collect through sensory awareness

Art is a circulation of energetic ideas. What makes them appear new is that they're combining differently each time they come back.

The more raw data we can take in, and the less we shape it, the closer we get to nature.

No matter what tools you use to create, 
the true instrument is you. 
And through you, 
the universe that surrounds us 
all comes into focus.

The spiritual world provides a sense of wonder and a degree of open-mindedness not always found within the confines of science. The world of reason can be narrow and filled with dead ends, while a spiritual viewpoint is limitless and invites fantastic possibilities.

Faith allows you to trust the direction without needing to understand it.

Material for our work surrounds us at every turn. It's woven into conversation, nature, chance encounters, and existing works of art. 
When looking for a solution to a creative problem, pay close attention to what's happening around you. Look for clues pointing to new methods or ways to further develop current ideas.

If we aren't looking for clues, they'll pass by without us ever knowing. Notice connections and consider where they lead.

You might imagine that the outside world is a conveyor belt with a stream of small packages on it, always going by. 
The first step is to notice the conveyor belt is there. And then, any time you want, you can pick up one of those packages, unwrap it, and see what's inside.

When clues present themselves, it can sometimes feel like the delicate mechanism of a clock at work. As if the universe is nudging you with little reminders that it's on your side and wants to provide everything you need to complete your mission.

Look for what you notice 
but no one else sees.

The heart of experiment is mystery. We cannot predict where a seed will lead or if it will take root. Remain open to the new and unknown. Begin with a question mark and embark on a journey of discovery. 
 
…You may be tempted to intervene and steer its development toward a specific goal or preconceived idea. This may not lead to the most productive of its possibilities at this stage of the process. 
 
Allow the seed to follow its own path toward the sun.

Failure is the information you need to get where you're going.

The proven solutions are sometimes the least helpful.

Taking a wrong turn allows you to see landscapes you wouldn't otherwise have seen.

Switching to other projects will engage different muscles and patterns of thinking. These may shed light on paths otherwise unseen. And this may happen over the course of days, weeks, months, or years. 
 
Even in a single work session, moving between multiple projects can be helpful. 
 
There are also times when a single seed has so much power that you choose to focus on it exclusively, and that is your choice to make.

Once enough data is collected, and the vision is clear, it can be helpful to set deadlines for completion. 
The options are no longer unlimited; the process is less open-ended.

In the Craft phase, deadlines are suggested completion dates rather than set in stone. 
There is still an element of surprise and exploration throughout our execution, and it's possible to find ourselves at any moment back in the Experimentation phase.

While crafting, make deadlines for your own motivation, not necessarily to be shared with others unless it helps with accountability. 
 
Once the Craft phase is nearing an end, then we might start thinking in terms of fixed deadlines.

If an artist is creating a beautiful work, and keeps endlessly crafting it beyond the need, sometimes they suddenly want to start all over. This can be because they have changed or the times have changed. 
 
Art is a reflection of the artist's inner and outer world during the period of creation. Extending the period complicates the artist's ability to capture a state of being. The result can be a loss of connection and enthusiasm for the work over time.

When we become overly attached to a premature version of the work, we do a disservice to the project's potential.

Falling short of grander visions might actually put the work exactly where it wants to be. Do not let the scale of your imagination get in the way of executing a more practical version of your project. We may come to realize that this version is better than the initial, seemingly impossible vision.

If you're holding a center puzzle piece in your hand and staring at an empty tabletop, it's difficult to determine where to place it. If all of the puzzle is complete except for that one piece, then you know exactly where it goes. The same is generally true of art. 
The more of the work you can see, the easier it becomes to gracefully place the final details clearly where they belong.

A musician may delay releasing an album for fear they haven't taken the songs as far as they can go. Yet an album is only a diary entry of a moment of time, a snapshot reflection of who the artist is for that period. And no one diary entry is our life story. 
 
Our life's work is far greater than any individual container. The works we do are at most chapters. There will always be a new chapter, and another after that. Though some might be better than others, that is not our concern. 
 
Our objective is to be free to close one chapter and move on to the next, and to continue that process for as long as it pleases us

With each chapter we make, we gain experience, improve at our craft, and inch closer to who we are.

If you're established in a craft or field, temporary rules may be useful to break a pattern. 
They can challenge you to become better, to innovate, and to bring out a new side of yourself or your work

The energy of wonder and discovery can get lost when treading the same ground over and over again.

A rule is a way of structuring awareness.

The more formulaic your creation is, the more it hugs the shore of what's been popular, the less like art it's likely to be. And in fact, creativity in that spirit often fails even at its own goals. 
 
There is no more valid metric to predict what someone else might enjoy than us liking it ourselves. 
 
Fear of criticism, Attachment to a commercial result, Competing with past work. Time and resource constraints, The aspiration of wanting to change the world. 
 
And any story beyond "I want to make the best thing I can make, whatever it is" are all undermining forces in the quest for greatness.

Greatness begets greatness. It's infectious.

Success has nothing to do with variables outside yourself.

Most variables are completely out of our control. The only ones we can control are doing our best work, sharing it, starting the next, and not looking back.

Your trust in your instincts and excitement are what resonate with others.

Instead of sinking into the pain of heartbreak or the stress of being laid off or the grief of loss, if practicing detachment the response might be: I wasn't expecting that plot twist. I wonder what's going to happen to our hero next. 
 
There's always a next scene, and that next scene may be one of great beauty and fulfillment. The hard times were the required setup to allow these new possibilities to come into being.

The ecstatic is our compass, pointing to our true north. It arises genuinely in the process of creation. You're working and struggling, and suddenly you notice a shift. A revelation. 
 
A small tweak is made, a new angle is revealed, and it takes your breath away. 
 
It can arise from even the most seemingly mundane detail. The change of a word in a sentence. Instantly, the passage morphs from nonsense to poetry, and everything falls into place. 
 
An artist will be in the throes of creation, and the work may seem unremarkable for a while. Suddenly, a shift occurs or a moment is revealed, and the same piece now seems extraordinary.

Be aware of strong responses. If you're immediately turned off by an experience, it's worth examining why. Powerful reactions often indicate deeper wells of meaning. And perhaps by exploring them, you'll be led to the next step on your creative path.

With each new project, we are challenging ourselves to most beautifully reflect what's living in us at that particular window of time. 
 
In this spirit of self-competition, task yourself to go further and push into the unexpected. Don't stop even at greatness. Venture beyond.

Distilling a work to get it as close to its essence as possible is a useful and informative practice. Notice how many pieces you can remove before the work you're making ceases to be the work you're making. 
 
Refine it to the point where it is stripped bare, in its least decorative form yet still intact. With nothing extra. Sometimes the ornamentation can be of use, often not. Less is generally more.

>Perfection is finally obtained not when there is no longer anything to add, but when there's no longer anything to take away. 
>Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Wind, Sand and Stars

As artists, our mission is not to fit in or conform to popular thinking. Our purpose is to value and develop our understanding of ourselves and the world around us.

It's helpful to work as if the project you're engaged in is bigger than you.

Artists occasionally experience a sense of stagnation. A block. This isn't because the flow of creativity has stopped. It can't. This generative energy is ceaseless. It may just be that we are choosing not to engage with it. 
… 
A block of your own making. A decision, conscious or unconscious, not to participate in the stream of productive energy that is available to us at all times. 
 
When we feel constricted, we might begin to create an opening through surrender. If we let go of our analytical thoughts, the flow might be able to find a path through us more easily, We can be and do, rather than think and try, Create in the present, rather than anticipating the future. 
 
Each time we surrender, we may come to find that the answer we seek is right before our eyes. A new idea arrives. An object in the room inspires. Feelings in the body amplify, This is worth considering in difficult moments when we appear to be stuck, to have lost our way, to have nothing let to give. 
 
What if this is all a story?

It's easy to create a piece, recognize a flaw, and want to discard the entire work. This reflex happens in all areas of life. 
 
When you look at the work, practice truly seeing what's there, without a negativity bias. Be open to seeing both strength and weakness, instead of focusing on the weakness and allowing it to overwhelm the strength. 
… 
When you acknowledge a weakness, always consider how it could either be removed or improved before discarding the entire piece. 
 
What if the source of creativity is always there, knocking patiently on the doors of our perception, waiting for us to unbolt the locks?

If you are open and stay tuned to what's happening, the answers will be revealed.

When gathering seeds to begin our work, we may be tempted to look for a grand sign before committing ourselves. A clap of thunder to assure us that we've found the right path. We may discard ideas that don't seem of great importance or magnitude. 
 
But the size does not matter. Volume does not equal value.

Whatever route the information arrives through, we allow it to come by grace, not effort. The whisper cannot be wrestled into existence, only welcomed with an open state of mind.

As each small surprise leads to another, you'll soon find the biggest surprise: 
 
You learn to trust yourself in the universe, with the universe, as a unique channel to a higher wisdom. 
 
This intelligence is beyond our understanding. Through grace, it is accessible to all.

Living in discovery is at all times preferable to living through assumptions.

Faith is rewarded, perhaps even more than talent or ability.

When we don't yet know where we're going, we don't wait. 
 
We move forward in the dark. If nothing we attempt yields progress, we rely on belief and will. We may take several steps backward in the sequence to move ahead.

There is no failure, as every step we take is necessary to reach our destination, including the missteps. Each experiment is valuable in its own way if we learn something from it. Even if we can't comprehend its worth, we are still practicing our craft, moving ever so much closer to mastery. 
 
With unshakable faith, we work under the assumption that the problem is already solved. The answer is out there, perhaps it's obvious. We just haven't come across it yet. 
 
Over time, as you complete more projects, this faith in experimentation grows. You're able to hold high expectations, move forward with patience, and trust the mysterious unfolding before you. With the understanding that the process will get you where you're going. Wherever that reveals itself to be. And the magical nature of the unfolding never ceases to take our breath away.

When something doesn't go according to plan, we have a choice to either resist it or incorporate it. 
 
Instead of shutting the project down or expressing frustration, we might consider what else can be done with the materials at hand.

A more constructive strategy is to focus less on the lightning bolt and more on the spaces surrounding it. 
The space before, because lightning does not strike unless the right preconditions are met, and the space after, because the electricity dissipates if you do not capture it and use it. When we are struck by an epiphany, our experience of what's possible has been expanded. In that instant, we are broken open. 
We've entered a new reality.

Without diligence, inspiration alone rarely yields work of much consequence

If inspiration does not come to lead the way, we show up anyway.

At any moment, you're prepared to stop what you're doing to make a note or a drawing, or capture a fleeting thought. It becomes second nature. And we're always in it, every hour of the day. 
 
Staying in it means a commitment to remain open to what's around you. Paying attention and listening. Looking for connections and relationships in the outside world. Searching for beauty. Seeking stories. Noticing what you find interesting, what makes you lean forward. And knowing all of this is available to use next time you sit down to work, where the raw data gets put into form.

Art made accidentally has no more or less weight than art created through sweat and struggle. 
 
Whether it took months or minutes does not matter. 
 
Quality isn't based on the amount of time invested. So long as what emerges is pleasing to us, the work has fulfilled its purpose.

Even spontaneity gets better with practice.

Sometimes, it can be the most ordinary moment that creates an extraordinary piece of art.

How can we know which choice will lead us to the best possible version of the work? 
 
The answer is rooted in a universal principle of relationships. We can only tell where something is in relation to something else. And we can only assess an object or principle if we have something to compare and contrast it to. Otherwise it's an absolute beyond evaluation. 
 
We can hack into this principle to improve our creations through A/B testing

If there isn't, we quiet ourselves to see which has a subtle pull. Following the natural feedback in the body, we move toward the option that hints at the ecstatic.

If you're at an impasse in an A/B test, consider the coin toss method. Decide which option will be heads and which will be tails, then flip the coin. When the coin is spinning in the air, you'll likely notice a quiet preference or wish for one of the two to come up. Which are you rooting for? This is the option to go with. It's the one the heart desires. The test is over before the coin ever lands.

What begins as a lightning bolt may not produce a work that reflects its initial magnitude, whereas a humble spark may grow into an epic masterpiece.

What ultimately makes a work great is the sum total of the tiniest details.

Implications (Purpose) 
 
You may sometimes wonder: Why am I doing this? What's it all for? 
 
Questions such as these come early and often for some. 
 
Others seem to go their whole lives without ever troubling themselves with these thoughts. Maybe they know that the maker and the explainer are always two different people, even when they're the same person. 
 
In the end, these questions are of little importance. There doesn't need to be a purpose guiding what we choose to make. When examined more closely, we might find this grandiose idea useless. It implies we know more than we can know. 
 
If we like what we are creating, we don't have to know why. Sometimes the reasons are obvious, sometimes not. 
 
And they can change over time. It could be good for any of a thousand different reasons. When we're making things we love, our mission is accomplished. There's nothing at all to figure out.

Think to yourself: 
 
I'm just here to create.

The world is only as free as it allows its artists to be.

What we say, 
what we sing, 
what we paint— 
we get to choose. 
 
We have no responsibility to anything other than the art itself. 
 
The art is the final word.

It requires the obsessive desire to create great things. This pursuit doesn't have to be agonizing. It can be enlivening. It's up to you.

The gifts of art are more learned and developed than innate. We can always improve.

After being away for a long enough period of time, when we come back, we just may be able to see (the work) as if for the first time. 
 
This is the practice of cleaning the slate. 
 
The ability to create as an artist and experience the work as a first-time viewer, dropping baggage from the past of what you thought you wanted the work to be. The mission is to be in the present moment with the work.

When a piece isn't living up to your expectations, consider changing the context. Look past the principle element examine the variables around it.

Notes -
If your startup isn’t performing as you hoped, consider changing or at least evaluate new customers or markets. 
If you sell photo cameras, are you sure you are in the business of cameras and not in photography (as Nikon failed to recognize)?

The call of the artist is to follow the excitement. Where there’s excitement, there’s energy. And where there’s energy, there is light.

The best work 
is the work you are excited about.

Find a clue, follow a lead, remain unattached to what came before. And avoid getting stuck with a decision you made five minutes ago.

Find a clue, follow a lead, remain unattached to what came before. And avoid getting stuck with a decision you made five minutes ago.

In addition to these environmental variations, we are also always changing within. 
Our moods, our energy level, the stories we tell ourselves, our prior experiences, how hungry or tired we are: 
All these variants create a new way of being in each moment.

Notes -
The stories we tell ourselves define who we are and who we will be.

For this reason, not every work can reflect all of our selves. Perhaps it's never possible, no matter how hard we try. 
 
Instead, we might embrace the prism of self, and keep allowing reality to bend uniquely through us. 
 
Like a kaleidoscope, we can adjust the aperture on our vision and change the results. We may aim to work from one particular aspect, like taking on a character, and create something from our darkest self or our most spiritual self.

Any framework, method, or label you impose on yourself is just as likely to be a limitation as an opening.

Sometimes the most valuable touch a collaborator can have is no touch at all.

Notes -
Let it be

It helps to keep in mind that language is an imperfect means of communication. An idea is altered and diluted through its mistranslation into words. Those words are then further distorted through our filter as we take them in, leaving us in a world of ambiguity.

It requires patience and diligence to get past the story of what you think you're hearing and get close to understanding what's actually being said. 
 
When receiving feedback, a useful practice is to repeat back the information. You may find that what you heard isn't what was said. And what was said may not even be what was actually meant. 
 
Ask questions to gain clarity. When collaborators patiently explain what aspects of the work they're focusing on, we may recognize that our visions are not in opposition. 
 
We're just using different language or noticing different elements. 
 
When sharing observations, specificity creates space. It dissipates the level of emotional charge and enables us to work together in service of the piece.

Notes -
Handling feedback and gaining clarity

The synergy of a group is as important, if not more important than the talent of the individuals.

Art goes deeper than thought. Deeper than the stories about yourself. It breaks through inner walls and accesses what's behind.

Notes -
Music can convey information in a much deeper and broader way than words. Music can transmit a myriad of shades of feelings, ofter without using any word. Just rhythm and sound (Andrew Huberman podcast on music). 
 
Art in general, works the same way.

We are not aiming to reduce the work to its final length. 
 
We are working to reduce it beyond its final length. Even if trimming away 5 percent will leave the work at the scale you intend for it, we may cut deeper and leave only half or a third. 
If you're working on a ten-song album and you've recorded twenty songs, you're not aiming to reduce it to ten. 
You're shrinking it to five, to only the tracks you can't live without. 
If you've written a book that's over three hundred pages, try to reduce it to less than a hundred without losing its essence.

We're not looking for more for the sake of more. We're only looking for more for the sake of better.

"Making the simple complicated is commonplace," 
 
Charles Mingus once said. "Making the complicated simple, awesomely simple, that's creativity."

Billions of data points are available at any given moment and we collect only a small number. With this glimpse through a keyhole, we assemble an interpretation and add another story to our collection. 
 
With each story we tell ourselves, we negate possibility. 
 
Reality is diminished. Rooms of the self are walled off. 
 
Truth collapses to fit a fictional organizing principle we've adopted.