The Journey of Creation: Finding the Power Within
I just poured my heart into a song called The Permission to Dream. It wasn’t just music—it was a piece of me, raw and vulnerable. I spent hours crafting it, polishing it, making sure it captured everything I was feeling. I made a video to go with it, something beautiful that I was proud of. And then I posted it online, sharing it with the world, hoping it would resonate.
And the feedback? Silence.
This isn’t the first time, but it doesn’t get easier. I find myself questioning everything: Is my work not good enough? Am I not good enough? Why doesn’t anyone see me or what I’m trying to share? The doubts spiral, and they’re loud. They tell me to stop trying, to stop hoping, because the pain of being unseen is so sharp.
I know the advice—I’ve read it, heard it, tried to tell it to myself: Create for the joy of it, not for the validation. Trust the process. Believe in yourself. But the truth is, I’m not fully there yet. I don’t always feel like a creator. I don’t always feel strong enough to push past the silence.
Still, I keep reminding myself of something: I am a creator.
Even when I don’t feel it, I try to hold onto it. I try to tell myself that the act of creating, of putting something new into the world, matters. That it means something, even if no one else acknowledges it. It’s not easy, and most days, it doesn’t feel true. But I keep trying.
This Song’s Story
The Permission to Dream was born out of my own fluctuations about the meaning behind Christmas. Growing up, the beautiful packages wrapped in bright paper and ribbons used to spark excitement. But somewhere along the way, those gifts stopped calling to me. The glitter and perfection didn’t seem to hold the meaning I was searching for.
I started to ask myself: What is the true gift I want for myself? The answer didn’t come easily, but eventually, I realized what I longed for was this: the permission to dream. To give myself the freedom to try, to experience, to fail, and to find my way. That’s the deeper meaning I wanted—not something material, but something real and transformative.
How Do I Move Forward When I Feel Stuck in This Space?
1. Create for the Process, Even When It Hurts
I don’t always find joy in creating, especially when I’m caught up in doubts about the outcome. But I’ve learned that even on the hard days, creating can be grounding. It’s not about forcing joy; it’s about showing up for myself, even when it feels heavy.
2. Allow Myself to Dream
The Permission to Dream isn’t just the name of my song—it’s a reminder to myself. Even when the doubts are loud, I try to hold onto the possibility that my work could matter to someone, someday. It’s not easy, but giving myself that permission to dream, even just a little, keeps me moving forward.
3. Share, Even When It Feels Vulnerable
I know not everyone will see or connect with my work, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth sharing. The act of creating and putting it out there is an act of courage in itself. If you’d like to watch the music video, here’s the link:
Final Thoughts
When the silence feels deafening, it’s easy to lose sight of why you create. But I’ve come to understand that the act of creating itself is the purpose. Whether or not the world sees it, what you make has value because you made it. You are a creator, connected to the divine power of creation itself.
So keep going. Keep creating. The world may catch up, or it may not—but your art, your effort, your soul, are already enough.
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