Creation isn’t gentle.

We like to romanticize it.
Whiteboards. Journals. Vision boards. Soft lighting.

But real creation destroys something every time.

A forest fire burns so the pinecone can open.
A guitar string vibrates by being stretched and stressed.
Muscle grows by tearing.

Creation always breaks something.

Often, what it breaks first is your ego.

The version of you that thought you were already right.
The version that wanted certainty before courage.
The version that wanted approval before truth.

And this is why people resist creating.

Because creation demands humility.
It demands being seen before being polished.
It demands letting your beliefs, your identity, and your work be tested.

Not protected.

Beliefs that are never questioned don’t become strong.
They become rigid.

And rigidity doesn’t make you principled.
It traps you.

Many of the beliefs that once saved you will eventually suffocate you if you don’t revisit them.

So I’ll ask you plainly:

Which belief are you still loyal to…
even though it no longer fits the season you’re in?

And what would have to be destroyed for something truer to emerge?