Favorite Quotes from The Creative Act: A Way of Being by Rick Rubin

The practice of spirituality is a way of looking at the world where you’re not alone. (p. 32)

When my appendix burst, the doctor who diagnosed it insisted that I go to the hospital immediately to have it removed. I was told there were no other options. I found myself in a nearby bookstore. Standing Standing out on a table in the front was a new book by Dr. Andrew Weil. I picked it up and let it fall open. The first passage my eyes went to said: if a doctor wants to remove a part of your body, and they tell you it has no function, don’t believe this. The information I needed was made available to me in that moment. And I still have my appendix. (p. 39)

A practice is the embodiment of an approach to a concept. (p. 43)

The purpose is to evolve the way we see the world when we’re not engaged in these acts. We are building the musculature of our psyche to more acutely tune in. (p. 45)

Until one day, you notice that you are always in the practice of awareness, at all times, in all places, living your life in a state of constant openness to receiving. (p. 45)

Because there’s an endless amount of data available to us and we have a limited bandwidth to conserve, we might consider carefully curating the quality of what we allow in. (p. 50)

The objective is not to learn to mimic greatness, but to calibrate our internal meter for greatness. So we can better make thousands of choices that might ultimately lead to our own great work. (p. 50)

No one is the same person all day long. (p. 56)

Just write whatever words spill forth. (p. 64)

These trancelike conditions bypass the thinking park of the brain and access the dream state. (p. 64)

In the same way, regardless of how much we’re paying attention, the information we seek is out there. If we’re aware, we get to tune in to more of it. If we’re less aware, we miss it. (p. 67)

When those around you don’t see what you see and feel what you feel, this can lead to a sense of isolation and a general feeling of not belonging, of otherness. (p. 75)

A completed project is only made up of our intention and our experiments around it. Remove intention and all that’s left is the ornamental shell. (p. 94)

Should the bee go extinct, not just flowers but birds, small mammals, and humans would likely also cease to exist. It’s fair to assume that the bee doesn’t know its role in this interconnected puzzle and in preserving the balance of nature. The bee is simply being. (p. 96)

The world isn’t waiting for more of the same. (p. 100)

Holding every rule as breakable is a healthy way to live as an artist. (p. 102)

Darkness and light are only meaningful in relationship with each other. Without one, the other wouldn’t exist. They are a matched dynamite system, like yin and yang. (p. 108)

Many of us experience life as if we’re taking it in through a pari of headphones. We strip away the full register. We hear information, but don’t detect the subtler vibrations of feeling in the body. (p. 110)

Our continual quest for efficiency discourages looking too deeply. The pressure to deliver doesn’t grant us time to consider all possibilities. Yet it’s through deliberate action and repetition that we gain deeper insight. (p. 114)

We can’t force greatness to happen. All we can do is invite it in and await it actively. Not anxiously, as this might scare it off. Simply in a state of continual welcoming. (p. 116)

If there is a rule to creativity that’s less breakable than the others, it’s that the need for patience is ever-present. (p. 116)

When you see what’s present around you as if for the first time, you start to realize how astonishing it all is. (p. 123)

The work yielded may not be used in the current project, but it may be of use another time. Or it may not. The task of the artist is simply to recognize the transmission and stay with it in gratitude, until it truly runs its course. (p. 130)

Feel free to experiment. The goal is to commit to a structure that can take on a life of it’s own, instead of creating only when the mood strikes. Or to start each day with the question of how and when you’re coming to work on your art. (p. 137)

Create and environment where you’re free to express what you’re afraid to express. (p. 142)

The outcome is not up to us. Give some attention to each seed, regardless of what your believe its potential may be, and look for a beautiful response. (p. 153)

Often the most accurate signposts are emotional, not intellectual. Excitement tends to be the best barometer for selecting which seeds to focus on. When something interesting starts to come together, it arouses delight. It’s an energizing feeling of wanting more. A feeling of leaning forward. Follow that energy. (p. 153)

To avoid demo-itis, there is a simple technique. Unless actively working to make something better, avoid listening to it, reading it, playing it, looking at it, or showing it to friends. Work as far forward as you can while crafting and then step away, without repetitively consuming the unfinished work. By not accepting the work-in-progress as the standard version, we leave room for growth, change and development to continue. (p. 172)

It may not be possible to know who you are without somehow expressing it. (p. 182)

Whatever the situation, if a task is challenging to accomplish, there’s often a way to design the surroundings to naturally encourage the performance you’re striving for. (p. 186)

Limit the information to the barest of sketches. (p. 189)

Each new project is another opportunity to communicate what’s coming through you. It’s another chance at bat. Another opportunity to connect. Another page filled in the diary of your inner life. (p. 196)

The recognition of abundence fills us with hope that our brightest ideas still await us an our greatest work is yet to come. We are able to live in an energized state of creative momentum, free to make things, let them go, make the next thing, and let it go. With each chapter we make, we gain experience, improve at our craft, and inch closer to who we are. (p. 203)

Imagine going to live on a mountaintop by yourself, forever. You build a home that no one will ever visit. Still, you invest the time and effort to shape the space in which you’ll spend your days. (p. 215)

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. (p. 220)

Whenever an instinct toward movement and evolution arises, it’s wise to listen to it. The alternative—being trapped by a fear of losing ground—is a dead end. You may lose your enjoyment and belief in the work because it’s no longer true to you. As a result, the work may ring hollow and fail to engage the audience anyway. (p. 221)

This is why it’s grounding to protect your personal understanding of success. And to make each new work, no matter where you stand on the ladder of public perception, like you have nothing to lose. (p. 222)

Zoom in and obsess. Zoom out and observe. We get to choose. (p. 226)

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. (p. 236)

The artist’s goal is to keep themselves pure and unattached. To avoid letting stress, responsibility, fear and dependence on a particular outcome distract. And if it does, it’s never too late to reset. (p. 255)

Self-awareness allows us to listen to what’s going on in the body, and notice the energetic changes that either pull us forward or push us away. Sometimes they are subtle, other times intense. (p. 258)

The whisper cannot be wrestled into existence, only welcomed with an open state of mind. (p. 271)

In time, we grow accustomed to experiencing moments that are difficult to explain. Moments where you give the art exactly what it needs, without intending to, where a solution seems as if it appeared without your intervention at all. (p. 274)

After all, how can we offer the art what it needs without blind trust? We are required to believe in something that doesn’t exist in order to allow it to come into being. (p. 278)

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. (p. 279)

The heart of open-mindedness is curiosity. Curiosity doesn’t take sides or insist on a single way of doing things. It explores all perspectives. Always open to new ways, always seeking to arrive at original insights. Craving constant expansion, it looks upon the outer limits of the mind with wonder. It pushes to expose falsely set boundaries and break through to new frontiers. (p. 285)

Staying in it means 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 your 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. (p. 296)

Even spontaneity gets better with practice. (p. 301)

The instinctual tug tends to be the purest, whereas the second, more reasoned thought tends to be processed and distorted through analysis. (p. 307)

When we’re making things we love, our mission is accomplished. There’s nothing at all figure out. (p. 314)

Art is far more powerful than our plans for it. (p. 318)

You don’t have to stand for your work, nor does your work have to stand for anything but itself. (p. 319)

The world is only as free as it allows its artists to be. (p. 319)

The only practice that matters is the one you consistently do, not the practice of any other artist. Find your most generative method, apply it, and then let it go when it is no longer of use. There is no wrong way to make art. (p. 326)

Art is an act of decoding. We receive intelligence from Source, and interpret it through the language of our chosen craft. (p. 331)

The ego comes in, saying: I wanted this to happen, I got what I wanted, so it’s a problem solved. But this isn’t necessarily true. Yes, the changes were made, but did they improve the work? Or have they set off a domino effect that created other problems? (p. 337)

Early in a project, excitement is the inner voltmeter to watch to help choose which seed to develop. When you’re handling a seed and the needle jumps, it indicates that the work is worthy of your attention, your devotion. It holds the potential to sustain your interest and make the effort worthwhile. (p. 344)

The best work is the work you’re excited about. (p. 347)

Feel free to experiment. Make messes. Embrace randomness. When playtime is over, our adult aspect might come in to analyze: What did the kids make today? I wonder if it’s any good, and what it could mean. (p. 354)

Whatever you choose, it’s helpful to have fellow travelers around you. They don’t have to be like you, just like-minded in some way. Creativity is contagious. When we spend time with other artistic people, we absorb and exchange a way of thinking, a way of looking at the world. (p. 361)

The moment one collaborator gives in and settles on a less preferential option for the sake of moving forward, everyone loses. Great decisions aren’t made in a spirit of sacrifice. They’re made by the mutual recognition of the best solution available. (p. 373)

It requires patience and diligence to get past the story of what you think you’re hearing and get close to understanding what’s being said. (p. 376)

Our taste is revealed in how our work is curated. What’s included, what’s not, and how the pieces are put together. (p. 386)

What effect does each component have? Does it amplify the essence? Does it distract from the essence? Does it contribute to the balance? Does it contribute to the structure? It is absolutely necessary? (p. 388)

Through this, we get to face our inner world outward, remove the boundaries of separation, and participate in the great remembering of what we came into this life knowing: There is no separation. We are one. (p. 393)

The magic lives in the wonder of what we do not know. (p. 400)

None of it can be truly understood, let alone distilled to simple equations or common language. (p. 404)