In my pursuit of living in the present, I don’t do a lot of looking backwards. But I’ve been thinking about my childhood lately—a time when my imagination was my sanctuary. Moments like smelling flowers on the side of the road felt like holy experiences, though I wouldn’t have called them that at the time. It was all just life, colored by a child’s mind.

Almost all of my memories growing up are of myself alone, playing. I’d spend hours building tiny fairy villages out of twigs and leaves, scooping pools in the dirt for miniature hot springs, collecting pebbles and shells that felt like treasures. Those little worlds I created have been chasing me lately. They felt limitless, as though anything I could dream was already real in some way. My mind was the painter, the paintbrush, and the canvas. There was little separation between what I imagined and what I experienced.

I see that version of me now with such reverence because I can see that she was showing me the way. Those moments weren’t just about play; they were about creation. I was practicing the art of shaping reality. What I couldn’t have known then is that we never stop creating—we just forget.

A World Growing Smaller

Something happens as we grow older. At first, the world feels like it’s expanding—new places to explore, new people to meet, new things to learn. But I’ve begun to realize that what seems like a world getting bigger is actually our perception of ourselves shrinking. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, our belief in our power to create the world we inhabit starts to diminish. We trade imagination for expectation and curiosity for practicality, all in the name of growing up. What if the foundational reason for unhappiness is living in a world that is not of our own creation?

Nostalgia As A Return To Creation

Most of us can identify with the feeling of nostalgia, likening it to a longing for a certain time or memory. Nostalgia, according to etymology, is a return home—a yearning for something lost yet familiar. I used to think it was about missing a place or time. But now I wonder: is nostalgia really about returning to the act of creation? To a state of freedom of mind?

As children, creation wasn’t something we scheduled or sought out; it was simply how we moved through the world. We painted it with our imagination, filling gaps in understanding with wonder instead of rules. Nostalgia aches not for the past, but for the part of ourselves that once lived so freely in possibility.

When we lose the ability to create in alignment with our inner truth, something within us withers. Depression, in this sense, is not the opposite of joy but the opposite of expression. And expression is not a luxury; it is as essential as breath. Without it, we become trapped in the illusions of others, mistaking their visions for reality and longing for a return to a home of our making. Through suppressing our own need to create and express, whether out of fear, conditioning, or exhaustion, we slowly become disconnected from ourselves and our very nature. Life feels hollow, as though we are moving through someone else’s dream.

A Birthright Forgotten

We are always creating. Whether consciously or unconsciously, the thoughts we think, the emotions we feel, and the actions we take are acts of creation. They ripple outward, shaping our lives and, collectively, the world we inhabit. The question is not if we are creating but what we are creating—and whether we are doing so with intention or merely reacting to the creations of others.

Most of us move through life responding to frameworks, structures, and norms created by others, many of whom lived in entirely different eras, with different challenges, wisdom, and priorities. We drag these inherited creations forward, treating them as immutable truths, forgetting that they were born from someone else’s imagination. These systems and ways of being are not blueprints for existence but artifacts of people who came before us.

We live in a kind of collective amnesia, forgetting that we, too, are creators. That the world we inhabit can—and should—reflect our current consciousness. Instead, we perpetuate systems that are increasingly misaligned with the needs and truths of our time. But our gift, and our responsibility, is to create a world that meets this moment, this consciousness, and the unique challenges we face today.

The Power of Conscious Creation

Each of our lives is an opportunity to shape the world through our eyes. Isn’t it amazing that every invention, every song, every story that has ever touched someone’s heart or changed their perspective began as an inspired thought? These inspired ideas are clues from our future selves, waiting for us to bring them into form so we can shift into the timeline of that version of us and the world that houses it. When we act on these inspired thoughts, we participate in a kind of alchemy, transforming potential into reality.

The worlds we create individually are not only personal; they are collective. The choices we make, the systems we build, the norms we tolerate—these influence the shared reality we all live in. When we are stifled in our authentic expression, we contribute to the unconscious momentum of outdated systems and beliefs. Conversely, when we choose to create with intention, we expand the possibilities for everyone.

To get in touch with our power as creators, we have to first recognize that creation is not reserved for grand gestures or extraordinary talents. It is in the way we approach our daily lives, the thoughts we nurture, the emotions we process, and the actions we take and don’t take. Creation is as subtle as the way we choose to see the world and as profound as the changes we make in it.

Practical Steps to Reclaim Your Creator Mode:

Notice What Inspires You.

Pay attention to the moments that spark a sense of wonder, curiosity, or joy. These are breadcrumbs from your future Self, inviting you to explore, create, and transform. Write them down or let them guide your attention—they are clues to what you’re here to shape.

Question The Inherited.

Take a moment to reflect on what aspects of your life feel like someone else’s creation. Are there limiting beliefs or routines you’ve accepted without questioning their relevance to your true desires? Start to allow yourself to reimagine these, releasing what no longer serves you to make space for what aligns with your current awareness.

Ask: What Can I Create Today?

Start small. Creation doesn’t have to mean designing a masterpiece or solving world problems. It can be as simple as preparing a meal with care, decluttering your space, or creating ten minutes to find a new way to approach a challenge. Sometimes creating means creating a new perspective—an intention that can spark a domino effect of positive change.

Shift From Reaction To Intention.

Observe the moments when you’re reacting to the world around you. Pause and ask: How can I respond in a way that feels aligned with my ideal version of myself? This subtle shift can transform your experiences from passive to active creation.

Embrace Play.

Return to a sense of play, where the outcome matters less than the act itself. Build, draw, write, or dream with no purpose other than the joy of the process. Play is a powerful way to tap into the freedom of mind that fuels creation. Remember, we cannot create authentically if we analyze at the same time. To play is to create freely.

What do you wish the world had more of, and is it something you can help usher into existence? If you want to live in a world with more trees, when is the last time you planted one? It doesn’t have to be perfect—it just has to begin. These small acts of intention are the seeds of the worlds we will one day inhabit.