A while back, I did a small experiment with myself.
It was something I had wanted to do for a very long time, but somehow, I kept postponing it. Something would always come up. Work, plans, excuses, life. And like most things we deeply want to do but keep avoiding, it quietly stayed on my list for months.
At New Year’s, everyone makes resolutions.
“I’ll work out.”
“I’ll read more.”
“I’ll build this habit.”
“I’ll become a new person.”
And for a few weeks, maybe even a few months, the energy is there. But slowly, life takes over again. The resolution fades. The old routine wins.
This year, I wanted to try something different.
I had read about this idea that Bill Gates does called “Think Weeks.” He takes time away from everything, goes to a secluded place, disconnects from the world, reads, thinks, and gives his mind enough space to come up with new ideas.
A full week felt too much for me.
So I thought, let me try it for just one day.
Twenty-four hours.
No internet. No notifications. No distractions. No background noise.
Just me, some books, a few canvases, pens, colors, and silence.
I wanted to do this since January.
But my mind kept making excuses.
“Maybe next weekend.”
“This weekend is busy.”
“Let me plan it better.”
“What if it’s boring?”
“What if I waste the day?”
And just like that, January became February, February became March, March became April.
Finally, in May, I did it.
I went to a secluded island for 24 hours.
No internet. No technology. Nothing fancy.
Just space.
And honestly?
It was magical.
Humans are creators by nature
One of the biggest things I realized is that we all are creators.
We don’t need perfect conditions to create. We just need enough silence to hear what wants to come through us.
I had planned everything. I packed my watercolors, my little canvas book, pens, colors, and all the cute things that make you feel like an artist before you even begin. And then I realized I had forgotten my paint brushes.
For a second, I was annoyed.
But then something funny happened.
I ended up making paint brushes from paper towels and wooden sticks.
And I still painted. A lot.
That moment taught me something simple but powerful:
You can never plan everything.
And maybe you don’t need to.
Sometimes, the missing brush becomes part of the art.
The same thing happened with food.
Since I knew I wouldn’t have easy access to food on the island, I ordered food beforehand. Very responsible. Very planned. Very adultish haha.
Except I ordered it at the wrong restaurant.
So there I was, on my little “deep spiritual creative retreat,” laughing at myself and buying fruits and smoothies from Safeway.
Again, life reminded me:
You can plan the structure, but you cannot control every detail.
And maybe that is the beauty of it.
The most important lesson from that day was this:
Creativity comes naturally to an empty mind.
We don’t have to force ideas.
We don’t have to chase inspiration.
We just have to make space.
In our daily lives, we fill our minds with so much junk – messages, videos, opinions, noise, tasks, scrolling, overthinking, random information, and emotional clutter.
Then when creativity comes knocking, it probably looks inside and says,
“Oh man, there’s no space here. I’ll come later.”
And it leaves.
But when the mind is empty, ideas enter so naturally.
A friend recently asked me, “What’s going on in your head?”
And I said, “Honestly? It’s mostly empty.”
She looked confused and asked, “Then how do you remember so many things?”
The answer is simple.
I make space in my head so that new things are welcome.
That day, I painted. I walked a lot. I noticed the colors of nature. I wrote almost 30 pages, maybe even the beginning of a book. I read. I sat quietly. I rested.
Nothing dramatic happened.
There was no lightning strike moment where the sky opened and a voice said, “Here is your life purpose.”
But something softer happened.
I felt clear.
I felt light.
I felt like I had returned to myself.
Was it worth it?
A hundred percent.
Am I a completely changed person now?
Maybe not completely.
But a little bit, yes.
And sometimes, a little bit is enough.
Will I do it again?
Hell yes.
Leave a Reply