The Creative Act by Rick Rubin: Reclaiming Creativity as a Way of Being
- Fika Mental Health
- Jan 16
- 3 min read
So many of us carry a quiet longing to create—art, music, words, meaning—but feel blocked by self-doubt, comparison, or the fear that we’re “not the creative type.” In The Creative Act: A Way of Being, legendary music producer Rick Rubin invites us to unlearn that story.
This book is less a how-to guide and more a philosophy of creative living. Rubin gently suggests that creativity isn’t a talent some people are born with—it’s a way of moving through the world. A way of noticing, feeling, experimenting, and returning to ourselves.
As therapists and wellness professionals, we know how often creativity and mental health intersect. Whether we’re trying to heal, self-regulate, or reconnect with our own aliveness, creativity is often a powerful part of that process.
“The goal is not to finish. The goal is to immerse in the process.”
Rubin offers this simple but powerful reminder early in the book. It challenges our productivity-driven culture and honours the reality that creativity doesn’t always move in a straight line.
Why this book resonates in therapeutic spaces:
It reminds us that art and expression are not just hobbies. They’re healing practices.
It reframes creativity as connection—to self, to others, to something bigger than us.
It honours sensitivity, intuition, and observation as creative superpowers.
It encourages us to let go of outcome and perfection, and return to play and presence.
A neuroaffirming lens on creativity
Rubin doesn’t present creativity as linear or structured. He embraces the truth that it’s messy, intuitive, and often nonverbal. For neurodivergent minds, this feels deeply validating. The book honours all the ways we process—internally, somatically, symbolically—without rushing to make sense of it too quickly.
Rubin also affirms that time spent thinking, daydreaming, resting, or feeling stuck is part of the creative cycle. This aligns beautifully with what we know about nervous system pacing and executive functioning. Slowness isn’t resistance. It’s often incubation.
A quote that stays with us:
“Being an artist means forever healing your own wounds and at the same time endlessly exposing them.”
This speaks to the intersection of creativity and emotional honesty. It’s not about being dramatic or performative. It’s about allowing our inner world to be seen—first by ourselves, then maybe by others.
Themes that show up in therapy too:
The fear of being “bad” at something before we’re good
The discomfort of showing up vulnerably and being witnessed
The grief of feeling like we lost our creative spark
The joy of finding flow, even in small moments
Rubin doesn’t offer formulas. Instead, he encourages questions like:
What feels honest?
What do you want to express?
Can you let go of judgment and follow the thread?
Creativity as regulation, not just expression
Many of us use creative acts to co-regulate—journaling, dancing, collaging, playlist-making, doodling, even reorganizing a space. Rubin sees creativity as a sacred, everyday ritual. Something that doesn’t need to be impressive. It just needs to be true.
Final thoughts
The Creative Act is a love letter to the part of us that wants to feel more alive. It reminds us that creativity isn’t about fame or achievement. It’s about paying attention, trusting ourselves, and making space for what wants to come through.
If you’ve been feeling stuck, uninspired, or unsure if your voice matters, this book might feel like a breath of fresh air. And if you already know that creativity is part of your healing, it will remind you that the act itself—messy, slow, sacred—is enough.
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