A few days ago I saw two kids at the park playing Red Light, Green Light with their Dad.
The rules of the game are simple…
The kids stood across the field as their Dad yelled commands.
“Green light” meant they can run toward him.
“Yellow light” meant they can walk toward him in slow motion.
And “Red light” meant they had to stop. Frozen.
If they were caught moving at a Red light, they had to take 5 steps back.
The first kid to reach their Dad won the game.
There’s always such a purity watching kids play.
But, like most things, this game reminded me about the rhythm of the creative process.
Green light is that rare flow state we tap into when the ideas are coming fast, our energy is peaked, and the worst thing we can do is second guess ourself.
Our job is just to go, go, go! Letting whatever wants to come out, out.
Yellow light might actually be the most underrated phase. It's not stopping. But it’s moving at a pace that allows us to be curious, observant, and patient.
A lot of people mistake it for being stuck when really the work is happening below the surface.
Red light is the full stop in the process that makes the other two possible.
Rest. Distance. Perspective. Clarity. You can't sustain your Green lights without your Red lights.
Some of our best creative decisions get made during the Red light…
When we’re not trying.
The tricky part is most of us want to be on green all the time.
But that always just leads us to burn out or work that feels forced.
The game only works because all three lights exist.
And this brings me back to the kids in the park…
If the game is the lights, then how do we win?
Well, I watched the kids play three times and the little boy’s older sister won.
Every. Single. Time…
And her strategy was clear.
While her brother was anticipating sprinting at the sound of the next light, she was being present in the current light she was on.
Presence is the key.
Not forcing green when we’re in a yellow moment. Not pushing through a red out of guilt or pressure.
Just being honest enough with ourselves to read the signal that's actually in front of us.
Because anticipating your next light takes you out of your body and into your mind.
And when that happens, it might lead to one two steps forward. But the consequence, just like the game, is always five steps back.
Errors. Poor judgement. Burn out. Resentment of the work.
But look…there’s good news about this.
When the kids made mistakes they’d just laugh it off. Take the steps back. And embrace the light.
They were aware about how beautiful the game is regardless of its ups and downs.
They were free.
Somewhere along the way a lot of us start treating stumbles like evidence of a deeper problem.
But in the game, a stumble is just a stumble. You go back a few steps and you're still in it.
Presence makes that possible.
When you're truly in it, setbacks aren’t the end of the world.
It’s just a part of the process.
And I believe this can’t be taught.
It can only be lived.
Someone can hand me the exact keys of the game…
Presence. Patience. Knowing when to move…
And I’ll nod and agree, maybe even feel inspired.
But the next day find myself sprinting past yellow lights and calling it hustle.
Still frozen at red long past the light changes and calling it wisdom.
The understanding only comes through failing inside the process.
Through actually overrunning the light enough times to feel what it costs. Through sitting still so long we recognize the specific hollowness of stagnation versus the fullness of genuine rest.
So if you’re still finding your balance that’s okay.
You’re sharpening your presence inside of the creative process.
Becoming more and more aware of your light.
Stay creative,
