Creativity doesn’t come from chaos. It needs a nest.
Not just a physical place, but a protected space — a vantage point where ideas can hatch, take shape, and eventually take flight. For me, that place is Bozeman, Montana. It sits higher than where I came from — literally and energetically.
- Bozeman, Montana: Elevation 4,793 feet.
- Freeport, Maine: Elevation 62 feet.
That’s not just geography. That’s a metaphor.
Out here in Montana, I can chase the wilderness in minutes. The land is bigger. The air feels lighter. The distractions are fewer. There’s room to think — and more importantly — room to breathe.
Maine will always hold history for me. It’s where I built businesses, raised kids, buried parents. It’s layered with memories and relationships — some of them foundational, others suffocating. The East Coast is denser, not just in population but in energy. There’s noise. There’s weight. There’s expectation.
But here’s something I need to say clearly: I have clients in Maine and I’ll always show up for them. I’m am both a Mainer and a Montanan.
Maine shaped me. It taught me how to work — how to be resilient, resourceful, and relentless. Some of my earliest creative instincts were sharpened there — like riding rails on edge. Speed and control. Flow and precision. I carry that balance with me every day.
This isn’t about escape. It’s about elevation. It’s about knowing where you think best, create best, lead best. It’s about honoring your roots while also reaching for what’s next.
Creatives need more than just room. They need safety — but not comfort in the lazy sense. A judgment-free zone where ideas can land before they take off. A place where failure isn’t punished and originality isn’t picked apart by people too afraid to try anything new.
Too many brainstorming sessions get hijacked by fear, ego, and control.
Too many entrepreneurs surround themselves with people who say they want innovation — until it doesn’t look like something they’ve seen before. You can’t create with someone breathing down your neck, waiting to poke holes.
And here’s the truth most people don’t want to say out loud: Some people are destructive to the creative process. Not because they mean to be — although some do — but because they just are. They don’t get it. They don’t want to get it. And they resent anyone who operates outside the lines they’ve drawn.
If you’re in business with people like that, you need to know: You can’t fix them.
You can’t elevate someone who doesn’t want to lift off. And trying to drag them higher will cost you time, energy, and momentum — maybe everything.
Creativity demands altitude. Not everyone is built to fly.
The eagle builds its nest high up, out of reach, away from distraction. It’s a solitary creature. It soars alone, not in flocks. That’s the reality of the creative path — it’s not a group activity. It never has been.
Yes, collaboration can work — but only in small, intentional groups of people who understand the mission and respect the mystery. Groupthink? That’s a creativity killer. It waters down vision until there’s nothing left but noise.
And don’t bother inviting pigeons to fly with you. They won’t. They’ll just flap around the base of the tree, cooing and pecking at your focus. Pigeons pull you down. They want you grounded, predictable, defined by your past. Not your potential.
If you want to rise, your environment matters. So does your company. So does your history.
Montanan, for me, is a reset. A clean slate. It’s not just higher in elevation — it’s higher for my soul. It lets me level up without being pulled down by ghosts of old roles, relationships, or reputations.
As a creative, you need that kind of space. A nest to build from. A place that protects your higher flight path — and doesn’t limit it. So choose your elevation wisely. Build your nest carefully. And above all: Stop trying to get pigeons to fly.
