When you decide to go big and push at the creative ceilings built above you, those ceilings are going to push back. It's basic physics, really: whatever we try to break through will resist us breaking through it because it doesn't want to be broken. That ceiling wants to say lodged in place because it's grown accustomed to being there, and let's be honest, we've become comfortable sitting under it.
Even if the ceiling is something as metaphysical as a creative boundary we've allowed to be built around or above us, resistance will certainly show itself when we try to break through those boundaries because that's what happens when we try and take a new and dangerous idea and make it materialize.
Breakers will blow. Production pieces will fall apart. Print materials will show up late. Work will seem rushed and scattered. What it takes to hit a deadline will seem too massive to hit that deadline. Stress about working with new ideas in new territories will loom in the fronts and backs of our minds. Sleepless nights will haunt us. All of these little creative resistors, and more, will most defiantly push back at when we try to push through them because it's much easier to just do what we've done before.
But we shouldn't do what we've done before. No, we shouldn't. We should keep pushing at that ceiling until it bursts and breaks and explodes into a million pieces so that we can land ourselves in new territory; creative territory where we didn't think we'd ever find ourselves in, but nevertheless, are in. Because that is the beauty of excellent creativity when executed with a will to burst through a ceiling. It's the will to resist the resistance we encounter when we try something new and push ourselves deeper because that's when the best stuff is made and shared.
Art: we run and we jump until that ceiling is broken and something beautiful is made.
That ceiling above you? It's waiting for you to pick a fight with it.