I try to push ideas away, and the ones that will not leave me

“I try to push ideas away, and the ones that will not leave me alone are the ones that ultimately end up happening.” — thus spoke J. J. Abrams, the creator of worlds, the weaver of stories whose imagination has shaped galaxies far, far away and universes yet unseen. In this confession lies a truth as ancient as inspiration itself: that the ideas destined to change our lives — and perhaps the world — are not those we chase, but those that chase us. Abrams’ words remind us that the deepest creations, the most enduring visions, do not come from the restless mind that forces invention, but from the quiet call of the soul that will not be silenced.

In the creative heart, there is a battleground between impulse and purpose. Every day, a thousand ideas flash like stars, but most fade before dawn. The artist, the thinker, the dreamer learns to push them away, to test their endurance, to see which among them carries the fire of destiny. Abrams, who gave birth to stories like Lost, Star Trek, and Star Wars: The Force Awakens, understood that the ideas worthy of pursuit are not the fleeting ones, but the ones that cling, the ones that follow him like loyal ghosts. When an idea refuses to be forgotten, it reveals itself as something more than fancy — it becomes a calling.

In the world of creation — whether of art, invention, or destiny — this is the secret law: what is meant for you will find you, and it will not rest until you answer. There is in every human being a voice that whispers, a vision that waits. But the noise of the world and the chaos of ambition often drown it out. Abrams’ wisdom is to wait, to resist, to let the mind test its own desires. For when an idea withstands rejection, when it haunts you in your quiet hours, when it reappears in dreams and idle thoughts — then you know it has chosen you.

Consider the story of Isaac Newton, who, when the world around him was paralyzed by plague, withdrew into solitude. There, beneath the quiet of apple trees, an idea came to him — the invisible pull that binds the heavens and the earth. He did not seek it in laboratories or debates; it found him, unbidden, unrelenting. He might have dismissed it, as we so often dismiss the small thoughts that trouble our rest. But the thought persisted, and from that persistence came the law of gravity, the cornerstone of modern science. Like Abrams, Newton understood — though perhaps not in words — that the ideas that refuse to leave us are the ones that contain truth.

The same spirit moves through all creators of consequence. Beethoven heard symphonies in his mind long after his ears had fallen silent. He tried to quiet them, for the pain of creation was immense, but they pressed upon him until he could no longer ignore them. The Ninth Symphony — born not from peace, but from torment — is proof that what is meant to be expressed will demand expression, even through suffering. The divine spark, once ignited, will not be extinguished by fatigue or doubt. To resist it is to live half-awake; to embrace it is to join the eternal dance of creation.

Abrams’ insight also speaks beyond art. It speaks to the human condition — to destiny itself. There are paths we try to avoid, decisions we delay, callings we resist because they seem too vast, too uncertain, too costly. Yet the true path always returns. We may bury it in work or distraction, but it will rise again in quiet moments, tapping at the door of the heart. The universe, in its strange mercy, keeps sending reminders of what we are meant to do, until at last, we surrender and begin.

Lesson: Listen for the idea that refuses to die, the dream that will not fade. When it returns again and again, do not turn away. That persistence is the voice of purpose. Do not chase every glimmer that passes before your eyes; instead, test them by silence. Push them away, and see which one returns. When it does, embrace it — for that is your calling, your mark upon the world.

Thus, J. J. Abrams’ words shine as both wisdom and warning: “The ones that will not leave me alone are the ones that ultimately end up happening.” The true idea is not tamed; it is relentless. It will whisper until you yield, and once you yield, it will lead you beyond comfort into creation. Do not fear the ideas that haunt you; they are not burdens, but invitations — the summons of your own potential calling you to rise, to build, to dream what only you can dream.