They changed my life, and I just love Marvel as I'm sure people

“They changed my life, and I just love Marvel as I'm sure people can tell from the amount of Easter eggs and references I did throughout it. But I just feel like I've done my part with 'Loki,' at least for now, and I'm excited to see where it goes next as a fan.” Thus spoke Kate Herron, the visionary director who brought to life the winding corridors of time and the broken heart of the trickster god in Loki. In these words lies the echo of both gratitude and letting go — the eternal lesson of every creator who must one day release their creation to the world. Herron speaks as an artist who has poured her soul into her craft, yet understands that no work belongs solely to its maker; it must live on, free and independent, in the minds of those who witness it.

Her words are tender and reverent. She does not speak of conquest or ownership, but of devotion. “They changed my life,” she says — an admission that creation, when true, changes the creator as much as the creation itself. To love one’s work deeply is to be transformed by it, for in shaping it, one’s own soul is also reshaped. Herron’s time with Loki was not merely a project of labor, but a journey of the spirit — one that took her through myth, morality, and emotion. It is as if she stood at the forge of imagination, tempered by fire and inspired by wonder, and emerged grateful, humbled, and whole.

When she speaks of the “Easter eggs and references,” she speaks of something more than clever details or hidden jokes. These small gifts — planted throughout the series — are the footprints of love, the markings of an artist leaving secret tokens for those who share her passion. It is the old tradition of the artisan, who carves his initials in the corner of a cathedral, or the composer who weaves his name into a melody — not to boast, but to whisper to future generations, “I was here, and I loved this.” Herron’s work is filled with these gestures — tributes to the great mythos of Marvel, and to the generations of dreamers who found meaning in its tales of heroes and gods.

But the heart of her quote lies in the line, “I’ve done my part... and I’m excited to see where it goes next as a fan.” Here is the mark of a true creator — the one who knows when to step away. The ancients spoke of this wisdom. The sculptor Pygmalion, after breathing life into his statue, could no longer shape it — for it had become something alive, something beyond his control. So too must every artist learn to release their work into the hands of time, trusting that others will continue the story. Herron’s humility in saying she now watches as a fan reflects the ancient virtue of detachment, the understanding that creation is an act of service, not possession.

There is a deeper beauty in her sentiment — the transformation from creator to witness. Once, she was the weaver at the loom; now, she joins the audience, to marvel at the tapestry as it continues to unfold without her. This humility — this surrender — is the purest form of love. For to love something truly is to allow it to grow beyond oneself. The Greek philosophers knew this as metanoia — the turning of the soul, the acceptance that every ending is also a beginning. Herron’s journey with Loki has ended, but her wonder has not; it has only changed form.

The lesson in her words, then, is clear: create with passion, but release with grace. When your time in a story is done — whether in work, in love, or in life’s great undertakings — let go without regret. Do not cling to what you have made; celebrate that it exists. Be grateful for the time you were its keeper, but allow it to walk its own path. Just as Herron now becomes a fan of her own creation, so must we learn to rejoice when others carry forward what we began. This is how all things endure — not through ownership, but through renewal.

Therefore, O seeker of wisdom, take this truth to heart: when you pour your soul into something — a craft, a dream, a bond — let it change you, but do not hold it captive. Creation is an act of love, not control. Like Herron, give your best, leave your mark, and when the time comes, step aside with joy to watch what you have built continue to grow. For this is the rhythm of the universe itself: creation, transformation, and release. And in that sacred cycle, both the artist and the art are made eternal.