You just have to trust your instincts and hope that if someone

Hear the words of Bryan Singer, spoken as counsel for all who labor in the realm of creation: “You just have to trust your instincts and hope that if someone doesn’t like your idea, you can prove them wrong in the final process. In the end, you can please some of the people some of the time, but that’s about all you can do.” Within this statement lies not only the heart of an artist but the timeless struggle of every man or woman who has ever dared to bring forth something new. For the path of creation is lonely, filled with doubt, and yet lit by the flame of inner conviction—an instinct that whispers truth even when the world cries false.

The meaning is layered and enduring. Singer declares that one cannot live or create shackled by the approval of others. No matter how noble or brilliant an idea, there will always be critics, skeptics, and doubters. To bow to all of them is to suffocate the spark within. But to trust your instincts, to walk forward in faith, is to honor the voice of the soul that knows what it was born to bring forth. And though the world may resist, the final proof rests not in debate, but in the fruit of the work itself.

The origin of such wisdom comes from the artist’s battlefield. Singer, as a filmmaker, worked in an industry filled with competing visions, heavy pressures, and countless voices telling him what should or should not be done. In such a world, compromise is inevitable, but surrender is fatal. His words reflect the resilience of the creator who listens to advice but is not enslaved by it, who endures criticism but is not crushed by it, and who accepts that universal approval is impossible. To please “some of the people some of the time” is the measure of reality—but to create at all is the measure of courage.

History testifies to this same struggle. Consider Vincent van Gogh, who painted with fire in his soul but received only scorn and poverty in his life. His instincts drove him to create what no one around him valued. Yet in the end, the world saw what he had always known: that his vision was true. His critics were silenced not by argument, but by the enduring power of his art. Like Singer’s teaching, van Gogh’s story reminds us that the vindication of instinct often comes in the final process, when time reveals the worth of what was made.

Or think of the Wright brothers, mocked and dismissed as dreamers when they toiled with their strange machines of wood and cloth. They too faced doubters, skeptics, and jeers. But they trusted their instincts, kept building, kept testing, until at last the air yielded to them, and man took flight. Their victory was not in persuading every critic but in proving with action what words could not. Their story mirrors Singer’s wisdom: trust, endure, create—and let the outcome speak louder than doubt.

The lesson is for all who walk the path of creation or conviction. Do not paralyze yourself seeking to please everyone, for such a task is impossible and will only drain the spirit. Instead, seek to be faithful to the vision planted within you. Listen to others, but do not be ruled by them. When doubt arises, remember that only the finished work, lived and completed, can silence criticism or vindicate faith. Instinct, guided by perseverance, becomes the compass through storms of uncertainty.

Therefore, let this teaching be etched upon your heart: when you are called to create, to lead, to speak, or to act, do not wait for perfect approval. Trust yourself, labor with heart, and know that your task is not to please all, but to remain true to the vision entrusted to you. In the end, only some will applaud, others will resist—but if you have remained faithful, your work will stand. And in its standing, it will speak with a voice stronger than all the doubts that sought to silence it.