A Rational Argument to Be a Little Delulu

Delusion, Rick Rubin, pragmatism, dose of inspiration

I have been thinking about delusion for weeks now. It keeps cropping up in conversations, in what I’m reading, and in people I meet. Sometimes, we debate the merit of delusion; other times, I stand slack-jawed as someone clearly delusional tells me their grand plans. As I walk away, though, I start doubting my doubts about them. What if their delusion isn’t, well, so delusional? What if this frame of mind is actually the thing that will help them achieve what they say they will?

I’ve been wrestling with this thought while reading Rick Rubin’s The Creative Act: A Way of Being. I’ve been thumbing through the book for months, one short chapter at a time. I realized early on that reading it cover to cover would irritate me to no end. It grates on my realism and Eastern European pragmatism. I kept rolling my eyes. But as I closed the book yet again, I sighed and thought: What if he has a point? What if my need for proof, for planning, for knowledge is just as delusional as someone else’s leaps of logic?

My practical nature was instilled in me by my hardworking parents, grandparents, and culture. You just did the thing that needed to be done. Stop crying about it and get to work. But I do have a bohemian streak. I’ve built a nontraditional career. I moved across the country early in my relationship for my partner because I simply knew it was the right thing to do. I’ve taken my own leaps of faith, both personally and professionally.

Because I am who I am, I had to fact check my perception. Yes. We are a pessimistic bunch. If you want to read the paper you can download it here: https://www.researchgate.net/publication/266402741_The_Negative_Social_World_The_Polish_Culture_of_Complaining

But I tend to keep that side of me under wraps. Recently, I told my partner that I’m really good at trusting that things out of my control will work out—but I fret endlessly over the things within my control. My family is from Poland, and while some might call us pessimistic, I think we’re realists. Wars, regimes, and hard upbringings have shaped a culture that doesn’t like optimism. You’re expected to be realistic—or better yet, a pessimist.

Some of this ingrained pragmatism has helped me. I became a designer because it offered a practical career after university. In my mind, no one was ever going to hire an artist. I’d be poor, broke, and a disappointment to my parents, who moved us across the world for a “better life.” My dad and I now wonder: Perhaps we would’ve been fine staying in Poland—near family, with support, and speaking our language fluently.

Still, I’ve found myself fascinated by people who seem to lean fully into what I might call “delusional confidence.” I live with a behavioural epidemiologist—a fancy way of saying someone who studies behaviour and its impact on health. I asked him: Do delusional people just trust the universe more? Are they more willing to let “Jesus take the wheel” and keep it? It seemed plausible, but something was missing. Delusional people who are also successful still take action. They do the crazy thing that seems like a long shot. His response stuck with me: “They likely have a strong internal locus of control.”

People with an internal locus of control believe they’re responsible for their actions’ outcomes. They see success and failure as a result of their own efforts, decisions, or abilities. On the flip side, people with an external locus of control believe luck, fate, or other people are in control.

That’s when it clicked. I probably index high on internal control—often to my own detriment. When something doesn’t work out, I take 100% of the blame. When I see an opportunity, I sometimes hold back because if it isn’t perfect, I’ll see it as a personal failure. I often blame myself for things beyond my control.

This is where an important snowball effect comes in for our “delulu” friends: the confidence-competence loop. When someone has confidence, they take action—even when they aren’t fully prepared or skilled. You’ve likely seen peers who raise their hand for projects they aren’t ready for—the “fake it till you make it” crowd. But their confidence helps them make it. By accepting the task, they gain experience, improve their competence, and reinforce their confidence.

The opposite is also true. Someone lacking confidence keeps their hand down, misses the opportunity, and reinforces their belief in their inadequacy.

Henri Bergson said, “To exist is to change, to change is to mature, to mature is to go on creating oneself endlessly.” With this in mind, I’ve been wondering if I should let a little more delusion into my life. I’ve raised my hand for work opportunities, but how often have I kept my hand down when it comes to my big dreams or out-there ideas? I became a designer because “artists can’t make money.”

I don’t have a neat conclusion here. Writing helps me untangle these thoughts, and I’m still sorting through them. But the more I sit with them, the more I feel a pull to let a little more delusion into my life—not as a reckless leap, but as a deliberate experiment. What happens if I try taking more risks? What happens if I let myself trust a little more? Life keeps moving, and it’s our choice to change and mature along with it.

Maybe success really does come from a paradoxical cocktail: a strong belief in your agency, mixed with just enough delusional confidence to try things you’re not ready for, tempered by the wisdom to adapt. It’s ironic, yet remarkably effective.

Personal Work

Dose of Inspiration

A thought:

“Fortunately, some are born with spiritual immune systems that sooner or later give rejection to the illusory worldview grafted upon them from birth through social conditioning. They begin sensing that something is amiss, and start looking for answers. Inner knowledge and anomalous outer experiences show them a side of reality others are oblivious to, and so begins their journey of awakening. Each step of the journey is made by following the heart instead of following the crowd and by choosing knowledge over the veils of ignorance.”

― Henri Bergson

An image: Claude Monet and Impression, Sunrise, 1872

Monet’s painting Impression, Sunrise sparked the Impressionist movement, but not without backlash. Critics ridiculed the loose brushwork and focus on light over detail, coining the term “Impressionism” as an insult. Monet didn’t let this deter him. He leaned into the criticism, staying true to his vision of capturing fleeting moments in nature. Over time, the world caught up to him. Impression, Sunrise went from being mocked to being celebrated as a revolutionary piece of art history. Monet lived to see his work not just accepted, but revered.

A video (about a ballet riot): Igor Stravinsky and The Rite of Spring

When Stravinsky premiered The Rite of Spring in 1913, it caused a riot in the audience. People were outraged by the jarring dissonance, irregular rhythms, and raw, primal energy of the music and choreography. It was nothing like the polished, elegant ballets they expected. But Stravinsky didn’t back down. He believed in his work, even as it broke every rule of traditional composition. Over time, The Rite of Spring shifted from scandal to legend, now celebrated as a revolutionary masterpiece that forever changed the course of music and dance. Stravinsky’s “delusion” was just ahead of its time.

Hey, you made it to the end! Here's a little secret for you: this weekend, we went out to get our little Charlie Brown Christmas tree! It’s become a holiday tradition I absolutely cherish. We load up an audiobook, drive 30 minutes out of town, and head up the side of a mountain. Once we find a good spot, we pull over and wander up and down the road, peering into the tree stands. Other families pass by slowly, trees tied to their roofs, waving in camaraderie.

When we get the tree home, I bring out my food-themed decorations, and just like that, it feels like the holidays have arrived. Sparkly ceramic baguettes in a bag hang next to a shimmering oyster, while faux garlic cloves dangle delicately from the tips of our little tree. It’s cozy, and pure magic.