There’s Enough Air for All of Us

I never thought success was in short supply.

It honestly surprised me today to hear that some people do, that they see it as something rationed, like oxygen in a sealed room.

It made me stop and think about why I’ve never felt that way. Maybe because creating has always felt like breathing. You take something in, you put something out. The act itself gives you more air, not less.

Maybe that’s why it surprised me, because scarcity feels real when your system’s still braced for survival. It’s hard to believe in abundance if you’ve spent years short of breath.

When you’re doing the work that actually belongs to you, ideas come easier. The world feels bigger. You stop scanning the room for proof of your worth and start feeling it in your bones.

Maybe you’ve felt that too, watching someone rise and wondering what it means for you.

The chaser fears, “If you rise, there’s less air for me.”

But the creator knows, “When you rise, you stir the wind beneath us all.”

I was reminded of that while watching Dolly Parton talk with Reese Witherspoon, sitting at a kitchen table like two women who’ve already seen the whole mountain and know there’s room for everyone to climb. Dolly spoke with that effortless generosity of someone who’s never needed to compete for air. She laughed, nodded, and said something to that effect, not about competition at all, but about abundance. The gist of the conversation was simple: there’s enough success to go around.

She’s proof you can be iconic without being territorial. You can make room for others and somehow end up with more light. She doesn’t compete for breath; she fills the room with it.

Maybe that’s why competition feels so fierce, because those who haven’t found their creative current can’t feel the air move yet. When you’re disconnected from your own source, it’s easy to believe someone else’s wind is stealing yours. People sometimes tell me they aren’t creative, but I don’t think there are “non-creatives.” I think everyone can move the air — just in different ways. Some through words, some through care, through structure, through beauty, through problem-solving. Creation wears many faces.

We were raised in a system that worships first place.

Gold medals. Top marks. One promotion. One bestseller. One seat at the table.

Somewhere along the way, we learned to measure worth by winning — and winning meant someone else had to lose.

 

But what if you built your own race?

No race at all, really. Just you, creating your own motion.

A rhythm that widens the track every time you move.

That’s what true creators do. They stop running toward someone else’s trophy and start crafting their own terrain. They design work that can’t be compared, because it’s entirely their own.

That’s why Dolly still feels so free. She’s not chasing charts; she’s tending an empire of her own making. The music, the laughter, the giving — all part of a life that refuses to shrink to fit someone else’s scoreboard.

 

So maybe the way forward isn’t to run faster.

It’s to step off the track, find your breath, and make your own race.

What would your race look like?

I’m Megan “Making My Own” Lane.