Refusing to Creep: The Call to Soar
Created at: August 24, 2025
One can never consent to creep when one feels an impulse to soar. — H. G. Wells
The Refusal That Begins Ascent
At its core, the line is a declaration of dignity: when we sense our capacity expanding, we cannot in good conscience shrink to fit smaller expectations. “Creeping” names the habits of safety, conformity, and self-doubt; “soaring” evokes courage, curiosity, and purposeful risk. The statement doesn’t celebrate recklessness, but rather integrity—living up to an inner standard once it has revealed itself. As soon as a truer horizon comes into view, consent to crawl becomes a kind of self-betrayal. To see why this impulse resonates so widely, it helps to trace both its origins and the human dynamics that keep it alive.
Authorship, Era, and Misattribution
Though often misattributed to H. G. Wells, the sentence appears in Helen Keller’s The Story of My Life (1903), where she links learning to a felt imperative to rise. The confusion persists because Wells, too, championed human advancement—see his lecture-essay The Discovery of the Future (1902), which urges bold imagination. Both voices emerged from an era electrified by invention and reform, when the Wright brothers were testing wings and suffragists were recasting public life. In that shared climate, the line’s ethos—refusal to accept the cramped and customary—feels unmistakably modern. Recognizing Keller’s authorship matters not to scold, but to honor the lived defiance behind the words.
Motivation Science Behind the Impulse
Psychologically, the quote maps onto approach motivation: we move toward valued possibilities once they feel attainable. Self-determination theory (Deci and Ryan, 2000) shows that autonomy, competence, and relatedness fuel this movement; when these needs are met, hesitancy gives way to action. Likewise, Carol Dweck’s Mindset (2006) argues that embracing growth redirects failure from threat to feedback, converting “creeping” caution into upward traction. And in Flow (Csikszentmihalyi, 1990), the sweet spot between challenge and skill produces buoyant attention—a mental updraft. Put simply, the felt “impulse to soar” is not fantasy; it is a physiological and cognitive signal that conditions are ripe for stretch. Aligning with that signal is less gamble than stewardship of emerging ability.
Vignettes of Soaring in Action
History offers crisp snapshots. Denied flight training in the United States, Bessie Coleman learned French, sailed abroad, and earned her pilot’s license in 1921—the first Black and Native American woman to do so. Her aerial shows were more than spectacle; they modeled a path where none existed. Similarly, the Wright brothers’ 1903 Kitty Hawk flights followed years of disciplined tinkering, wind-tunnel tests, and quiet failures—proof that soaring is engineered, not conjured. Even Keller’s own public advocacy—lecturing, writing, and organizing—demonstrated how intellectual independence becomes civic lift. These stories underline a pattern: the impulse is the spark, but sustained practice is the oxygen that keeps the flame aloft.
Turning Aspiration into a Flight Plan
Consequently, honoring the impulse means designing experiments that convert vision into velocity. Begin by defining a clear, valuable stretch—ambitious enough to quicken attention, specific enough to guide effort. Next, iterate in small, safe-to-fail cycles, so data replaces doubt. Mentors and peer communities serve as thermals, providing feedback and shared lift. Meanwhile, risk management—runway funds, contingency plans, boundaries—keeps courage from hardening into bravado. Over time, these practices create a virtuous loop: progress validates the impulse, which renews motivation, which funds further progress. In that cadence, soaring ceases to be a metaphor and becomes a method.
Soaring Together, Expanding the Sky
Ultimately, the highest flights carry others. Keller’s activism for disability rights and education illustrates how personal ascent can widen public access. In the same spirit, Malala Yousafzai’s 2013 UN address framed her schooling not as private achievement but as a universal right—so one person’s wings become a draft that helps many rise. Even Wells’s futurism imagined social designs where collective uplift accelerates individual potential. Thus the refusal to creep matures into responsibility: build ladders as you climb, share maps as you explore, and leave thermals where you found turbulence. When we do, the sky doesn’t fill up; it expands.