Wherever I am, I lift.
I write.
I pay attention to the world around me.
Not to hit a number or track a goal,
not to impress,
but to stay inside my body.
To stay awake. Alert. Alive.
It’s how I work.
I don’t wait for inspiration.
I move. I go forward with or without it.
Sometimes with a pen,
sometimes just by walking long enough to hear my own thoughts again.
I don’t need the perfect desk, the perfect light, the perfect community to write.
I just need to stay close to myself.
Call it practice.
Call it rhythm.
Call it remembering who I am.
