Just happy to be here. Grateful for this chance at life. It blows me away; autumn leaves cold breeze lucid light another flight around the world drops me home & I hit the road runnin’.

Today is all we have, but to do special things, we gotta play the long game — the contrast, the tension between being and becoming.

What does that mean?

Becoming means it doesn’t have to all happen now.

Being means right now, we must take action; in more subtle ways than we may think.

Today’s nothing but a chance to progress the plot.

Make a move, reach out, ask the question, face the fear, do the work.

Move the ball forward in whatever way possible and that shit will one day blossom from the daily, heartfelt steps; if you want your life to be different years from now, ask yourself: What can I do today?

Don’t give up.

I’m right there with you fam; I’m not giving up either.

Keep runnin’, and one day you’ll be amazed at just how far you’ve gone.

Life is so beautiful, even when it hurts.

Perhaps the most when it hurts.

When it doesn’t make sense we see the truth; reality — black birds and red trees, pink sky, love.

What are we? Bits and pieces of light and shadow, taking time to clarify.

It’s gonna take time; all of this. But I’m twenty eight, and the people I look up to didn’t fall from the sky in a cloud of perfection; they didn’t find success nor themselves overnight, and if we wanna do something special in this world, neither will we.

The person I long to be is out there. He says take it slow, lad.

Do what you can today, and fucking enjoy it. Because I miss those days, exactly where you are. I wish I didn’t know how it would all play out — but it does.

It’s gonna be just fine.

Life can be painful; that’s precisely why we must give it everything we have, to combat the pain, the suffering, the weight. Life can be so good.

The life I dream of living won’t come from handing over a clean cut resume; it isn’t wholly defined, as it often feels life must be.

That’s not the world — that isn’t us.

What I want derives not from steps of black and white but walks in the woods and the slick streets of misty dawns, where time has yet touched and normality sleeps.

That’s when I know myself, understood in the golden light of the rising sun.

What I want comes from jumping off the train at the wrong station, just to say hello; it’ll come from bold actions and persistence and never giving up, no matter how badly it hurts, or how dark the night seems, or how alone we may feel.

We’re all just people. People want to help more than we think.

What I want’s abnormal; that’s something we should all aspire to, because none of us are normal, carrying in the forest of our souls the blemishes of childhood and mysterious joys only we know, yet cast aside for fear of being different.

We seek a place to fit, when perhaps we should instead seek where we’d never dissolve, anonymous.

It hasn’t been and won’t be easy.

That’s what I love about this road.

I’ve sought this sort of life since graduating college, feeling lost; I’m aiming for a life of joy and meaning and purpose, where I could improve upon my skills and cultivate my interests, those I clarify each day.

I’m still figuring this shit out.

Steps forward will often feel like progress halted, a roadblock, a gut punch.

In that tension, our soul seeks to circumvent a challenge unforeseen — alchemy — turning pushback into progress, for our mind works harder to understand our aim; in that tension we may look to the night and the cold clear moon with greater longing.

That’s when I understand just who I really am.

That longing is the plot progressing, the fire of my spirit burning.

Being is gratitude, looking around at a world so beautiful, noticing how it makes you feel.

Becoming is doing something about it. Progress the plot, however slightly, in the story of your life. You’re meant for more than you think.