Life is good.
I feel like I’ve learned a lot over the last few years, but I’m nowhere near at the bar I’ve set for myself. I’ve paid a pretty heavy price in certain arenas, but I’ve never believed regret to be a productive practice. Things have changed a lot for me recently, for the better. I feel like I’m in better health now than I’ve been in ages. I’ve found myself meditating a lot more consistently, a practice I hope to finally transform into a habit. I’m exercising consistently again. I’m paying greater mind to my nutrition. I feel spiritually stable, relationships are solid, and I’m in a really peaceful place all things considered.
I feel blessed, and I won’t take my blessings for granted. But when it comes to writing, I still don’t have an agent. I take it that means I need to work harder than I have. It’s a longer road than I ever intended, but there’s joy in the process. And I’m feeling happy.
I feel like I’ve caught some breaks lately, but it’s not always easy navigating life. The world’s such a stubborn place. Everything feels so rigid and unbending at times. Very unforgiving terrain. Sometimes you just need a release, before you dive back into finding your way.
Writing can set you free.