Dear friend,

A few weeks ago, I sat in the living room of my Airbnb in France, watching the cursor blink on an empty page.

For months, I told myself work was the reason I wasn't writing.

Now I was unemployed. No meetings. No deadlines. Just timeeverything I thought I needed.

And yet, writing felt just as hard.

Which forced me to confront an uncomfortable question: Do I really want to writeor just like imagining myself as someone who does?

Most of us have something like this a calling, or at least the idea of one. Something that feels tied to a meaningful life.

But if we keep finding reasons to avoid it, what does that say?

Unstructured timewhether a few idle hours or months of unemployment has a way of telling the truth.

In the grind, it's easy to say, "I'll do that when I have moretime, energy, money."

Lately, I've wondered if that beliefthat I'll be more capable lateris just a story I like telling myself.

I've started calling it .

What if I'm not on a steady climb at all? What if I drift downwardtoward ease, toward comfortunless I fight for something higher?

Every day, I'm casting a vote for who I'll become. And when I put something off, it doesn't feel neutralit feels like I'm teaching myself it's not important.

The opposite is true too: one small act today makes the next one easier.

Like a rocket burning most of its fuel to get off the ground, the hardest part is starting. But if I can break through, momentum will help carry me forward.

Maybe what matters most is not what we say we want, but what our days keep revealing.

Maybe saying I want to be a writer matters far less than writingeven for five minutes.

What would you change if you believed this: that what you do today is what you'll keep doing for the rest of your life?

A meaningful life rarely appears overnight. More often, it’s the result of quiet courage repeated every daysitting down to do the thing, even when gravity fights you all the way.

I close the laptop now. Not because I've solved anything, but because I want to write again tomorrow.

I hope you’re well.

With love,
Ryan