Dust-kissed wanderer walking the wild edge. Unlearning what tames & remembering what our bones have always known. Part mystic, part outlaw; moved by holy irreverence for what cages the human spirit.
They've taught you to account for every hour—to optimize, maximize, capitalize.
They've convinced you that time is money, that idle hands are dangerous, that your worth lives in
The river doesn't apologize for its pace. The oak doesn't justify its seasons. The wolf doesn't measure its worth in productivity metrics or quarterly goals.
And neither
When I mentioned to a friend recently that I was contemplating memento mori (the ancient practice of remembering one's mortality), she quickly responded, "Well, that's morbid." I
How do you reconcile building a thriving business with the grief of no longer doing the work that once gave you life? What if growth isn't always the goal? Is it possible to find your way back to the joy of your craft when achievement has led you away from creation?