I’d be lying if I said that I’d done what I set out to do.
To write something that was worth this space.
Instead, I’m holding the practice out before the quality of
any given thing. I’m making myself do the thing so I can
keep a promise. A promise that holds a longer, deeper
meaning — a meaning that is rooted in purpose.
The promise here is embedded in the heart. The purpose
the meaning that’s made of that promise. The practice
a means to an end, as well as an end. The journey.