Writings · Musings
Short, informal pieces, written without a framework attached.
Courage rarely turns up on schedule. There was a door I stood in front of last year and did not walk through. I told myself it was timing.
This year I walked through a different one, and I realised the first door had not closed on me at all. It was waiting for me to become someone who could carry what was on the other side.
I used to read my hesitation as cowardice. Now I think some of it was just roots.
My head is rarely quiet. It runs drafts: the email I have not sent, the sentence I would say better, the version of me from a meeting three years ago.
I used to think the goal was to silence it. Lately I think the goal is to give it somewhere to put things. A notebook. A poem. A walk without a podcast.
The noise does not leave. It just stops being the only thing in the room.
I did not fall in love with marketing. I fell in love with the moment a person reads a sentence and feels understood.
Everything else, the frameworks, the funnels, the dashboards, is scaffolding built around that moment. On my worst days I forget that.
On my best days I remember that people fall in love with the feeling of being seen exactly where they were struggling.
If one of these sounded like you, I would like to hear it.