We live in a world that seduces us with novelty. Every idea is a spark, and sparks are sexy — they light us up, make us feel alive. But staying? Holding? Seeing it through? That’s where the real work begins.

It’s not just distraction. It’s fear, too. Fear that we won’t be good enough. That the thing we’re making won’t match the vision we had when it first danced into our minds. So we pause. We drift. We open another tab. Start another project. Chase another glow.

And discipline — we think it means pushing harder. Forcing ourselves into a corner. But real discipline doesn’t scream. It listens. It sits. It makes space for the discomfort, the boredom, the doubt.

The art of finishing isn’t a war. It’s a return. A quiet, steady choosing. Again and again.

Come back.
To the page.
To the mat.
To the thing that chose you.

It’s waiting.