If you feel called to, here's a newsletter I wrote about it :)

Growth then, isn't optional—it's the price of admission to the sweetest rewards.

Some use poles. Others climb. Some run to catch what falls.

Every dream has its harvest season, but only those willing to climb differently ever taste that golden fruit. Your old self created the dream, but your evolved self executes it.

Perhaps then, the children harvesting mangoes here show what it takes to reach anything worthwhile:

Different approaches for different heights.
Different means for different sights.

The person who played guitar for hours? He had to step aside for someone who listens to music while working.

The person who dived into video games all night? Now, he watches Youtube videos of playthroughs during meals, savoring stories in bite-sized pieces.

As I was busy slurping some Chicken Macaroni Soup for breakfast, I wanted to take the time to introspect and perhaps interpret Nepsy's sculpture in my current circumstance.

Pursuing my dream of the $1M Expedition required becoming someone new.

"Sungkit Mangga"—children reaching for mangoes with long poles, climbing curved branches, and holding baskets full of that golden fruit.

As I sluggishly went down from my hotel room to eat breakfast, I wanted to take a picture to commemorate my 3rd day of waking up that early in a row.

I decided to take a picture of this beautiful brass and stone sculpture made by Nepsy Dela Pena.

I FORGOT THE PICTURE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH—

P.S. Sometimes you need to leave your usual space to remember who you really are as a creator. Try hotel rooms or go touch grass~ They make excellent labs for introspection.

The closer your creations mirror who you truly are and what you like, the more powerfully you’ll attract people who genuinely want to connect with that person.

Your voice isn’t wrong. It just needs the right room to echo in.

But here’s what hit me today: Every writing strategy is correct for someone.

Polarizing hooks attract one tribe.
Story-driven hooks magnetize another.

The “rightest” way to write isn’t about universal principles—it’s about your authentic voice finding its matching audience.

I want stories.
Sensory images.
Vivid descriptions that paint entire worlds in my head.

I’m currently re-reading “The Godsfall Chronicles” for the third time, studying techniques I plan to teach in the Artist Skill Tree someday.

Not just my location—my perspective. I found myself asking: “What kind of writing do I actually want to read?”

Not what performs well.
Not what gets engagement.
What moves me.

The answer surprised me.

The unfamiliar walls.
The different light streaming through foreign windows.
The way my laptop sits on a desk that isn’t mine.

Something shifted.