Batting Cages & Long Roads
A thought on movement 💭
The machine clicks. A hum, then the sphere. A yellow blur coming for your doubt.
No room for the ego, no room for the fear. Just the rhythm of swinging the static out.
And then there is road: a long, grey line. The breath becomes steady, the mind turns clear.
No need for the “new,” no need for a sign. Only the work that remains when the noise disappears.
Sixty feet or sixty miles, there is a lesson.
It’s not what you chase, but the way you work for it.
