Old Muscle Memory

I had an interesting day yesterday. It almost felt like stepping backward into an older version of my life — and, unexpectedly, I liked it.

I swapped my training gear for filming gear and shot a small project for a friend. Simple. At least, that’s how it felt. Like pulling on an old glove. Familiar. Comfortable. For the first time in a long while, I was doing something instinctively, without thinking, operating at a level my body remembers even when my mind has moved on.

I enjoyed it more than I expected. Enough to make me wonder why I’ve done so little of it over the past few years. I like creating. I’m good at it. And it’s still good work.

I think the issue has been mindset. Somewhere along the way, I started judging the current state of the industry — the scale, the noise, the compromises. That judgment clouded my view and, without realising it, closed off opportunities that were still there.

If I love creating, then the scale shouldn’t matter. The budget shouldn’t matter. What matters is the act itself — the privilege of doing it at all.

That thought lingers uncomfortably. It makes me wonder where else I might be looking forward with the same kind of judgment I’ve been applying to the past. If I’ve been missing opportunities there, how many am I quietly stepping around now?

Creation is creation. Whether it’s small or large. Whether it’s paid well or barely at all. If I’m honest with myself, that equality feels like the cleanest way forward.

Then it was time to train.

There are days scattered through this journey when I catch myself watching the younger students with a flicker of envy. And by younger, I mean anyone under forty. Maybe it’s just Friday talking. By the end of the week I’m tired — not beaten, just worn.

I’m not the dead horse.
I’m the one pushing it.

And today, the weight was noticeable.