Your inbox pings. Another meeting jams your day. Joy feels like a stranger slipping out the back door.
But here’s the secret. A tiny spark waits. Five minutes. That’s all it takes to fan it into flame.
I wrestle with this daily. My game sits there, a half built rocket ship. Life keeps piling bricks on my chest. Yet those five minutes? They’re fuel.
Think of it like a hidden spring. Schedules roar like rivers, loud and fast. Dig past the noise. Sip from that quiet well. Every day.
My game isn’t just code and pixels. It’s me, whispering back to life. You’ve got one too. A sketch. A riff. A seed.
The world shoves us into boxes. Clock in, clock out. But those five minutes? They’re yours. Steal them.
Here’s the twist. What starts as a flicker grows. Joy isn’t a guest. It’s the house you build, brick by stolen brick.
One truth hums beneath it all. The smallest moves shift the earth. Not just for me, for you. The universe bends to five brave minutes.