I’m nursing a a case of the flu as I write this. It’s not a knockout punch, but it’s landed a few solid hits. Combine that with the relentless snowstorm we’ve been dealing with, and this weekend, all I wanted to do was stay in, wrapped in a blanket, doing nothing.

So, on Saturday, that’s exactly what I did. Hours of TV (catching up on Suits), scrolling social media, and basically melting into the couch. But by the end of the day, I felt… off. Heavy. Like I had been motionless for too long.

Still, I told myself it was fine. I was sick, after all. I deserved rest.

Then Sunday rolled around. Same flu, same sluggishness, but a small craving for movement crept in. I shovelled some snow, broke a sweat, and came back inside. Still, I felt antsy.

I needed to make a run to the pharmacy, so I decided to grab my camera and take that walk. After all, this was my first real snowstorm, and we got our fair share—our car’s still buried as I write this. So, I bundled up—layers, gloves, the whole winter getup—and stepped outside.

The moment I put the camera up to my eye and snapped my first photo, something shifted. I immediately slowed down. The overcast sky diffused the light perfectly, and every little thing—from the buried cars to the way branches bowed under the weight of snow—felt worth capturing.

“How’s it going?” I said to an older gentleman shovelling the sidewalk in front of his home.

“Ah, you know. Just living the dream,” he said with a bright smile.

At first, I thought he was being sarcastic, but then I noticed the twinkle in his eye. Maybe he wasn’t being sarcastic at all. Maybe he was genuinely happy. And that made me smile. Winter was exhausting, but damn, it was beautiful too.

I made it to the pharmacy, took a different route home, and swapped lenses to see the world through another perspective. When I finally walked through my front door, I felt lighter.

I told Lei about the little moments—the interesting conversations with strangers, the crisp silence of snow-covered streets. And now, as I sit down to write, I realize how much that walk gave me.

I used to think I needed to travel to exciting places to create. That real stories, real inspiration, existed somewhere else. Sometimes, I still fall into that trap, sitting in my apartment, thinking I need to go back home to reignite my creativity. But the truth is, it’s not about where I am.

Wherever you go, there you are.

I heard that line in a song once, and it kinda stuck. Wherever you go, there you are – I can’t run away from who I am! If I’m the guy who finds reasons not to create, then it doesn’t matter where I am—I’ll always find an excuse. But if I choose to embrace creativity, then inspiration is everywhere.

So, more of that. More of me finding ways to create, no matter where I am. More of me stepping outside, even when it feels easier to stay in.

Maybe you’re like me. Maybe you’re waiting for the perfect place, the perfect moment, to start. But maybe, just maybe, the perfect moment is right now.

So, I’ll keep stepping outside, even when the couch calls my name. And maybe you should too.

Catch you later, Friend.

Damion