Stuck in Second Gear

Life lately feels stuck in second gear—not stationary, but not flying forward either.

Which has made for a strange and curious blend of slow but productive, compressed and meandering, chaotic yet simple—amidst what’s been a half-hearted winter, balmy here in the Pacific Northwest, dropping hints of cold without fully committing.

During the short days and long nights, I’ve kept busy with my copywriting coaching inside FKSProlandia, crafting Whimsies, penning updates for Throttle & Tread, and building my soon-to-be-released writing bootcamp. Most days, I take a step or two forward with each of these different areas of focus—a few bricks added to each wall.

Setting projects aside, I’ve carved out rituals that anchor my weeks:

I’m hitting the gym on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, sweating out existential dread in the sauna on Fridays, and occasionally convincing myself to take a walk and soak up the crisp, fresh, cedar-scented air (though not nearly as often I’d like). 

My nights are peppered with editing whatever writing I worked on earlier in the day, chess matches—more casual than cutthroat—occasional Mario Kart showdowns on the Nintendo Switch, and trundling my way through my 23rd book of the year.

Then there are my feline companions, Yuki and Katsu (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3), whom I gained stewardship of this year. They don’t care about my projects or routines. Their demands for food, play, or pets are immediate and non-negotiable. The two of them seem convinced I exist solely to serve their whims, and I’m not sure they’re wrong.

All of this could easily be described as mundane, routine—a series of small tasks and responsibilities that fill up the hours, but don’t seem to lead anywhere spectacular. 

Yet there’s a certain kind of magic in the daily repetition, in how these small acts of life—caring for the cats, writing my next piece, honing my Mario Kart skills—seem simple and even meaningless, yet quietly foster growth.

I don’t mean growth in the grandiose, world-changing sense, but in the soft, slow way that ingrained habits and consistency applied over time work their quiet magic.

In the gym, I find myself growing stronger, larger, less pained…

My suite of projects may be far from complete, but are slowly taking shape…

My mind is sharpening with each chapter I read, each piece of writing I complete…

And my patience with Yuki is expanding, whose boundless energy could have me pulling my hair out—but instead, is teaching me the arts of presence and play.

This daily repetition, though unremarkable and even dull at first glance, quietly shapes my days in meaningful and productive ways.

This is the gift of routine.

Despite feeling stuck in second gear, I’m still moving, still evolving—and I’m realizing that life’s richest lessons often hide in mundane, unglamorous moments.

With love from the forest,

~ Alexander

(AKA: Wiz, WOW, and The Wizard of Wordcraft)