“Before I led my team out on the court, I did what I always did that year: I lifted the Wilson Special I held in my hands and put it up to my face to inhale its delicious odor. The smell was the sacred fragrance of my boyhood, the distilled essence of the thing that made me most happy when I was growing up.”

“My Losing Season” by Pat Conroy, page 295

Don’t forget to stop, smell and savor; to breathe in deeply the essence of your passion; to rekindle the childlike sense of play present in the execution of your toil; to cling to your ultimate motivations.

Whether it’s the smell of pine tar, the click of a cold boot into a once-barren binding, the swoosh of a pole rebounding into the next phase or the sight of fresh tracks, remember the “distilled essence” of YOUR thing, whatever it is. Soak in the sweet fragrances, the magical sounds, the awe-inspiring sights surrounding your sport, your song, your story. Savor in the stillness of the invisible qualities, that unexplainable source of love, just like you knew it as a little boy or girl.