I just finished writing a new song called Live a Little. Actually, “finished” isn’t right — it’s more like I caught it, held it, let its edges settle. And now I’m writing this post while the dust is still in the air. My head’s been heavy — full of what I’m not, what’s next, what’s slipping by. I caught myself again tonight chasing tomorrow, bargaining with time. Then I stopped. And came back to the here and now. And Live a Little came.
This song is me breathing back into my body. It’s me saying:
We’re here right now
Not yesterday. Not tomorrow
Life is right here in the middle
I want this to be permission — for me, and for you — to unhook from the shoulds, unbind from the ornaments, stop chasing what’s outside. To lean into what’s right in front of you. Turn your face toward the table, toward the laughter, toward the gifts of the day you’re in.
I’m sending this into the world still warm, still pulsing. I hope it becomes a reminder when your head drifts ahead, when your heart forgets — that the only moment we truly own is this one. Live a little.