“A champion is someone who gets up when they can’t.”
– Jack Dempsey
Dear friends,
It is fight week. On Sunday, I am back in the studio to record two new songs.
In the world I wish it to be, the songs would be long-ready. In the world, as it is, I am in a dogfight to get them to the starting line.
Nonetheless, it continues my resolution this year—that I will show up for my musical life regardless of my readiness.
Actually, this is a mistruth.
Rather, I'm living up to past decisions made by my foolish former self.
He booked the studio, knowing it would upend my routines, personal life, and professional commitments.
As you get older, your responsibilities compound.
Trying to live up to them—especially to be someone others can rely on—can become the altar upon which dreams are sacrificed.
The question is then: how do we safeguard those dreams in a world that constantly seeks our attention?
As a boxing fan, I draw from fighters.
First, a fight is booked, and a date is set. Second, they enter "camp," where life becomes defined by the task. Third, they show up.
Here’s the thing: as creatives, we often avoid the pressure of fight night.
We “stay in the process” rather than committing to a day of reckoning.
But you can’t stay in camp forever. As Goethe put it, talent is nurtured in the room, character in the stormy billows of the world.
The message is clear: talent alone decays.
It needs tested.
Nothing wears down the creative spirit more than living in endless drift.
Yes, things take time. That’s why fight camp is 12 weeks long.
You need to don the gloves.
To get uncomfortable.
To spar.
And then fight night comes, and its violent poetry is that either you or your opponent will hit the canvas.
That’s how it feels going to the studio.
You risk yourself to make your legacy work.
What you record will echo into forever and be etched into time.
These are the moments when you are defined.
And to bring out the best in you, you must have that conversation with the fires.
I’m going through it this week, believe me.
Last week, one of my peers had their DOP pull out of their short film and asked me to step in. I’d planned to dedicate that weekend to songwriting but ended up shooting the film. It was great to be involved and it gave me great joy to help a project on the ropes.
But come Monday morning, my demons came to roost.
I realised that the only way to get myself over the line was to surrender utterly to the process.
And so, some days later, as I write this, I have blistered fingers from days of electric guitar.
The songs are coming.
But they are still not ready.
And this is my whole point.
You are never ready.
You will never have everything prepared as you hope.
Conditions will be against you.
But you can show up, irrespective of the fates.
And in showing up, you will find an opportunity;
The opportunity to get to know yourself in a new way.
You will have to dig deeper than you’ve ever had to before.
But by pushing beyond what you believed to be possible, your shadow spirit will emerge.
That is when the song arrives.
That is when the knockout blow is delivered.
Elixirs aren’t given out freely.
You have to enter the championship rounds to deserve them.
To get so deep into the fight that it goes beyond conditioning, preparation, and the gym.
That is where you find your core:
The human heart.
I am going into the studio despite my uncertainty, nerves, and doubt.
Yes, you risk failure.
But failure is synonymous with finding the best in yourself.
And success and failure are linked like Siamese twins.
Lose courage for one, and the other doesn’t show.
I know that we aspire to a state of peace, and believe me, in weeks like this, I wonder -
Why the hell do you do it to yourself?
But then I think of Muhammad Ali.
“I hated every minute of training, but I said, ‘Don’t quit. Suffer now and live the rest of your life as a champion.'”
– Muhammad Ali,
But for me, the championship is less material.
I am in awe at both boxers as they get in the ring.
They provoke me to ask:
Am I getting into the ring of life?
That is what I live for.
Whether my hands are aloft or my head hits the canvas:
That is what I live for.
And so I ask you:
Are you getting into the ring of life?
Jim
Presure is good for creativity. Point. You can’t loose it, it‘s there. Just close your eyes, stop listening and go back to your kitchen when you heard this one great melodie while you were cooking… Right?!
I am not into boxing, unlike you Jamie, but l think using it as an analogy for creative pursuits & fighting for what you want to achieve, no matter how hard it is, is really apt.🥊 Thanks for the inspirational & personal insights!✨🙏😘