I Live in a Bubble

Dear Artist,

There is a lot happening in the world right now. War. Politics. Rising costs. Fear. Uncertainty. There are real reasons to feel overwhelmed, discouraged, and even hopeless.

And somehow, despite all of it, I still feel hopeful.

Not the passive kind of hope where we sit around, cross our fingers, and wait for the universe to fix everything. I’m talking about the kind of hope that begins in the heart. The kind that believes possibility is still alive, that you are good, your gifts matter, and life can still surprise you in beautiful ways.

For a moment, I felt guilty about that hope. I wondered if I was naive, oblivious, or living inside some carefully protected bubble.

And then I realized something.

Hell yes, I live in a bubble.

I designed this bubble. I worked hard for this bubble. I filled it with hope, joy, play, love, creativity, and possibility. And I’m damn proud of it.

Because the energy we live inside shapes what we believe is possible. It shapes what we write, what we make, what we share, and whether we keep creating when the world gives us plenty of reasons to stop.

This week’s podcast is about protecting the inner world where your ideas, your courage, and your joy can thrive.

• What if living in a bubble is not the problem, but one of your greatest creative powers?

• How to stay open, hopeful, and creatively alive without pretending the world is not heavy

• Why the reality you build around yourself may determine which ideas you bring to life and which ones never leave your notebook

• What happens to your creativity when fear, outrage, and other people’s urgency are constantly shaping your inner world

• A guided meditation to help you build a bubble around yourself filled with hope, joy, and possibility

Think of something you are nervous to create, share, begin, or bring into the world.

Now write as if it has already happened, and you absolutely crushed it.

“Wow, I am so proud of the courageous post I just published.”

“Wow, I loved the talk I gave last night.”

“Wow, I finally shared the idea I have been sitting on for months.”

“Wow, I launched the thing, and it went beautifully.”

Write from the day after. Describe what happened, how it felt, and the moments that made you feel proud, alive, and confident.

This is a practice in hope.

Not passive hope. Not crossing your fingers and waiting for something magical to happen. This is you choosing, even for a few minutes, to place your attention on the possibility that things could go well. That you could be supported. That your courage could lead somewhere beautiful.

We are playing here. Do not let Resistance convince you that you are doing it wrong. There is no wrong way to do this.

You’re allowed to have fun with this. :)

You do not need to know exactly how everything will unfold.

You do not need proof that your idea will work, that people will understand it, or that the thing you are building will become what you hope it can become.

Sometimes hope is simply your willingness to take one more step before the evidence arrives.

Write the post. Send the email. Share the idea. Make the invitation. Begin the thing.

Protect the part of you that still believes something beautiful is possible.

Then let that part lead.

Big love,

D

If you want space, guidance, and accountability to write every week, come join us inside the Writers Club.

You’ll leave each week with fresh words on the page, more courage in your body, and more clarity about what you’re here to say.

There’s also a bonus workshop every week to help you write with more courage, clarity, and momentum.

You can browse past workshops inside the Members’ Library.

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