It is said that a magician is his own worst enemy, and a victory over one's self is the greatest victory. I'm finding this maxim to be more and more true. After realizing that my habit of playing a certain game is devouring most of my spare time and life energy, with little to no reward for the price I pay, I have decided to quit the activity.

Yet as I come in from my walk this morning, the urge to go back to the old habitual ways is staggering, to the point where I almost convinced myself that playing the game more is what I want (what I really want deep down) so I should do it because to deny that want would be unnatural. Then I remember how I end up feeling after hours and hours of the inane activity, and I keep that first-hand experience ever in mind as my conscious focus to resist the inertia of habit.

Today I intend to embark on building up a different kind of momentum, the momentum of cranking the wheel of creativity up in order to get it used to spinning and hopefully to refine its spinning into a more perfect state. Yesterday I resolved to clean and create, and today I have to make good on that resolve or else what good is the power of my will to bring things into existence? If I cannot state a purpose of something so simple as to clean my space and write a story and then follow through, then I must admit that I am not cut out for the Great Work of magic, because nearly every single ritual begins in just that same method.