David

What Will You Leave Behind?

People ask, “What did you do today?”
And too often, the answer is:

I answered some emails. I liked a post. I scrolled. I blinked—and the day was gone.

We live in the age of small gratifications. Instant dopamine. Cheap thrills.
Another hit, another scroll, another ping.

But when was the last time you made something that might still matter tomorrow?

Since the age of 20, I’ve wanted to stand in front of David.
Not the biblical David. The statue.

I first read about it in The War of Art by Steven Pressfield—my favourite book.
He describes Michelangelo’s genius not as invention, but as removal.
David, he writes, was already in the marble. The artist simply set him free.

That image stayed with me.

At 21, I read Mastery by Robert Greene. He described the years—sometimes decades—it takes to create anything lasting.
Not viral. Not trending.
Timeless.

And now, here I am. Florence.
In front of the actual David.

17 feet tall. Carved from a single block of marble that had been discarded by other artists.
Michelangelo took it on at 26 years old.
He spent years chiselling, carving, refining—not for fans, not for fame.
But for something greater.

Every detail has a reason:
The veins on the hands.
The twist of the torso.
Even the slightly exaggerated size of the hands—done on purpose so they’d look proportional when viewed from below atop a cathedral.

A masterpiece… designed to last.

In front of me, a young man starts dancing.
He’s making a TikTok.

He jumps. He spins. He checks his phone.
Not happy. He does it again.
Another take. Then another.
Some tourists smile. Others frown.

He doesn’t seem to notice David.

He’s 3 feet from a miracle…
But all he sees is his screen.

Now, let’s be honest: I’ve been that guy.
Not dancing in galleries. But distracted.
So caught up in cheap domaine …
So busy reaching for quick wins, I forget the slow work that actually matters.

We may not all carve marble.
But we do carve our days.

And each day, we get to choose:

Will I spend my attention on what’s cheap?
Or will I give it to something deeper?

A conversation that lingers.
A project that takes months.
A relationship that’s inconvenient—but real.

We live in a world of noise.
But noise fades.
What endures… is depth.

David was carved to last.
Your masterpiece might look different.
It might be a business. A book. A family. A movement.

Our work will always outlive us if we pursue what’s real, not what’s trending. If we create like it matters—because it does.

So ask yourself…
What are you working on today that might still matter tomorrow?

Where could you go deep, instead of staying surface-level?

Our first attempts may fall short. But our final ones might just last forever.

Play the long game. Honour your craft. Leave something that echoes.

With love and chisels,
Chris