It was always a goal of mine to read Thus Spoke Zarathustra by Friedrich Nietzsche. The book itself isn’t long—maybe 250 pages—but it took me nearly a year to finish. Not because it was difficult to read, but because it was difficult to confront. I couldn’t rush it. Some pages asked to be sat with. Others demanded to be wrestled.

One line has stayed with me ever since: “The higher we soar, the smaller we appear to those who cannot fly.”

When we choose the inward path—the climb that no one sees, the quiet rebuilding, the shedding of old skins—it rarely looks impressive from the outside. There are no applause breaks for inner work. No trophies for resisting gravity.

I’ve noticed that when you begin to want something different than what society prescribes, it unsettles people. And when they see a certain light in you—a refusal to shrink—they often try to dim it. Not always consciously. Sometimes it’s subtle. Sometimes it’s disguised as concern.

But still, we choose to rise. Still, we choose to burn bright.

This jacket carries that ascent—the discipline of becoming, the solitude of growth, and the quiet defiance of those who dare to soar.