Do the work. The world may introduce any number of frustrations, distractions, and even a string of victories. We choose to call it a daily battle, because without a meaningful, merciful level of resistance, without the delicacy of a magnetic, polaric enticement, we would surely give in to the lesser, weaker, trivial influences and ceaseless background noise. Our mortal instrument would atrophy and our sword would corrode. Our pen would dry up, and our muse would simply move on.
Be grateful for mountains, for wandering aimlessly, effortlessly and without elevation, and a frequency of change; life in the veins will grow numb without a pulse.