By Molly Booker

This week, I did something I’ve never done quite like this before:
I took a match to the rules that were never mine.

In the garden, I built a ritual fire—honoring the beliefs that once protected me but no longer fit. I burned them like old clothes I’ve outgrown:
“No pain, no gain.”
“Rest is laziness.”
“Earn your worth.”
“Effort is everything.”

They sizzled and curled and cracked open into smoke. And with that fire came something new.

A resurrection.
A whisper.
A truth I’ve been circling my whole life:

I am enough.
My joy matters.
I don’t have to earn rest, delight, or love.

Not a performative self-care day. Not a check-it-off reset.
But a real, messy, pleasurable day of being.

I walked to the library, rain in the air, my lungs finally getting to breathe without expectation. I wandered the stacks like a kid, found a good book, and bought myself a fun pen on the way home (a joyful impulse I did not justify).

Lunch was chips and a sandwich with Kelly.
I read. I rested. I did a 20-minute power scan of my inbox and—shockingly—I wanted to keep going. There was something about the timer that made it playful, not punishing.

The monkey mind quieted. The inner taskmaster softened.
And I realized: I can build a life like this.
One where joy is the measure.

This is what emerged from the ashes: a prose-poem that captures what I want to live by now.

👇 Download the illustrated version:
🖼️ The Joy Code – Poster Image (PNG)

And here’s the list I burned—maybe you’ll recognize some of your own in there.
Print it. Burn it. Bury it under Legos and cartoons.

👇 Download the printable version:
📄 The Rules I Release – PDF Style (PNG)

What would your life look like if you stopped running up hills that were never yours?

Would you float?
Would you draw more?
Would you let joy be enough?

Write your own line.
Burn what no longer fits.
Let something new begin.

With love,
Molly