it takes ten minutes

The Morning Hues, January 8th 2026

you’re dying.

no—really.
from your first cry, you began the slow, inevitable march toward death.
death, who walks beside you always.
your lifelong companion.

and life?
life always seems to be in crisis.

but what if i told you it only takes ten minutes to save it?

two sets of five.

you’re spiraling now.
the thought of your barely-begun life being in danger flings you into outer space—but stay with me.

it doesn’t have to be dramatic.
it’s a slow march. a long walk.
you have time.
you can spare ten minutes. i promise.

ten minutes to save your life.
ten minutes to change it.

they say there are multiple timelines—
all of them waiting for you to grab one.
to be in the right place, at the right time,
to shift.

what if i gave you the keys?

the steps to set the conditions—
so that with a little preparation and a deep breath,
you could step into a new timeline.

it sounds miraculous.
impossible.

but it isn’t.

it only takes ten minutes.

those ten minutes are a commitment
to try something different.
to do something different.

and on the other side of the choice,
you’ll know whether you landed in the right timeline.

first: feel the rumble.
notice the pressure building—the anxiety, the heat, the swell.
this isn’t failure.
it’s ignition.
a star collapsing.
a black hole you can travel through.

second: halt.
stop. do nothing.
you will want to do what you always do—
scream, eat, fight, hurt, disappear.

don’t.

third: do the opposite.
not something better.
something different.

yell? cry.
cry? yell.
hurt? help.
eat? move.
move? eat.
fight? rest.
rest? fight.

do it for ten minutes.

fourth: check the nervous system.
it will feel different—but is it good or bad?

bad? wrong timeline.
next rumble, choose another path.

good?
you’ve landed.

hold steady
until the next jump is required.

these four steps create the conditions.
for alignment.
for movement.
for survival.

and those ten minutes?

they can save your life.

see you tomorrow

hues