Some things don’t arrive all at once.
They stretch.
They unfold.
They take their time with us.
That’s what I’ve learned about becoming.
It doesn’t come with a spotlight or soundtrack.
It’s not an announcement—it’s a whisper.
A shift so small, we often don’t notice it until much later.
We think transformation looks like a new beginning, a bold step forward, something we can name and point to. But most of the time, it looks like this:
- Waking up and trying again.
- Forgiving yourself for needing time.
- Sitting in the quiet long enough to hear your own heartbeat again.
This is where this month’s poem began—not in clarity, but in waiting. In silence. In those quiet in-between places we often rush to escape.
But what if those in-between places are sacred?
What if becoming isn’t something we strive for—
but something we let happen?
What if it’s not a rise, or a run, or even a knowing—
but a simple choice to stay?
Next week, I’ll share the full poem.
But for now—maybe just notice where you are.
And trust that it’s already enough.
You don’t have to rush the unfolding.
This, too, is a gift to keep.
—
Coming Soon: We Look closer at May’s Poem – “Before the Answer”
