Growth doesn’t start with a grand reveal—it starts quietly, under the surface. A seed sits in the dark for a while before it breaks through the soil. It doesn’t rush, doesn’t question its worth, doesn’t panic because nothing’s blooming yet. It just waits, trusting the process written into its very being.
That’s how I’m learning to see new beginnings. Not as instant transformations, but as deep, unseen work that takes time to rise. The dreams I plant, the healing I nurture, the career I rebuild or the love I open to again—they all begin slowly, with small shifts. Some days it feels like nothing’s happening. But underground, the roots are forming.
And just like a seed doesn’t sprout overnight, I don’t need to force myself into clarity or results. I need patience. I need trust. The kind of trust that says, “Keep showing up, even when it looks like nothing is changing.” Because eventually, the soil gives way. The light comes in. And what I’ve been growing finally shows.
This season might be quiet, but that doesn’t mean it’s empty. Something is on its way. And when it arrives, it won’t be because I pushed—it’ll be because I trusted.