In the waiting.
A poem(?) about time and the small moments that lead to breakthroughs.
The wait.
It is not glamorous. It happens not in places you aspire to, but rather in places you aimlessly pass by each day without a second thought.
A coffee shop. A hospital. A parking lot.
The wait is a formidable foe. It levies no weapons. It is silent. It is motionless. It is perhaps more insidious than that, pitting you against your most brutal opponent, your own mind.
Aided by time. Whatever the opposite of flow is. Seconds feel like minutes that feel like hours.
The wait is not glamorous. And yet, it is where champions are made.
Real champions. Real wins. Life-defining achievement.
What is the secret?
You cannot defeat the wait. You can only survive it. But this is a win in its own right. Time becomes an advantage.
The secret is not remaining hopeful or positive or happy at all costs. It is continuing to show up, to sit, to wait - when all seems lost.
A battle of wills. You WILL show up. You WILL sit. You WILL wait. And you WILL do whatever it takes to build the life you want.
The wait is not glorious. But it is the only path to glory.
Why did I write this with my dog on a Wednesday morning? Who knows!?
Photo by Levi Meir Clancy on Unsplash.