the art of becoming

In our rush to reach the destination, we forget it's in the journey that we become.

I'm so anxious. Impulsive. Always jumping the gun, often running in circles.

It's no wonder I got lost in the Labyrinth.

But WHAT'S THE DAMN RUSH, GIRL???

Seriously, for one second—can you stop and just… be?

I couldn't. I just kept going, big dreams bundled up under my arm, eyes set on the finish line, not really thinking about who I was becoming.

But the more I walked, the farther that destination seemed to get.

At first, I thought the path was a straight line. But I was so naive then. There are always twists and turns along the way. No matter how fast I ran, the finish line just kept stretching before me.

It used to make me so anxious. No more.

I'm currently obsessed with Brandon Sanderson's Stormlight Saga—a series of fantasy books that preach the motto: Journey before destination. If you're into that genre and haven't picked up this series yet, I highly, highly, highly recommend it.

Those words though… they 📣 ring riiiiing 📣 in my ears: Journey. Before. Destination.

Forget the best-selling author, the award-winning movie, the viral TikTok. Our culture is so freaking obsessed with outcomes. Payoffs. Checking off goals from our to-do list.

We don't have to be.

We can focus instead on what happens in between. Because it's the path that shapes the outcome—that finish line.

And it's the stuff we pick up along the way that determines who we are.

But who did I want to be? It hit me: I wasn't sure.

So I focus now on the “art of becoming”. The magic of surrendering to the journey. Letting it shape me, mold me.

All that time I was rushing, practically gasping for air, as if I had a deadline to live my life by. I mean, I kinda do—we all know where this is going to end. Heaven, the Styx, Valhalla, hopefully Nirvana—I mean, you choose. But that's exactly the point. I already know the destination… why run towards it?

Upon second thought, I think I'd rather take it easy.

Get lost in the crossroads, stumble, fall, laugh, then cry a little (always healthy, ok), pick myself back up. Find my way around again. Slow down so I can get to know myself better. Realizing there's so much to taste when I'm no longer rushing towards that unseen destination. So many possibilities for what I could be if I just… explore the path around me.

The more I think about it, the more it strikes me that becoming is knowing. You have to know yourself. Feel around until you discover what matters to you—and then I think the right path should be easier to follow too.

The beauty of it all is that you can learn how to be you in time. The Beatles said it first, I'm just singing along. In my own rhythm. My own tune.

To hell with running—I WANT TO DANCE.

The path is mine. Who said I can’t? After all, that's part of who I am.

The rest, I'm still figuring out. The road is long, but that's not a bad thing. It means more room to dabble. More time to become.

I might even take a couple of detours—who knows what else I'll find along the way.