Where Life Happens

Years ago, I used to think that life would happen after the actualization of everything. That life itself would only be fully lived after the obtainment of the ‘things’—the degree, the job, the partner—but it’s really in the becoming. It was never about the things. In fact, oftentimes, the solution we think will follow after getting that thing we wanted so badly is a fleeting feeling of excitement but only for a moment, until you realize that you are still you. With the same beautiful flaws and desires and repulsions and fascinations, you are still you.

Life happens in the in-between. How we show up when we’re working diligently for something we strongly desire, but it hasn’t quite happened yet. It’s in how we choose to spend our free time—filling it with what moves and inspires us, rather than waiting for someone else to do the same. It’s in the quiet where our intuition lies, and the way we must require ourselves to slow down so we can hear it. It’s in the permission already granted to express ourselves fully, authentically, and boldly each time we are being asked to do so, rather than watering down our truth. It’s in vulnerability, which sits at the foundation of true connection. It’s in the courage required to explore our own depths, more so the ones we’ve avoided. It’s in the absence of anything forced or resisted and is felt deeply in nature's rhythms—without our control, the wind carrying the clouds at its own pace, the way morning light shines through the window, creating its own art with shadows.

That is where life is experienced. Not at any fixed point of arrival or ideal culmination of the things, but in the way the morning light spills through the window, turning shadows into art.