Reflection Three: Beginning Again, Quietly

There is a myth that beginnings must be bold. That starting again requires clarity, confidence, or a clean break from what came before.

But most real beginnings are quiet.

They happen in small moments — a pause before responding, a breath taken without instruction, a page opened without expectation. Often, we don’t even realize we’ve begun again until we’re already there.

Beginning again does not mean erasing what was difficult. It means allowing ourselves to return without judgment. To meet the present moment as it is, rather than as we wish it had been.

Some days, beginning again feels hopeful. Other days, it feels neutral, or even tiring. All of these belong.

The practice does not ask us to start over perfectly. It asks only that we show up — gently, imperfectly, and honestly. That we allow today to be today, without carrying yesterday as a burden or tomorrow as a demand.

There is no correct pace for returning. No timeline to follow. No version of yourself you must arrive at before you are allowed to begin.

You can begin again in this moment.
And if you forget, you can begin again later.

Both are enough.