So encouraging. So true. I am a future addict, for sure. It's where I escape when the present is too mundane, too boring, too hard. But it's a trap to fly away there. I am slowly, painfully, and soberly attending to the present as if it is precious, as if it is the future, as if it will birth the future, but like you described so well: "tending to the garden of your life even in winter, when the soil is cold, and your hands ache from the effort." And occasionally I notice little events, little successes, little normal easy miracles that would never have happened without my present work.
@Trindi: my mom had lupus for a big part of her early life so I know a little bit of what you might be fighting. Welcome to Substack; I will follow you!
Somewhere between our craving for clarity and our addiction to hustle, we forget the divine mischief of the present moment. Thanks for the reminder that growth doesn’t always come with fanfare—it sometimes arrives disguised as laundry, heartbreak, or a long silence before the next step shows up uninvited and half-dressed.
May we stay faithful to the holy absurdity of now.
A beautiful reminder to slow down, breathe, and fully be here. The present moment is where peace, power, and clarity live. Thank you for this gentle invitation, Etienne.
Etienne, are you a mind reader? Because you just hit my street. I'm a newbie here on Substack, and this is another reminder to slowly cultivate my craft and trust the process. I'm a quotes girl, and I appreciate "Often, our greatest transformations begin in obscurity. They start as seeds planted in hidden soil, growing in silence, gaining strength in the dark before they break open into bloom, right when we least expect it." Thank you for this.
So encouraging. So true. I am a future addict, for sure. It's where I escape when the present is too mundane, too boring, too hard. But it's a trap to fly away there. I am slowly, painfully, and soberly attending to the present as if it is precious, as if it is the future, as if it will birth the future, but like you described so well: "tending to the garden of your life even in winter, when the soil is cold, and your hands ache from the effort." And occasionally I notice little events, little successes, little normal easy miracles that would never have happened without my present work.
Thanks so much for this writing.
Thank you for your vulnerability in sharing. You are on your way. Keep pushing!
I love this; I live as much like this as I can, and the older I get, the more important it has become. Thank you for sharing this beautiful message.
@Trindi: my mom had lupus for a big part of her early life so I know a little bit of what you might be fighting. Welcome to Substack; I will follow you!
Somewhere between our craving for clarity and our addiction to hustle, we forget the divine mischief of the present moment. Thanks for the reminder that growth doesn’t always come with fanfare—it sometimes arrives disguised as laundry, heartbreak, or a long silence before the next step shows up uninvited and half-dressed.
May we stay faithful to the holy absurdity of now.
—Virgin Monk Boy
...the divine mischief of the present moment. Such a splendid sentence.
Very insightful!
Thank you. I definitely needed to read this today as I’ve been struggling with putting too much of my energy into the future and not into the now.
I’m glad it resonated
A beautiful reminder to slow down, breathe, and fully be here. The present moment is where peace, power, and clarity live. Thank you for this gentle invitation, Etienne.
🙏🏽
Amen
Etienne, are you a mind reader? Because you just hit my street. I'm a newbie here on Substack, and this is another reminder to slowly cultivate my craft and trust the process. I'm a quotes girl, and I appreciate "Often, our greatest transformations begin in obscurity. They start as seeds planted in hidden soil, growing in silence, gaining strength in the dark before they break open into bloom, right when we least expect it." Thank you for this.
Thanks for reading and I’m glad it resonated with you!