Yesterday it rained on my freshly washed car.
I watched the drops skitter-scatter across the windshield, catching the light as they raced each other to the edges of the glass.
I almost missed it.
Because part of me was already somewhere else, living in an imagined future that felt more important than this moment.
I call this the myth of arrival.
It’s the belief that one day there will be a moment when we finally get to say:
I’m here.
I did it.
I’m done.
Everything is working. I’ve healed enough. I’ve become the person I was trying to become. Life is finally balanced, and from here on out I just…live happily ever after.
When I say it so plainly, it’s a little absurd.
Of course that’s not how life works.
We eat, and we don’t find it outrageous that we’ll need to eat again tomorrow.
We sleep, and we don’t wake up offended that we’re tired again the next night.
But somehow we expect growth to be different.
We think there should come a point where we’ve done enough therapy. Enough coaching. Enough reading. Enough healing. Enough crying. Enough inner work.
Where we shouldn’t need any more support.
Where we shouldn’t still have hard days.
Where we shouldn’t still find ourselves bumping into old fears.
The myth whispers:
“You should be there by now.”
And that’s how it steals our joy.
If we’re always waiting for the future version of ourselves, we miss the miracle of this one.
The raindrops on the windshield.
The roughness of your lover’s hand, and all the years of work and tending that made those hands.
The way your dog sighs when they finally settle beside you.
“Later.”
“I’m busy.”
“Once I get through this…”
But there is no later. There’s just now.
And now is exquisitely, infinitely complex, with undying beauty in it, if you look with those eyes.
Life is a spiral.
You get more precise in your self-knowledge.
More unwilling to tolerate what doesn’t work for you.
Braver in your desires.
But there isn’t an arrival where nothing feels challenging anymore.
The only arrival is turning around and seeing the terrain you’ve covered, noticing that what used to be hard is less hard, that you’ve traded old problems for new puzzles.
Maybe nothing has gone wrong because you still want more.
If you’re one of the people with a soul that seeks, if you’ve got that quivering sense that what you’ve been settling for is not enough…
There will only be the next unfolding.
And that’s the beauty of the game.
There is no finish line where life finally begins.
There is only this strange, beautiful practice of becoming.
Again tomorrow.
Just like breakfast.
Becomingly yours,
Rachel
PS – If you’re one of those constant-becoming people, you don’t have to do it alone. Support is the nutrition for the journey. If you’re feeling the pull toward your next unfolding, let’s talk. I have a couple of consult spots open this month. Through August 8, anyone who begins coaching with me will also receive a complimentary Zone of Genius Mapping Session—a deep dive into the unique combination of strengths, values, and ways of being that make your work distinctly yours.
