Not for Everyone

What does it mean to persist on a path that offers little certainty?

What draws us, again and again, to a practice with no guarantees, no applause, no shortcuts?

Is it trust, habit, longing, or something even quieter?

How do we measure progress when nothing changes?

What if the only thing that changes is how we meet ourselves in quiet moments?

Is there such a thing as arrival, or is the value hidden in returning?

When the world spins fast,

what is the value of slowness, of repetition,

of listening for what doesn’t announce itself?

Can discomfort be a sign rather than a warning?

When there’s no audience,

what remains of motivation, and where does the pull come from?

Perhaps this path is not for everyone.

Perhaps it is not for anyone—and simply exists.

I don´t really know.

Cecilia