There’s a sacred hush in the space between what was and what’s about to be. New beginnings live in that hush. They’re exciting, yes, but also tender. Like seedlings pushing up through the soil, fragile and fierce all at once.
We often think of beginnings as big, dramatic milestones, the first day at a new job, the birth of a child, a move to a new home. And those matter, deeply. Beginnings also live in the quieter moments: deciding to lace up your shoes and walk farther than yesterday, choosing to drink water instead of scrolling another hour away, or looking in the mirror and whispering, let’s try again.
Every fresh start, big or small, carries the promise that we are not stuck. That the past can be compost, nourishing the soil of what comes next. Yes, it was messy. Yes, it broke down into pieces. And those pieces become the richness that helps new growth take root!
Beginnings are rarely neat. They are full of awkward introductions, shaky first steps, and butterflies that feel more like a swarm than a gentle flutter. And those nerves are proof that you’re alive, stretching, becoming. Growth isn’t supposed to feel comfortable, it’s supposed to feel like expansion.
Think of the seasons. Winter never apologizes for ending. Spring doesn’t hesitate when it’s time to bloom. Each cycle begins again, unapologetically, because it knows beginnings are not mistakes, they’re necessities.
So whether you’re walking into a brand-new chapter, or simply turning the page on a Tuesday, remember: you don’t have to have it all figured out. You only have to begin.
Here’s to clean slates, messy middles, and beautiful outcomes we can’t yet see. To brave hearts and quiet courage. To every ending that becomes a doorway, and every doorway that leads to something new.
Because life isn’t about getting it “right” the first time. It’s about daring to begin, again and again.
Yard 2 Yield! 