It doesn’t always happen in a single, cinematic moment.
No lightning bolt. No grand revelation.
Sometimes, awakening arrives quietly.
It’s the deep sigh at the end of another high-achieving week, when you realise you’ve delivered everything expected… yet feel strangely untouched by it.
It’s noticing how tired you are, not just physically or mentally, but somewhere deeper. The kind of weariness that seeps into your spirit.
It’s the Sunday evening where the weekend already feels like a blur. A series of events, none of which left a real imprint.
You start to wonder when your days began to flatten.
When the sine wave of your heart - the pulse of aliveness - began to quieten.
Maybe you know that feeling.
This quiet ache can feel like loss. But perhaps it’s something else, the first whisper of wanting more.
More presence.
And meaning. Moments that leave a trace.
What if this restlessness isn’t a problem to fix, but an invitation?
An invitation to return to the things that make you feel awake again. To remember what once moved you, before efficiency and expectation took over.
You don’t need a grand plan to begin.
Just a willingness to listen to the subtle signals.
Because often, the most profound turning points begin with noticing.
Photo by Yara on Unsplash