The Art of Becoming: Taking Shape

There are days that seem to begin before we’ve even opened our eyes.

The kind where it feels as though the world has already decided how your day should feel before you’ve even opened the curtains.

Lately, though, I’ve been trying something different. Instead of reaching straight for my to-do list, I pause.

I make my coffee.

I open the window.

I notice the breeze moving through the trees outside.

And I ask myself one simple question.

 

”How do I want today to feel?”

Not, “How much can I get done?”

Or, “What will everyone expect from me?”

 

Just… “How do I want today to feel?”

It’s such a gentle question, yet it changes everything.

Because a peaceful day rarely arrives by accident. It’s created.

Quietly.

Choice by choice.

Thought by thought.

I’ve realised that one of the quickest ways to lose a peaceful day is to start carrying things that were never mine to carry in the first place.

Someone else’s frustration.

Someone else’s expectations.

Someone else’s fears.

And before you’ve even taken your first sip of coffee, your mind is already busy unpacking someone else’s emotions.

This afternoon, I found myself watching my cat.

She had claimed the warmest spot on the windowsill, where the afternoon sun poured through the glass and wrapped itself around her fur.

Every so often she’d blink slowly at the world outside.

A bird hopping across the garden.

The branches swaying in the breeze.

A passing cloud.

Nothing about her seemed rushed.

She wasn’t trying to be productive.

She wasn’t wondering if she was doing enough.

She wasn’t comparing herself to anyone.

She simply trusted that the sunshine belonged to her as much as everything else.

I found myself wondering when we stop believing that.

Lately, I’ve been hearing so much about embracing your “black cat energy.”

At first, I wondered if it meant becoming mysterious.

Hard to read.

Detached.

Almost untouchable.

But the more I’ve thought about it, the less I think it’s about becoming someone new.

I think it’s about returning to yourself.

About moving through life without apologising for taking up space.

Trusting that what is meant for you doesn’t need chasing.

Feeling safe enough in your own company that solitude becomes peaceful rather than lonely.

It’s less about becoming a black cat and more about becoming at home within yourself.

I’ve noticed that difficult emotions have a funny way of pretending they’re permanent.

It’s remarkable how quickly the mind can mistake a passing cloud for the entire sky.

But clouds move.

Storms pass.

Even the longest winters eventually soften into spring.

I’ve been learning not to build my identity around temporary weather.

As I was sitting there, watching the branches outside my window sway in the breeze, I found myself thinking about how much nature can teach us.

A tree never questions whether it’s growing quickly enough.

It doesn’t compare one branch to another.

It doesn’t abandon itself because one branch bends in the wind or another loses its leaves.

It simply continues reaching towards the light.

Quietly. Patiently. Season after season.

Perhaps that’s what growth really looks like.

Not becoming somebody else overnight.

But allowing small shifts to become new branches.

One boundary.

One reframed thought.

One act of self-respect.

One peaceful morning.

On their own, they seem almost insignificant.

But over time, they change the entire shape of the tree.

Maybe our lives are no different.

Every decision creates another branch.

Another possibility.

Another direction we could grow into.

And maybe that’s why I’m learning not to panic when life doesn’t look exactly how I imagined.

I’m still growing.

The branches are still reaching.

The roots are still deepening.

I don’t need to force spring to arrive before it’s ready.

And as for my cat…

She eventually stretched, blinked slowly at the garden one last time, and wandered off as though she’d just solved the meaning of life.

Perhaps she had.

She never apologised for resting.

She never questioned whether she’d earned the sunshine.

She simply trusted that she belonged there.

I’m beginning to think that’s a lesson worth carrying with me.

To stop apologising for taking up space.

To stop rushing my own becoming.

To let myself grow in my own direction.

Unapologetically.

One branch at a time.

With love,

Laura-Anne xo