There’s a moment, just before stepping into something new, when I wonder: is this the right time?

And almost always, the answer is uncertain. Too late. Too soon. Never quite now.

I think about all the times I’ve held back waiting for the perfect conditions, the perfect alignment, the perfect version of myself. But perfection is slippery, always just a step ahead. And in the meantime, today keeps happening, indifferent to whether I feel ready for it or not.

The world moves fast, and sometimes I feel like I’m running after it, trying to catch up with a version of time that refuses to wait. Trends rise and fall before I’ve even decided if I care about them. Art movements solidify only once they’re over. Design styles feel fresh until they don’t. Moments pass, and I wonder if I should have arrived sooner, moved faster or acted differently.

So maybe there is no perfect timing, only the timing we give meaning to. Maybe being “late” is just another way of being on time, only from a different perspective. Maybe today is always the right moment, not because everything is aligned, but because it’s the only moment we have.

And if that’s true, then there is no rush, no race, no clock ticking against me, just a quiet permission to be here, now, exactly as I am, in this moment.