From childhood, we learn to crave happy endings.
We chase transformation, completion, emergence,
That eternally-elusive end result—the one that renders us whole, at last.
Real life doesn’t happen in tidy acts.
The plot twists don’t always resolve themselves.
The hero doesn’t save the day, the princess falls in love with the villain.
Real life doesn’t wait until the clues make sense,
Until the words “The End” appear at the end of the story.
Real life is here, now, happening.
The tension, the struggle, the fight to reconcile who you are with who you could be
To accept the way things are when you know that they could be different,
That you could make them different, someday—
This is life, in the midst.
The story is unfolding now, and every step is worth celebrating
Not merely for its relation to a future accomplishment, but
For what it is—for the effort it represents, for the growth it marks.
We are resilient. We inhabit the tension and we do not break.
We share our stories because we all have something vitally important to say.
Each one is unique, but every one echoes the truth that gives us the strength to press on:
We are not alone.
This is WHILST.