She has been building a house for as long as she can remember,
like a project to be improved.
She lives with both a gift and a curse, that is…
She is always in the future. Always trying to foresee what is next.
So she dreams of what she might build tomorrow,
what adjustments to make to better align with that imagined dream.
Like a feedback loop, taking inputs, analyzing, strategizing, and iterating.
Always chasing the next version of a more perfect house.
She is always refining.
Always refactoring.
Because there is always another wall to raise,
another corner to dust,
another room to build.
Sometimes, she even tears down entire walls to restructure the space entirely.
She has done this for years.
And the house has grown more refined and impressive with time.
More elegant.
And yet,
she feels something is missing.
So she dreams again.
The next morning, she begins to refine once more.
She keeps envisioning a version of that house just beyond her reach,
the perfect edition, the final form.
Just one more tweak away,
and she will reach there.
But she has never once stood beneath what she has already built and…
simply looked around.
What she does not realize is…
That perfect version does not exist.
It really does not exist,
because there is no final version.
There is only the current one.
The one that is real, standing, and lived in.
And that is the one she keeps overlooking.
The one she can feel the presence of, here and now.
The dream is an abstraction,
an illusion.
She will never be able to build that house.
But she is already living in the home she has built with care and resilience.
The home that has been built this whole time
is already standing.
And the most unattainable thing,
is to be.
To ask nothing more of the moment
than what it is already offering.
My dear, the mind may love the future,
but the heart only beats here.
So be here.
Just be.