When Wanting Comes Softly

There’s this unexpected calm that settles in when you realize you care about something you didn’t plan to.

I applied for a job. Nothing dramatic, no fireworks— just a pull. Gentle. Curious. And if I’m being real, I didn’t expect to want it. But I do. Not because it’s a dream role or some perfectly mapped out step. I think… I’m just curious. And that’s enough.

I’ve noticed that lately— how things are getting less blurry. Not in some grand, lightning bolt kind of way. But like when fog lifts just enough for you to see the next step in front of you. It feels right. Not rushed. Not loud. Just… right.

And even though I’ve always felt a deep sense of injustice in the world—like something in me burns quietly when things don’t sit right—I’ve never been the one to shout about it. There’s someting in me that doesn’t rise loudly. It roots. Like a six-ton bar anchored deep in the ground. It’s not resistance. It’s not fear. It’s a kind of knowing. A grounded kind of alignment.

One of my mother’s favorite stories to tell is about a time she bought one of those little harnesses for toddlers. She strapped it on me, expecting I’d run wild. But instead, I sat down. Refused to move. Just planted myself there like, Nope.

I think about that now and laugh, because honestly… not much has changed. I’ve never responded well to being pulled in directions that don’t feel right. I don’t rebel loudly—I just don’t budge. It’s not defiance. It’s that same internal knowing. That same six-ton bar in the ground.

I used to measure desire by how loud it was. The urgency. The ache. But this is different. This is a quiet “yes” I didn’t expect.

And maybe that’s the whole point.

Maybe this season isn’t about chasing or proving or performing. Maybe it’s just about trusting the moments that make you look twice. That make you feel twice.

Sometimes wanting comes softly.

And that’s still wanting.

—Written on a quiet afternoon, with clarity humming in the background.