How long is a piece of string? 🧵

This is the question I keep circling back to this week.

(Or, in other words: How long does it actually take for things to come together? How long do we wait in the dark, the uncertain, the murky middle before the way becomes clear?)

If I’ve learned anything this week—and maybe why that lotus analogy never leaves me—it’s this:

It’s in the muck and the mess, the dark, heavy, and downright unlovely places, where the lotus finds its way to bloom.

It’s almost funny how often clarity or unexpected gifts—ones that may have been waiting for us all along—only break through after we’ve slogged through the deep, dark, dingy mud.

It reminds me of the story I shared back in edition two: if you keep looking for the pony, you’ll probably get your hands dirty first (and dirtier than you thought they’d get, for sure).

Maybe that’s just how life works: You really have to dig through the mess—through the frustration, the uncertainty, and those moments when you’re questioning if you’re even in the right place.

And then, like the mist that clears unexpectedly along the coast, something quietly shifts.

Cracks appear, the mud settles, and in all that mess, if you’re open to it, tiny signs of life begin to spring up—maybe a chance bud, the faintest ray of light peeking through the clouds, or THAT pony…

It isn't always graceful or easy. And to be honest, I think it rarely is. Oftentimes, the detours are longer than we ever could have imagined, there’s tripping and fumbling, the string knotted and seemingly endless, and the bloom taking its own sweet damn time… 😒

Sometimes it’s all knots and tangles, and it can feel like the string might just run out. But maybe that’s exactly why we need to just keep holding on. Because eventually… eventually somewhere in that muck, things start to come together—and often in ways we never ever (ever) could have planned.

I don’t quite have the answer. But maybe it’s worth holding on to that string. And not letting go. No matter what. Like, Dorie said, “Just keep swimming.”

Because the tide will turn.

It always, always turns.

It must.

And as the lotus rises up through the mud—against all the odds—sometimes, just sometimes, the mess is the beginning of something beautiful for you too...

That’s all for now.

Until next week!

Always light,

Shanna (thick in the mess) Lindinger

P.S. If you’re in a muddy place or finally found your own “pony,” I’d love to hear about it. Hit reply—let’s remind one another that something good grows here, even in the thick of it.

▶ Thinking Spot: Coastal path walks with the pooch

▶ Podcast pick: The Rich Roll Podcast

▶ Current read: The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success by Deepak Chopra

▶ Writing setup: MacBook Pro + simple notebook and pen