The Clock of Life

This is Tsavo, early in the day, before the heat settled in. Out there, time keeps its own pace and pays no attention to ours.

I used to think fulfilment was something waiting further down the road. I’ve come to believe it sits in the present instead — in the passing of an ordinary moment, if I slow down enough to feel it.

Hard seasons still arrive and cast their shadow. Light finds a way through anyway, the way a small joy surfaces in the middle of a difficult stretch. Time is relative; it carries a different meaning for each of us.