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Every season has its own rhythm.
We’re often quick to judge where we are instead of noticing it.
Finish this sentence gently: This season of my life feels like __________.
✨ I’ll go first: a pause.
Not to fall behind — but to listen, breathe, and let myself arrive where I am.
Nothing to rush.
Nothing to prove.
Choosing presence now, so my next step can be honest.
How would you describe yours?
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Every season has its own rhythm.
