The Art of Starting Over (and Over)

For a long time, I assumed that starting over meant erasing the past - an admission that something had gone wrong. But I've come to believe it's more about proximity than perfection. Beginning again is often a quiet way of staying close to the things that matter, even when you've drifted.

This past week, a few of my routines fell away - not from resistance, but from sheer fatigue. Instead of waiting for clarity or motivation to return, I found myself making small moves back toward what I cared about. I made a meal. Tidied a few notes. Took a longer route home. Not as a reset, but as a return to proximity.

What I'm learning about the art of return:

1. A clean slate isn't required. What helps, more often, is just enough space to move differently- a cleared counter, a reopened notebook, a willingness to let yesterday be done.

2. Returning is its own form of success. There's value in the return itself, even if it's clumsy. Perfection isn't the proof of care; persistence is.

3. Gentleness is sustainable. Most of what I've kept in my life began without pressure. When I softened my grip, I stayed longer. When I demanded discipline, I often lost interest.

4. Proximity matters more than precision. Sometimes staying close to what matters looks like cooking instead of ordering takeout, even if the meal is simple. Or writing a few scattered thoughts instead of waiting for the perfect essay. The nearness itself has value.

The question isn't how to start better - it's how to return more gently. How to drift and come back without making the drifting mean something terrible about who we are.