On Becoming

“From time to time it's fun to close our eyes, and in that dark say to ourselves, ‘I am the sorcerer, and when I open my eyes I shall see a world that I have created, and for which I and only I am completely responsible.’ Slowly then, eyelids open like curtains lifting stage center. And sure enough, there's our world, just the way we've built it.” — Richard Bach, The Bridge Across Forever

Welcome to cherryontop café, the podcast about life. This week’s episode is about Change, Growth, and Becoming. So, grab a coffee, settle in, and let’s begin.

Intro music.

Do you have touchstones you return to whenever you’re at a crossroads? A memory, a piece of advice, a ritual, a book — something that steadies you when life becomes uncertain?

I do. And the quote you heard at the beginning of this episode is one of them. It's a quote from one of my all-time favourite books — The Bridge Across Forever by Richard Bach.

It always finds me when I’m in the middle of a change — the kind of change that unsettles me; pushes me out of my comfort zone, and asks me to trust what I can’t yet see. When that happens, I have to quiet my restless mind and return to the things that ground me.

It’s like being stuck in traffic on your way to an interview. You know where you’re heading. You’ve done your homework, you’ve prepared well, and in your mind, the job is already yours. All you want to do is arrive and claim it. So you leave the house early, determined to be on time — and then the traffic stops. Suddenly your body is sitting in a car with nothing to do, while your mind is racing ahead into the future. For a moment, the two of you — body and mind — fall out of sync. It’s an uncomfortable, unsettling place to be.

And then, in a split second, something clicks. A thought drops in. A lesson lands. An apple-on-the-head moment. And you realise you wouldn’t have learned it if life hadn’t made you stop.

That’s how I feel now — stuck in traffic on my way to meet the future me. For the past two years, I’ve been growing, learning, brainstorming, creating. And now I’m on my way to claim the result. The work is done, the vision is clear, and I’m waiting for the world to catch up.

It’s the time between “I’ve built it” and “I’ve arrived.” Between “I hope I’ll get there” and “I know I will.” It’s an uncomfortable stretch of road — a little shaky, a little lonely, a little too quiet. On the outside, everything looks the same. On the inside, everything has shifted. I feel like I should be doing something to make others see the shift too, but I know I can’t. This waiting makes me feel fragile and vulnerable — tempted to turn the car around and return to the place I know best: my comfort zone, my home.

We’re so used to doing. To fixing. To proving — proving ourselves. We’re taught that progress only counts if we can measure it or show it to someone else. Action feels like control; stillness feels like risk. And yet there are things you simply cannot rush. Growing your hair from a buzz cut to shoulder length takes time. There’s nothing you can do but let it grow. And in the meantime, you’re guaranteed a few awkward hairstyles and a new hat or two to hide them. You might feel uncomfortable, embarrassed, even frustrated — like a child growing into adulthood.

And that’s when the doubts creep in. What if I fail? What if I never finish what I’ve started? And then the other side of the same coin: What if I don’t fail? What if I succeed? What if everything I’ve built becomes exactly what I imagined? Fear of failure and fear of success — both real, both loud, both arriving right on schedule.

But all of that is part of the deal. I’ve lived long enough to know that right now, my only job is to stay present, stay open, and keep growing into the identity I’ve already claimed.

“From time to time it's fun to close our eyes, and in that dark say to ourselves, ‘I am the sorcerer…’”

So I did. I closed my eyes and stepped into my future self. And this is what she says to the me who is sitting here now:

Don’t rush. I know this part feels uncomfortable. Growth always does — it’s quiet, slow, uncertain. But it’s still growth. Let it unfold. Wait it out.

Stay close to your touchstones. Return to the things that steady you — the quote, the memory, the ritual, the person, the book. They won’t fix the moment, but they will remind you who you are inside it.

Trust the identity you’ve stepped into. You’ve done the work. You’ve built the thing. Now breathe. Enjoy the drive.

And yes, Doubt and Fear will be standing by the road with their thumbs out. Sometimes they even jump in front of your speeding car just to get a ride. Let them into the back seat if you must, but don’t let them drive. Keep your hands on the wheel. You don’t have to silence them — just choose the voice that moves you forward.

And trust the timing. The world will catch up. People will find what you’ve created. The recognition, the momentum, the alignment — they arrive exactly when you’re ready to hold them. Not a moment earlier, and never too late.

This in-between space isn’t the time to rush. It’s preparation. Because you don’t just want to arrive at the house you’ve built — you want to be able to live in it, sustain it, and call it home.

You're doing great.