Looking inward isn’t always pleasant. In fact, it often hurts. It’s like diving into a stormy sea, holding your breath as you descend into parts of yourself you’d rather ignore. Lately, watching my colleagues celebrate weddings, newborns, and seemingly complete lives, I’ve been asking myself: “And where am I going?” I see single colleagues lost in bitterness, stuck in the past, or too angry at life to move forward. I don’t want to become like that. But today, as I notice the first white hairs on my chest and in my beard, I ask myself what I’ve truly built over these 40 years. I’ve spent years supporting friends in their relationships, watching them grow together while I remained on the sidelines, waiting for a love that was never returned. I often feel useless, like my life has been stuck in limbo, never really evolving. And yet, maybe I have built something—something invisible to the eye. I’ve built a deep capacity for listening, a quiet kindness, a discreet strength that shows up even when everything seems to fall apart. But today, that’s no longer enough. I long for true love: a love full of passion like fire, burning without destroying; free like the wind, bringing freshness and newness; solid like the earth, providing support and grounding; adaptable like water, always finding a …
