by Stacy Bremner, MA, RP
A gentle reminder that we’re not meant to be finished — we’re meant to keep unfolding, one invitation at a time.
The Myth of “Arrival”
There’s a moment, after we name a pattern and choose something different, when the nervous system whispers, “Now what?” We imagine there’s an end point — a place where the work is done and we finally get to coast. But the truth I keep returning to, especially in my Kabbalah class, is that there is no final arrival. Growth is ongoing. Life keeps unfolding, not as a test, but as a reality. And when we understand that, something inside us loosens. We stop bracing for the next lesson and start relaxing into the experience of being human in a universe that always expands in an ongoing way. I think right now, this concept is a valuable reminder.
Discovering the Ongoing Nature of Growth
I can’t remember when I first encountered this idea, but it changed me. It helped me accept that this whole journey — relationships, work, parenting, the world around us — is an adventure without a finish line. There is no moment where we “graduate” from challenges and live happily ever after. Friends, family, work, weather, war… life keeps offering us material to work with. And that realization brought me great peace.
Lessons From the Group Room
I learned this in a deeply embodied way back in 2002, when I began facilitating 12‑week Artist’s Way groups. No matter the theme, every single group—over several years—would reach the same turning point around week four or five. Something would surface that needed my attention: someone arriving late, a tension between members, a dynamic I couldn’t have predicted. At first, I interpreted these moments as signs that I was doing something wrong. But over time, I realized something essential: the group wasn’t only about the participants. It was also about me—my edges, my growth, my capacity to stay present and engaged while companioning the healing of others.
Once I understood that, I stopped feeling disappointed when a new challenge appeared. Instead, I could welcome it. Ah, here you are — this week’s lesson. And even now, more than twenty years later, when something unexpected arises with clients, my kids, or in my own life, I have that same inner nod.
AFGOs and the Softening of Perspective
A dear colleague of mine has a humorous acronym for these moments: AFGO — another f*ing growth opportunity. We laugh, we roll our eyes, and then we get to work. Because when we see life this way, something softens. We stop expecting ease to be permanent and start trusting the process instead. We become less brittle. More spacious. More able to meet what comes without collapsing, at least not for very long.
And it reminds me of something Julia Cameron often says in The Artist’s Way: “rest in the boat.”
It’s such a wise metaphor — the invitation to stop thrashing, stop trying to out‑swim the current, and simply let the boat hold you and take you downstream. Growth doesn’t require constant effort. Sometimes the most skillful thing we can do is pause, breathe, and trust that the river knows where it’s going.
Turning Toward Your Own Expectations
And maybe this is where it touches you. Have you ever noticed the quiet suffering that comes from believing you should be over something by now? Those inner stories — “Why is this still coming up?”, “What’s wrong with me?”, “I thought I dealt with this already.” — can be so punishing. You assume there’s a finish line you’ve somehow missed.
But what if those moments aren’t failures at all?
What if they’re simply the next invitations arriving for you — right on time?
A Helpful Posture for the Ongoing Journey
When we hold ourselves with humour, compassion, and a willingness to stay in the unfolding, the journey becomes less about reaching an end goal and more about becoming someone who can meet life as it comes: present, awake, and still expanding.
So as you move through your own unfolding, may you hold your expectations lightly. May you notice the moments when you turn against yourself with “I should be over this by now,” and offer yourself something kinder instead. And may you remember — in the quiet, in the chaos, in the ordinary rhythms of your days — that you are not meant to have finished by now. You are meant to keep growing, keep softening, keep becoming. There is no end goal. Only the next invitation, arriving right on time.
