Frequently, life delivers reminders that we don’t control any clocks - for telling time, cooking things or measuring the unexpected.
News of anyone’s too-soon departure sharpens the edge of the day we learn it.
Mondays keep arriving, each one carrying both burden and possibility.
The question isn’t whether we restart, it’s how deliberately we’ll do it.
It seems to me that reaching a change-point, a hinge-moment, a “go forward but differently” can start any time.
Or never.
Choice meets chance. Some days we roll dice, some days we face dice rolling us.
I read an obituary this morning. Not someone I knew, but the words cut just the same. From diagnosis to death in four months.
A reminder that life isn’t a straight path, it’s a maze of unpredictable turns.
That jolted my morning coffee into sharper focus.
Mondays, too; every Monday feels like a restart, not just a ritual of routine but a chance to reset. It’s easy to take that for granted until reminders arrive that time is not endless. Not ours at any rate.
So what should we do with that awareness?
For me, Mondays are not only personal fresh starts.
They’re team days. Collaboration matters. New roles, new projects, even new passions; it all comes alive when others step in alongside. Leadership has a place, sure, but shared effort is what makes a relaunch more than just noise in one person’s head.
Every week, my challenge is the same: pull myself from a work-filled weekend into a less-weakened week. That isn’t luck. It’s discipline.
It’s stubborn acts of dragging myself forward even when the spark feels faint.
Sometimes that effort feels like a moonshot, a weekly thought-shot-drug of hope and possibility.
The obituary reminded me that we don’t get infinite launches.
But we do get infinite Mondays.
Again and again, until we don’t.
Time is short, don’t waste your re-starts.
The clock won’t stop, so why should we?
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