There’s something quietly powerful about turtles. They don’t rush, they don’t compete, they don’t overthink the waves. They move with this calm certainty that’s almost poetic—one steady stroke at a time. While everything around them shifts—the tides, the currents, the noise—they just keep going.
We live in a world obsessed with speed. Everyone’s sprinting somewhere, chasing something, counting milestones and measuring moments in metrics. But turtles? They remind us that pace isn’t progress. Progress is about direction, not velocity. It’s about showing up again tomorrow, even if today felt slow.
Some days you’ll glide. Some days you’ll crawl. There’ll be waves that push you back and days that make you question if you’re even moving at all. But the turtle teaches us the quiet art of patience—the kind that doesn’t demand instant results, the kind that trusts the process even when the shore isn’t yet in sight.
Because that’s how real growth happens. Not in leaps, but in inches. Not through panic, but through presence.
You don’t have to sprint. You just have to keep going. Slow progress is still progress—and peace, the kind that comes from patience, will always outlast pressure.
Kenrick Vaz 