Where to?
A huge thank you to all our incredible subscribers who have taken part in the first-ever BVOY Inc. drop! Thanks to your support, we’ve crushed our goals and are now setting our sights even higher. We still have a few holders + incense for sale at bvoyinc.com, but they’re selling quickly. Be sure to order now either for yourself or the perfect holiday gift.
While the sense of accomplishment has been deeply rewarding, I’ve found myself reflecting on the journey that brought me here—the challenges overcome, the lessons learned, and the small wins along the way that shaped this moment. Now, I feel a mix of excitement and introspection, wondering what lies ahead and how I can continue to channel this momentum into the next chapter, staying true to the vision and values that brought me here.
The Finish Line Illusion
A few weeks ago, I crossed two finish lines: one after pounding the pavement for 26.2 miles and another after launching a business I’ve nurtured for years. Now, with “Marathoner” and “Founder” badges freshly stamped, I find myself sitting here, staring at my computer, wondering…what’s next?
Society loves the finish line. We eat up the medals, the titles, the public applause. It’s the finale that draws all the fanfare. But what about the quiet work before the big reveal? What about the countless mornings before dawn, the late nights when no one else is watching, the setbacks, the self-doubt, and the small, unrecognized victories that build the foundation of every success?
See, the stage leading up to these achievements doesn’t come with titles or trophies. It doesn’t look glamorous. There are no banners for “5:00 a.m. Riser” or “Lone Weekend Worker.” But these moments? They are the bones of any meaningful endeavor. Yet, we’re conditioned to honor only the results, forgetting the messy, unpredictable, often exhausting process that actually shapes us.
We spend most of our lives in this in-between, where titles aren’t yet earned and tasks are incomplete. There’s a strange beauty here—a quiet honor in the days no one sees. It’s in these spaces, when the world is silent, that we learn resilience, patience, grit. But society? Society is too focused on the endgame.
Imagine if we shifted that perspective. If success wasn’t a mountain peak but every step toward it. Imagine celebrating the drafts, the run when you almost quit, the nights spent planning something the world will never see. Imagine if we gave value to the journey itself, to the habit, to the courage it takes to persist in the face of an uncertain outcome.
Because maybe, just maybe, the real accomplishment isn’t the finish line at all. It’s the willingness to keep going even when no one is watching, when no title awaits you, when you’re simply doing the thing for the thing itself. Perhaps we need to start honoring not just the destination but the road that gets us there—because, in the end, isn’t that journey what makes any finish line worth crossing?