There are moments in life when you look at someone — or even at yourself — and realize, almost with a jolt, they’re not who they used to be. Something in their energy has shifted. Something in their spirit has stretched beyond the borders of its old shape. And in that instant, you understand a quiet truth: we are all shedding versions of ourselves the way trees release leaves that no longer serve the season ahead.

I’ve learned not to hold people hostage to the selves they’ve already outgrown. We all carry earlier versions of ourselves — the unhealed, the unaware, the reactive, the afraid. These versions weren’t wrong; they were simply incomplete. They were the necessary scaffolding for the soul we were slowly becoming.

But I’ve seen how easily a person can be reduced to their lowest moment. How quickly a single chapter becomes the entire story in someone else’s memory. It’s as if the world prefers the simplicity of a fixed identity over the mystery of a human being in evolution.

Yet the spirit doesn’t stay still. It expands. It deepens. It learns the language of compassion through trial, error, and grace.

People outgrow their old skin. They stumble, they awaken, they soften. And if life is kind, they try again with a little more wisdom than before. We all have chapters we wish we could rewrite, but that doesn’t mean we haven’t earned the right to begin a new one.

I’ve watched friends who once lived in chaos become a steady ground for others. I’ve seen people who once reacted with fire learn to respond with gentleness. I’ve witnessed transformations so subtle and sacred that you only notice them when you look back and realize the person before you is no longer the person they once were.

Spiritual growth is rarely dramatic. It doesn’t announce itself with trumpets or lightning. Most of the time, it’s quiet — a slow, steady recalibration of the heart. It’s the soul choosing peace over pride, understanding over judgment, presence over performance.

And when we cling to outdated versions of someone, we deny them the dignity of their evolution. We miss the miracle of who they’ve worked so hard to become. We forget that the divine is always at work in the background, reshaping us in ways we don’t always see.

No one should be permanently defined by a self they’ve already shed. We are all in motion — spiritually, emotionally, energetically. We are all learning, unlearning, and learning again. We are all trying to return to the truest version of ourselves.

If we can offer grace to our own becoming, then offering that same grace to others isn’t just kindness — it’s alignment. It’s recognizing that every soul is on a journey, and none of us is finished yet.

And maybe that’s the most sacred part of being human: we are always becoming someone new.

If we can extend grace to our own imperfect becoming, then offering that same grace to others isn’t just kindness — it’s wisdom. It’s an acknowledgment that growth is the most human thing we do.

And maybe the most beautiful.

No one deserves to be permanently defined by a self they have already outgrown. We are all unfinished manuscripts, revising ourselves through experience, humility, and time. If we can accept that our own becoming is ongoing, then offering that same grace to others is not just compassion — it is wisdom.

Dolby

Reflection

• “Think of someone you’ve written off. Is it possible you’re judging a person who no longer exists?”
• “How do you personally handle it when people try to pull you back into an old version of yourself?”
• “Who is someone in your life that has changed for the better? Let’s celebrate growth—tag them or share their win below.”

The Monk and the Butterfly