Today at a glance
The long game in leadership and manifestation
The architecture of vision
The power of patience and quiet devotion to a dream
We were walking up a small cobblestoned pathway in the town of Evora, nestled in the Alentejo wine region of Portugal.
Narrow as European streets are prone to be.
And all of a sudden it opened up to a clearing.
To the very image that inspired this entire trip to Portugal.
Ancient 16th century ruins from Roman times. The Temple of Diana in the middle of town, its pillars rising up like elegant toothpicks.
The roof long gone.
It took my breath away.
Why?
Because I remembered the first time I laid eyes on that image in the glossy pages of Conde Nast Traveller.
I was drawn to it like a magnet, and said under my breath “One day. I’m gonna visit that town and see those ruins.”

A year passed.

I sent others to visit the town if they were visiting Portugal and Lisbon was too packed.
I had images of it taped to my mirror. But the stars weren't aligning for me to go.
Until this April when I planned the annual trip for Matt's birthday.
At first, we toyed with the idea of an eco-lodge in Brazil, but it was too outdoorsy and swim focused for our group. So I shared this itinerary. Two hours outside Lisbon was a wine resort with 2000 acres of property. It would where we would lay our heads at night after visiting Evora.
Luis, who had an archaeological degree at University of Evora, would give us a history tour of the city.
It took that long—for the vision to find its moment.
And when I finally stood in front of those ruins, I realized: the temple was always there.
Waiting.
But I had to be ready.
Psychologists have correctly said that “when one is truly ready for a thing, it puts in its appearance.”—- Think and Grow Rich by Napoleon Hill
In a world that demands instant gratification, there’s something radical about holding a vision close for years. Not forcing it. Not abandoning it. Just trusting that the right time will come—and that when it does, it won’t feel rushed.
It will feel inevitable.
Evora reminded me that in leadership, some things can’t be speed-ran.
Great ideas take root quietly.
The biggest transformations begin long before anyone sees them.
And sometimes the most powerful part of a dream is what it builds in you while you wait.
Reflection prompt:
What vision have you quietly held onto—on a mirror, in your journal, in your heart?
What would it mean to stop forcing the timeline—and trust that it's still unfolding?
But not every vision taped on my mirror made it into reality.
Next to the temple, I had taped an image of a hot air balloon ride. High above Portugal’s Alentejo wine region.
It got canceled due to rain.
I had also envisioned working side by side with a client here.
Me, coaching.
Her, building.
Two women, mapping out strategy.
That didn’t happen either.
And yet—I didn’t feel loss. I felt peace.
Because this trip taught me something I hadn’t named before:
Some visions are meant to manifest.
Some are just meant to move you forward.
The Roman temple showed me what it means to build something that lasts.
The hot air balloon reminded me we can’t always control how or when beauty shows up.
And the client I didn’t work with reminded me that not every idea needs to be fulfilled to be meaningful.
Leadership requires discernment—knowing what to pursue, what to release, and what to let live quietly on the mirror a little longer.
Reflection prompt:
Which of your visions are still waiting for the right season?
Which ones were never meant to manifest—but served you anyway?
What would it look like to honor the process of dreaming, not just the outcome?
A vision that becomes a dream and then a reality months or years later is truly worth the wait. Beautiful piece