In late 2007, I made one of the best decisions of my life: I started a blog. It was a small, hesitant beginning in a season of change, but it quietly shaped my days, helped me find my voice, and connected me to a wider world. This is a reflection on planting small seeds, trusting small beginnings, and how gentle, consistent writing can grow into something strong and lasting.
Planting Small Seeds
I was newly married, at the ripe old age of 41, had just opted out of the tiny training company I had started, and moved to a new city. Bustling Mumbai was such a different beast from Hyderabad and my first attempts to find some training gigs weren’t exciting. They paid too little for all the traveling I would have to do. And the cheapest and fastest means of transport in Mumbai – the local train – was really scary for me. So I opted not to work all.
What does a woman who has been busy most of her life do jobless, without friends and having loads of time on her hand? Spend time on the internet! Okay, so I had heard of blogs before, had been reading some, but never considered writing one. Why not try this out as a hobby, I thought? With a lot of encouragement from my husband (probably to get me out of his hair), I tentatively started a blog on Google’s Blogspot. In a matter of months, I bought my first domain – everydaygyaan.com – Everyday meaning the ordinary and Gyaan a Sanskrit word for wisdom. Everyday wisdom. Sharing my thoughts, a story that inspired me, a prayer or a poem that touched me. And then little by little, I got drawn into the big, sometimes bad, but mostly wonderful world of blogging.
Small seeds grow into strong trees
What I didn’t know then was how quietly powerful those small beginnings would be. I wasn’t trying to build a platform or a personal brand. I wasn’t thinking in terms of readership, consistency, or growth. I was simply showing up to the page, day after ordinary day, putting words to what I was noticing, feeling, learning. One post at a time. One thought at a time.
Over time, those small words became a place I returned to again and again. Writing gave shape to my days when everything else felt uncertain. It kept me company when I didn’t yet have friends, and it helped me make sense of a season that felt unsteady. I wasn’t writing to be read widely. I was writing to stay connected — to myself, to meaning, to the day in front of me.
Then writing brought me friends – online and offline. Writers from other parts of the world. Blogging has connected me with loads of people. It has given me such different perspectives. It has challenged me to be authentic in my writing. It has helped me to be a part of and create communities. In short, it has helped me be a better person.
Keep Showing Up
Looking back now, I can see how those early posts were like seeds planted without a plan. I didn’t know what would grow or how long it would take. I only knew to keep showing up and tending the page.
Somewhere along the way, without my quite realising it, I began to think of myself as a writer. Not because of numbers or milestones, but because writing had become a way of living — of paying attention, of processing the world, of returning to myself. Writing was no longer just something I did; it was something I was becoming, one small, ordinary piece at a time.
If you’re feeling a quiet pull to begin something, even without knowing where it might lead, trust that. Start small. Plant the seed. Write the words, make the space, take the gentle step. Growth doesn’t need certainty — only care, time, and the courage to begin.
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