A Mile For Some Stones.

Milestones are romantic until you realise how far you have to walk; A reflection on the true cost of progress.

I’m currently in Prague on an epic retreat with my book club.

For some context, it’s a book club centred around God (being that I’m Christian), and it was born from the whimsical 3 a.m. ideations of a bored, overzealous young kid that is me. This year marks the second year of our retreat, and it’s been absolutely powerful. Not only because a space that provides safety, fellowship and revelation has been created, but because for me every act is a testament to the silent years when nobody was listening.

For the community, this is year 2 of slow, beautifully life-changing moments of friendship and fellowship. However, for me, this is year 7 of dreaming, praying, hoping, wishing and founding this vision God gave me.

Yes, this is another hat I wear, and honestly it’s often felt small and insignificant. But the truth is, and I’m only realising this now, it’s bigger in impact than I could ever expect. For the first time, the dream I’ve always had in my mind, to create “fourth spaces” where believers can overstay, be interrupted and encounter Jesus, is not just happening, it’s changing real lives.

I’ll expand on that in a few days in my open diary here on Substack.

Before I continue, let me introduce myself.

My name’s Josiah Hyacinth. I’ve been a full-time creator for the last decade, telling stories online and adventuring through various entrepreneurial ventures, from the creator space all the way into the start-up world. I’ve worked with some of the world’s leading thinkers, founders and ideators, and produced stories for some of the world’s biggest brands.

If you’re new here, welcome to The Stack. This is my 75-day practice of showing up, writing one honest brick a day on creativity, meaning, and the messy art of beginning again. My goal is to share my thoughts, sharpened by lived experience, in the hope that something here sparks excitement, courage, or a fresh insight for you.

Back to the stones.

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Stones For The Picking.

Today, as I was making sense of the story I find myself in, I stumbled on a note I wrote this morning.

“It’s funny we call them milestones.
Nobody told me I’d have to walk a mile just to pick up stones.”

I sat with it for a minute because it felt true in that annoying, honest way truth usually feels.

We talk about milestones like they’re glossy, celebratory moments.
You know, the job, the move, the breakthrough…the moment you finally feel like you’re doing something with your life.

But milestones seldom come pre-arranged on a pretty timeline. Rather you build them, one stone at a time. And the walk is often longer than you think.

Here’s the part no one mentions.

Milestones look clean from far away, but up close, they are really just small, repeated, often boring acts of effort.

A late email.
A rough draft.
A call you didn’t want to make.
A yes you didn’t think you had.
A walk you almost didn’t take because the stones looked too scattered to bother with.

I mean, after all, wouldn’t you find it a bit crazy watching someone walk around your neighbourhood picking up stones? I know I would

But here’s the truth:

Most of the progress you’ll make in your life will show up as unglamorously and unassuming as stone picking. Dare I say the most meaningful work you’ll ever do won’t even feel like progress until years later.

And then one day people suddenly stop you on your mile-long walk and say,
“Wow, look at your milestones.”

But they won’t know that you walked a mile just to collect each stone.
They won’t know that with each addition, was this new found weight that grew the father you went along. They won’t know what it truly cost.

This is the strange mathematics of growth.

So if today feels slow, or small, or embarrassingly human, good.
You’re closer to a milestone than you realise.

My invitation today is a gentle one: remember that those stones got heavier along the way. Of course you’re tired. You walked a mile for this.

So don’t be too hard on yourself.
Stones aren’t feathers.

Don’t underestimate the thing you did today because it didn’t feel big.
The stones never do.
Until they do.

See you tomorrow,
J.