Vol. 1 Ed.15 August 17, 2025 The Sonnet, the foolishness, and the work

You’re given the form, but you have to write the sonnet yourself. – A Wrinkle in Time 

Dear Brilliant Community,

When I first started re-reading A Wrinkle in Time, I wrote about the tesseract and the towel. I was in the early chapters then, pulled in by the ideas but far from the end. Today, I finished the last chapters, and they hit differently. Mrs. Whatsit’s sonnet metaphor, Mrs. Who’s reminder about foolishness and strength—they landed squarely in the middle of my own work, my own questions, my own daily choices.

I’ve been intentional lately about finishing things. Finishing books. Finishing my education. Finishing personal projects. Not letting something sit half-done while I carry around the idea of it. There’s a discipline—and a different kind of clarity—that only comes from seeing something through to the last page.

I’ve always finished what I start, but sometimes it’s taken me a long time. I’ll linger on the parts that move me most, sit with them, and let them work on me. But then fear—or distraction dressed up as busyness—slows me down. Easier things like TV or errands creep in. And really, distraction is its own kind of fear: a way of stepping aside from the harder work of finishing. But if I’ve chosen a book, a project, or a path, it’s because I believe there’s something in it for me to learn. And I want to finish it—because finishing means I’ve honored that choice.

These days, I’ve been reading across very different shelves: Co-Intelligence by Ethan Mollick (thanks for the recommendation, Hillary ;-)), This Is Me Letting You Go by Heidi Priebe, The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success by Deepak Chopra, and of course A Wrinkle in Time. Together, they’ve been sharpening the way I see everything—my beliefs, my habits, my words, my presence in the world. This isn’t about swirling thoughts. It’s about checking my understanding, refining my path, and deciding—again and again—that if I want the life I say I want, I have to write the lines myself.

Life with its rules is like a sonnet

In the final chapter of A Wrinkle in Time, Mrs. Whatsit tells Meg that life is like a sonnet: It’s a strict form—fourteen lines, a fixed rhythm, a set rhyme pattern. The rules are there whether you like them or not. But within that form, the words are yours. The choices, the meaning, the voice—you write those.

Right after this, Mrs. Who offers Meg something else—something more like a shield than a metaphor. She gives her a line to carry into the hardest moment ahead:  “The foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men.”

In the book, it’s not a sermon—it’s a lifeline. A reminder that what looks small, foolish, or fragile can outmatch anything the world calls strength.

That resonated with me because I know what it feels like to look foolish—like launching a company when the timing wasn’t perfect, or sending proposals into bids where the competition dwarfs me. Self-doubt whispers: “Maybe someone else is better suited. Maybe you don’t belong in the room.” That’s the weakness talking. But I’ve learned to recognize that voice for what it is—the echo of my younger self—and then move anyway.

Fear still shows up. For me, it’s often imposter syndrome: the quiet fear of rejection, of being exposed as not enough. But when I sit with it, I realize the fear isn’t truth—it’s just noise. And I can’t let noise write my story.

I’ve realized something else: yes, I have support, and yes, people want me to win—but at the end of the day, I have to do the work. I have to keep moving. No one is coming to save me. No one else can write these lines for me.

Each proposal I send, each training I finish, each bid I submit, each program I apply to—they’re all lines in my sonnet.

And I’m intentional with them. I’m noticing what I’m noticing. I’m asking if I’m still on the right path. I’m refining my habits and my thinking so my actions match my vision—for my business, for my family, for my legacy.

The rules are the rules. But within them, I get to write something true.

And like Meg, I’m learning that what I once thought was weakness—the hesitation, the half-done—has become the strongest line in the poem. And now I know: finishing is the real strength.

Three Strategic Calls to Action (Clarity-Focused)

1. Reflection: Where in your life are you ‘carrying around the idea’ of something instead of finishing it?

2. Reframing: What so-called  ‘foolish’ step have you avoided—that might actually be your strongest line?

3. Action: What's one thing you'll finish this week? 

With you in the field,

Soyini