You're the gardener of barely-started things. Where others need results to stay interested, you can feed a fragile beginning โ a habit, a skill, a friendship โ on faith alone, and you feel growth in increments too small for anyone else to register.
The cost is protectiveness. You keep the seedling covered so long it never weathers, hesitate to show work that's ready, and can mistake tending for progress when what the thing actually needs is sun and strangers.
The waxing crescent is the first sliver of visible light โ proof of concept, written in the sky. The practice is showing the small thing before you're sure. It's sturdier than it looks. So are you.