It had been a while since I last baked sourdough. So, this past weekend, I pulled out my starter and gave it another go. I was a little unsure how it would turn out—my hands were out of practice—but to my surprise, it wasn’t bad at all. As I folded the dough and watched it rise over the course of the day, I found myself thinking back to the first time I tried making sourdough. That loaf? A dense, underwhelming brick. It took me five tries to finally get it right.
Eventually, I went one step further and decided to make my own starter from scratch. The whole process takes 7–10 days to build a viable culture. And then, the real work begins—keeping it alive. Sourdough starters need attention, regular feeding, and the right environment to thrive. I’ve lost two to neglect (may they ferment in peace.) But my third has been with me now for over seven years. It’s grown with me. It’s proof that something fragile can become something lasting with enough patience, care, and persistence.
What’s funny is that I wouldn’t call myself a naturally patient person. I get antsy waiting 15 seconds for the elevator. And yet, I’ve willingly waited 1.5 hours in line for a bowl of udon. I can spend days tending to sourdough, two weeks brewing kombucha, or even a year fermenting miso. There’s something about these processes that invites me to slow down. Maybe because I know they can’t be rushed. Or maybe because the effort, care, and time lead to something transformational.
I don’t just mean the end product. I mean the personal transformation that happens along the way: the mistakes, the waiting, the quiet discipline, the joy when it works, and the humility when it doesn’t.
That emotional arc? It reminds me of what it’s been like building CloudMind.
This June marks two years since we began building BRiGHTPATH, our AI companion designed to enhance the quality of life for elderly individuals facing memory challenges and support their caregivers. The concept emerged earlier—shaped by personal experiences, conversations with caregivers, and a vision to create something meaningful in eldercare.
We’re now preparing for our second pilot, with more users and care providers giving us deeper, more nuanced feedback. It’s a big milestone, but it didn’t come quickly. It could not have.
There have been trade-offs. We’ve had to prioritize wisely, say no to shiny detours, and work with limited resources. We’ve dealt with rejections, roadblocks, and weeks where it felt like nothing was rising.
And yet—we’ve kept feeding the vision and kept believing. Because even in the uncertainty, we could sense something worthwhile was taking shape.
Like a starter that takes weeks to mature—or miso that ferments for a year (or two!) — this journey takes time and patience. It hasn’t always been easy. But it’s been deeply worth it.
And that’s the beauty of working on something that matters. You start with a simple idea—something alive but unformed—and over time, with care and iteration, it transforms into something strong enough to share with others, something that can nourish and support others long after you first begin.
I keep this seven-year-old starter on my counter as a gentle reminder: patience isn’t just a virtue. It’s a practice. And persistence often is what turns potential into purpose.
As we head into this next chapter with CloudMind, I’m leaning on that reminder more than ever.
What’s something in your life that required patience—and turned out to be worth the wait? I’d love to hear about it.
Until then, stay curious, lead with passion, and inspire others.
-Dr. M-