Built Like the Tide: What I’m Learning About Growth, Patience, and Showing Up

There’s a version of growth we’re often sold that looks fast, loud, and obvious. Big announcements. Clear milestones. Before-and-after photos.

And then there’s the kind of growth that feels slower. Quieter. Almost invisible while it’s happening.

That’s the kind I’ve been sitting with lately.

Living and working by the ocean has taught me that not everything meaningful announces itself. Tides don’t always rush. Reefs aren’t built in a season. Some of the strongest things are formed by repetition—by showing up again and again, even when it feels uneventful.

Koholā has grown that way. I’ve grown that way.

Not in one big leap, but through early mornings, small conversations, returning customers, thoughtful collaborations, trial and error, and a lot of listening. To people. To place. To myself. To my employees.

There are days when running a small business feels incredibly aligned—like everything is flowing. And there are days when it feels uncertain, heavy, or slow. I’ve learned not to treat those days as signs that something is wrong. They’re part of the rhythm.

The ocean doesn’t apologize for pulling back before it surges forward. It doesn’t explain itself. It trusts the process it has always known.

I’m learning to do the same.

Patience, I’ve realized, isn’t passive. It’s active trust. It’s continuing to show up with care—whether that looks like refining a recipe, saying no to something that isn’t aligned, or taking extra time to do things the right way instead of the fast way. I’ve said no to events I knew wouldn’t work well. I’ve had to close on days I knew I couldn’t make it work. That’s hard to do. But it’s important.

Koholā isn’t just about coffee. It’s about creating something rooted - something that reflects where we are and how we move through the world. Community-driven. Ocean-minded. Thoughtful. Real.

If you’re building something—whether it’s a business, a relationship, a new chapter, or simply a life that feels more like your own—I hope this is your reminder that slow doesn’t mean stagnant. Quiet doesn’t mean weak. And consistency, even when no one is watching, matters.

Like the tide, we’re allowed to ebb and flow.

Thank you for being here, for supporting small and local, and for meeting us in these in-between moments. They are where most of the real work happens.

Stay Caffeinated my Friends