Good morning God,
I'm closing this journal today. The one that carried me from the Camino to here. The pages are full, and I can feel the ending. It’s strange to hold it, knowing how much life was lived inside those pages.
I flipped it open, not to the beginning but to August 11, a Monday, and there it was: a message from myself to myself. I had written, I have crossed the threshold. I won’t go back.
And I knew it was true back then, but today it resonates even louder. I have crossed over. The weight I carried for years feels lighter, and the parts of me that once hid are standing here with me now, softer, braver, truer. I don’t have to be the one doing or managing anymore. I can just be.
The words I wrote months ago read like prophecy. I didn’t realize how complete that passage would feel now. I see how my healing has come full circle, not in perfection but in presence. My body feels different. Grounded, aligned with my spirit.
So I’ll close this chapter with gratitude. These pages held the crossing, the remembering, the returning. Tomorrow I’ll open a new journal, but it won’t be a new beginning; it will be a continuation of the same sacred dialogue. Me and God. Always.

This morning, as I read from The Book of Awakenings, I was struck by how much the teaching resonated in my heart. The work of untucking myself has brought me to an interesting place. The center of my creation.
There, I see my sweet little two-year-old self, the girl from my earliest memory, and I feel closer to her than ever before. I also see my future self, wise and at peace in her seventies, completely at peace in her years. Between them is me, right here, learning to exist in that peaceful center while the outside world pulls at me with responsibility, fear, influence, and measurement.
Anyone can say they live a centered life, but I’ve come to know that even the most enlightened people struggle. The difference is they’re honest about it. The most unenlightened pretend they don’t.
I see it everywhere, people who want to influence, teach, and guide, yet do not practice what they preach. And I remind myself in the end the truest teacher is the Divine within me.
That’s why I honor my quiet time with God each day. It’s my way back to center, a daily washing away of what doesn’t belong to me.
Still, I sometimes feel the pull to isolate and protect what I’ve untucked. To stay clean and untouched by the noise of the world. But I know that isolation isn’t the answer either.
So I ask:
How do I stay connected to my center while still walking through the world?
How do I engage with life without letting it stick to me?
I have Divine protection. I know this. Yet the world still creeps in.
Maybe the goal isn’t to keep it out, but to keep returning, again and again, to the still point at the center of my being.
This is the ongoing work of being untucked.