Here's what I think really happens when we heal: we don't become people who never hurt. We become people who can hurt and still love. Who can be afraid and still show up. Who can carry old sorrows and still make room for new joy.

Sometimes the greatest miracles aren’t the dramatic ones but the quiet synchronicities that slip into our daily lives. For me, it was a fifty-dollar rocking chair—the very one I had just seen in meditation—waiting for me on Facebook Marketplace. It wasn’t just furniture; it was a reminder that the Divine meets us not only in the extraordinary but in the ordinary, whispering: You are seen, held, and loved.

The most extraordinary thing about you isn’t your ability to rise above being human — it’s the way you live it, fully, honestly, without apology.

When we subtly believe we’re not enough, we block abundance without realizing it. We undercharge. We over-deliver. We hesitate to ask for what we deserve. Over time, your subconscious gets the message that you cannot handle receiving and you stop attracting what it is that you want.

Money doesn’t ask you to prove your worth. It responds to your belief in it.

Debt, like any spiritual presence, wants to be seen for what it really is - not just what we fear it to be. When we strip away the shame and storylines, we find that many of our debts have actually helped us. They held us through something. Got us somewhere. Taught us something. They were never meant to define our worth. They simply wanted to be honored.

“…trust hasn’t come from reading spiritual memes or repeating soothing mantras. It has come from lived experience. From surrendering, again and again, when things didn’t go according to plan, and discovering that what showed up instead was often more spacious, more beautiful, or more aligned than what I had originally mapped out.”

…scarcity is rarely just about money. It shows up in our fear of not having enough time to rest. In our guilt over asking for help. In our belief that love must be earned or that joy must be justified. These are all echoes of the same untruth: there is not enough.

From a spiritual lens, this is simply not the case.

If we only ever think of money in terms of earning and spending, we miss out on the deeper spiritual invitation: to heal our relationship with it, just like we would with any wounded or misunderstood relationship in our life.

The parts of us that hold our money fears are often burdened by deeper wounds including old family legacies, cultural messages, moments when we were told (directly or indirectly) that we weren’t safe, valuable, or good enough.

We can’t undo those experiences. But we can tend to the parts that still carry them.

We take vitamins to nourish our bodies—small doses, given regularly, that add up to resilience over time. What if we treated surrender the same way? Not a massive dose once a year in crisis, but daily nourishment for the soul?

If we’re willing to let it, heartbreak can open us. I don’t mean the tidy, self-help version of “everything happens for a reason.” I mean something messier, deeper, and more real. When the heart cracks, there’s a chance—just a chance—that we can allow more love to flow. Both out and in.

Heartbreak may feel endless, but it can’t last forever—reality is built on oscillation: night/day, inhale/exhale, ebb/flow. Suffering is terrible; it is also temporary.”

There is always a cost to spiritual growth. An old belief, an old identity, an old comfort must be surrendered. But in exchange, we receive something far more valuable: a blessing. A deeper truth. A more authentic path. A faith that is no longer borrowed, but earned through encounter.