We forget. All of us. We forget our worth, our wholeness, our divine identity. Life has a way of doing that — through disappointment, through loss, through the slow accumulation of other people’s opinions of us. And then one day we look in the mirror and don’t quite recognize the person looking back.
But here is what I have learned on this journey — forgetting is not failure. Forgetting is human. The spiritual life is not about never losing your way. It is about learning to find your way back. Again and again and again.
The mystics called this practice returning — a conscious, intentional turning back toward the truth of who you are. Not with guilt or shame but with grace. With the same tenderness you would offer a child who simply wandered too far from home.
The practice of returning asks only one question: Where am I right now, and what would it take to come home to myself?
You don’t need a dramatic revival moment. You don’t need a mountaintop experience. You need only a single breath. A single moment of stillness. A single whispered truth — I am still here. I am still beloved. I am finding my way back.
This is the work. Not arriving. Returning.
And the beautiful thing about returning is this — every time you do it, the path home becomes a little more familiar. A little more worn. A little more yours.
You have been here before. You will find your way back. You always do.