10/28/2025
Your Weekly Roundup
Choosing Presence in the Storm: Finding Grace in What Remains
This week reminded me that growth often arrives quietly, wrapped in fatigue, longing, and the steady rhythm of doing what must be done. I began the week weary, yet determined to create. A deep truth surfaced early: it is far more painful to block the creative flow than to express it. That realization became a thread through the days that followed—each choice to show up, each act of creation, was an empowering declaration of faith.
The days unfolded with both tenderness and testing. Working alongside my Momma to organize my Weekly Roundups into book form became more than a project; it was ceremony. Each theme—courage, faith, love—became a mirror for the journey itself. I could have chosen to let AI index it quickly, yet something in me knew that slow, mindful collaboration was the truer path. It reminded me that sacred work is not measured in speed, but in presence.
There were moments that tested my equilibrium, especially in relationships that have long carried patterns of imbalance. This time, rather than slipping into old roles of appeasement or argument, I stood firm in my peace. Remaining grounded in truth instead of reaction brought clarity. I could finally see how often I have hoped for change outside myself when Spirit was inviting me to claim change within. It became a turning point—a recognition that my purpose is not to fix or mother anyone, but to honor my divine creative path and live from that truth.
Through ceremony and reflection, I felt a shift in identity take root. The energy of the Crone—wise, sovereign, compassionate—rose within me as an anchor. This stage of life feels like home, where self-trust and spiritual authority flow without apology. The more I embody that, the more grace enters even the most difficult exchanges.
The week carried moments of light, too—creative sparks, laughter, unexpected affirmation. An invitation from a publisher arrived as if by divine design, validating my path as a writer and messenger. In contrast, unexpected hardships appeared as well: car troubles, financial tightness, health concerns for others. Yet through it all, I noticed something remarkable—peace no longer leaves me when difficulty arrives. I no longer confuse chaos with crisis. Even in uncertainty, I trust the unfolding.
There were tears, of course—grief for what is fading, for those preparing to leave this world, for the tenderness of love that cannot always heal what it touches. Yet those tears felt purifying, washing away what no longer serves. Through loss, I saw beauty. Through exhaustion, I found faith. Through stillness, I felt the pulse of life guiding me forward. With every beat of my heart I am reminded that life is a gift, allowing the pain to become exquisite.
In Closing
By week’s end, I realized that presence is my greatest act of devotion. Whether creating art, tending home, or navigating relationship storms, the call remains the same: stay awake, stay kind, stay true. Growth does not require perfection—only willingness. As I surrender control and release what has completed its purpose, I make space for grace to move through me. In this space, Spirit breathes new life into old wounds and transforms them into wisdom.
With love and faith,
Jules
Art Mystic Wellness
Journal Prompts:
1. Where in my life am I holding on to something that has already served its purpose?
2. How do I recognize the difference between chaos and true crisis?
3. What creative or spiritual practice brings me back into presence when life feels heavy?
Affirmation:
I release what no longer serves and allow divine grace to flow through every moment of my becoming.
Simple Grounding Meditation:
Find a comfortable seat and rest your hands over your heart. Breathe deeply, in through your nose and out through your mouth. With each exhale, imagine releasing what feels heavy. With each inhale, draw in the golden light of presence. Continue for three minutes, noticing how your body softens and your spirit steadies. When ready, whisper quietly, “I am here.”
Photo: Fall in Lincoln Park.
Seattle, WA