A Reflection of God
I used to think the answers I sought were waiting for me somewhere else.
In the next conversation, the next book, the next milestone. I thought they were things to be acquired, owned, or achieved. But the longer I searched, the more it felt like the world was holding its breath, watching me, waiting for me to catch on to the joke.
The joke is this: there was never anything to find. There was never anything missing. The search itself was the distraction—the thing that kept me from seeing what has always been here. We don’t lack answers. We’re surrounded by them in every moment, every decision, every action.
What we lack is stillness. Awareness. The courage to sit with ourselves long enough to feel the discomfort of what already is. I’ve thought about how often we’re sold the idea of lack. That we’re incomplete. That we need to add something, gain something, fix something before we’re whole.
But it’s a lie—and a profitable one.
Whole industries thrive on convincing us we’re broken, then offering us the tools to fix what was never actually wrong. The truth is quieter. It’s less marketable. The truth is that there’s nothing out there that can complete what’s already whole.
We don’t need to be fixed. We don’t need to search. We only need to remember who we are. And remembering isn’t glamorous. It’s not the kind of thing you can frame on a wall or put on a resume.
It’s the slow, unremarkable process of sitting with the parts of yourself you’ve ignored or rejected. It’s the quiet realization that everything you thought you needed was always here. The answers weren’t hiding. You were.
This isn’t an easy truth. It’s easier to believe the answers are somewhere else, waiting to be found, than to accept they’ve been here all along. But easier doesn’t mean true. And it certainly doesn’t mean better.
So if I could say one thing to the younger version of myself, it would be this: stop searching for answers as if they’re prizes to be won. Sit down. Be still. Listen. The thing you’re looking for isn’t out there. It’s here, in the silence, in the knowing, in the moments you’ve spent running from yourself.
It’s a strange kind of relief to realize that the search is over. That there was never a map, never a destination.
Just this: me, sitting quietly, remembering what I’ve always known.
I’m The One. I’m It. I’m God. I’m Source. I’m Consciousness. I’m the Divine. I’m the thing I’m seeking. I’m the thing in my prayers.
And so are you…
Cheers for now,
Cam