What Is Real Never Changes

“What is real never changes.”
These words were scrawled on the first page of my Mother’s journal. I gifted her the journal when she retired in 2007 & was thrilled to find it again recently when sorting some of her belongings.

I’ve been turning the phrase over and over in my mind since then, contemplating what compelled her to jot it down. Did she read it somewhere? Hear it on television? Did she write it herself? Was it her mantra? A reference to her soul as separate from her body as she sensed her body beginning to weary? What does it mean?

Mom passed away almost a year ago. So I will never know exactly the what or the why of her quote.
It wasn’t until I stumbled upon this photo of myself at age 6 that I began to get a sense of it for myself.

The photo is of me, 40 years ago.
With a book. Laser focus.
Contented.

And this photo is of me now, taken over the weekend by my love.

Same wild hair. Still rockin’ my denim.
Book in hand, therefore…
Contented.

All these years later I have way more experiences & way less edges.

But what is real in my core has never changed.
The divine? Absolutely.

And on some level or another I’m still just the girl with her nose in a book (or journal)
trying to make sense of the world.

That’s what’s real to me.
What’s real to you?
When do you feel most like yourself?
Share, please.