The End is Where I Begin

There’s something sacred about the ending.

Not the dramatic, slamming-of-the-door kind of ending. Not the credits-rolling, tears-streaming, violins-playing, “cue the lights” kind of ending. I’m talking about the quiet one. The ending that whispers, “Come sit down for a second. Let’s look at this together.”

That’s the one I meet every single day.

No matter what time it is, 10:00 p.m. sharp or 1:14 a.m. because my thoughts are still stretching across the ceiling, find my way to the same place. My corner of calm. My internal soft landing. The space where the day hands me her final words, and I bow my head to listen. It’s not fancy. Sometimes there’s a candle. Sometimes I forget. Sometimes I’m wrapped in my robe like I’m rocking on a porch, talking to the wind. Other nights I’m criss-cross in pakamas, one sock on, and a half-drunk tea I meant to finish four hours ago, but didn't because I'm having the time of my life enjoying the sound of me settling into myself at the end of the day.

But this space? It’s mine, and it’s holy.

See, endings get a bad reputation. They’re accused of finality, of loss, of being the brake that says, “That’s it, we’re done here.” But me? I’ve come to see endings as the dopest, most loving portals into something new. The rebeginning.

Yep. That’s a word now. Rebeginning. A return not to what was… but to what’s ready to be born.

Because at the end of my day, I don’t just close the chapter, I reread it. I scan through the pages with prayer, stillness, reflection, a few questions, and a whole lot of grace.

I ask myself:

• What did I learn today?

• What am I still struggling to learn (without beating myself up)?

• What can I lay down at God’s feet tonight because it’s too heavy to sleep with?

• What part of my energy is ready to be honored more fully tomorrow?

  
  

And in the midst of these quiet questions, life often speaks in the subtlest ways.

Like the time I gently shifted away, feeling someone uncomfortably close in my personal space, only to realize they were using a walking stick and navigating the world with limited sight. That moment reminded me how much we don’t see about what others are carrying. It was a soft nudge to offer grace before assumptions, space before judgment, and compassion even when it’s easier to react.

I truly believe that Life whispers wisdom through moments we almost overlook, if we’re quiet enough to catch it, and humble enough to receive it.

As I journey through the quiet corridors of my thoughts, I always, always find my way back home... To that sacred, steady place within. The place where my soul exhales, My spirit listens, And my truth can simply be. This end-of-day ritual isn’t just a practice, it’s a spiritual homecoming. A mirror that shows me who I am beneath the noise. A medicine that heals what the day tried to fracture. No green juice or rituals required. Just me. My breath. God. And a holy kind of honesty. It’s in this stillness that I lay it all down: The weight. The worry. The wondering.

Because I’ve learned, tomorrow’s clarity, courage, and calm are always born from tonight’s surrender.

You know what I’ve realized? Reflection is my superpower. Not the Instagram-quote kind. But that deep, unfiltered, truth-telling kind. The kind that says: “Girl, you were being a bit much today…” and also “…but you handled that other thing with real growth and grace.”

Both truths get to sit at my table. (Amen, somebody.) And in this funny, holy, wise little moment each night, I lighten my load. I return all that I cannot carry. I celebrate what I did carry. And I ask God to help me recalibrate for whatever is next. Because tomorrow is always waiting. And I want to greet it with fresh eyes and a rested soul.

So before I go, let me leave you with this:

Let the end of your day be the beginning of your next becoming.

Let it be the space where you untangle, unfold, and unzip yourself.

Let it be your peace, your place of power, your check-in with the Divine.

And if you forget? Just try again tomorrow.

Grace is renewable.

And now, if you’ll allow me, I’m going to slip into stillness, softly and intentionally. Let the hush of green noise cradle the atmosphere as I hum the sounds my soul remembers. I’ll travel inward, past the surface, beyond the noise, into the deep and sacred places of myself…

The place where my hand meets God's without hesitation.

Mmm. That felt good to release. That felt like home.

For your own reflection:

What is one thing I can release from today, and what is one thing I want to remember?

Affirmation:

“Every ending I honor becomes a seed for my new beginning.”

Clarity lives here. In this rhythm. In this divine, hilarious, heartfelt ritual of letting go so we can rise again.

See you at the end of today. We’ve got truths to uncover, weight to release, and even more to become.

—

With peace, love, greace and joy

-Yahminah