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The Day I Realized My Highest Self Shops at Target

Nov 16, 2025

 The Day I Realized My Highest Self Shops at Target

I used to think my Highest Self lived on a mountaintop somewhere, barefoot, glowing, probably sipping herbal tea and writing in a linen journal.

Turns out, she shops at Target.

I met her in the toilet paper aisle on a Tuesday afternoon.

 

I was there doing the usual: trying to be efficient, comparing labels, wondering if I should’ve made a list.

And then it happened.

I caught my reflection in the shiny red cart, hair in a messy bun, comfy sweatshirt, just... me.

And I laughed.


Because she was right there, not in meditation, not in ritual, not in some distant “someday.”


She was humming along to the overhead music, tossing toothpaste into the cart, and reminding me to breathe.

 

That moment shifted something.


My Highest Self isn’t waiting for me to become “better.”


She’s not somewhere I have to climb toward.


She’s already here, in my tiny choices, in the way I look at light, in how I speak to myself when I forget.

She’s not asking me to fix.

She’s asking me to notice.

 

So now, when I feel scattered, I try something simple:
I imagine what she’d notice right now.

 The smell of coffee.
 The way sunlight lands on my wrist.
 The small miracle that I’m still here, still breathing, still trying.

That’s how I remember her.

 

If you ever feel far from your Highest Self, maybe she’s not gone, maybe she’s just out shopping.

Check the aisles of your own life.


She’s probably there, humming to herself, waiting for you to notice she never left.

 

A gentle reflection on what it really means to connect with your Highest Self, not by striving, but by noticing the sacred hiding in the ordinary.


The moment you stop searching for your Highest Self, you start hearing her again — in the quiet, in your breath, in the space between thoughts.


If you’d like a few minutes to reconnect, you can listen to Quiet Remembering here.
Just close your eyes, and let yourself be held by the quiet that’s always been here.


Love,
Cassidy 

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