✨AI Generated
how do I know when to let go?
By Carolina Oquendo
I had been sitting with this for weeks — the question, the tension, the quiet ache in my stomach. It began as a whisper, a subtle but persistent humming that something in me was no longer willing to keep walking the same path. At first, I thought it was about the article: the guidelines I needed to follow or the structure of the monthly column. But the more I sat with it, the more I realized it wasn’t about the article at all. It was about the part of me that created it, that needed it, and that was now being asked to let it go.
The realization didn’t come with fireworks or a grand revelation. It arrived gently, in the silence of my office, in the quiet anguish behind my chest, in the growing clarity that the version of myself who birthed that article no longer needed to exist. She had fulfilled her role, built a bridge I could walk across, and now she was ready to rest. And me? I was ready to continue without her.
This clarity didn’t appear all at once. It took days of restless attempts at writing. One day, I sat at my desk staring at the blinking cursor, fingers hovering over the keyboard, trying to force something coherent into existence. But the only words that came out were disconnected, a barrage of emotions all jumbled together, and I was unable to spin them into a grounded story.
I walked to the kitchen, made some café con leche, came back, and deleted everything. Each time I found a thread, it unraveled as soon as I tried to grasp it. Frustrated, I stood up again, put on my walking shoes, and stepped outside. The late afternoon air was warm and heavy, humming with cicadas and the quiet churn of distant traffic.
I decided to walk around the block to clear the static in my thoughts and find a way to reconnect. As I turned a corner, lost in my own inner unraveling, I saw someone sitting on a bench that hadn’t been there yesterday. I stopped, unsure of what to do. He turned to me, smiled, and nodded, shifting slightly to the left so I could sit beside him. Yes, it was the Master.
ME: Hello, Dear Master. I’m at a crossroads, and I don’t know if it’s time to step away, or if I’m just afraid.
MASTER: Let’s not rush into labels. Sometimes what you call fear is actually light making its way into places long kept hidden. And that light? It doesn’t break down your world with violence. It cracks it open gently in the mind, in the bones, in the beliefs you’ve protected and based your whole life upon.
You might feel like you’re breaking, but you’re actually being shown how to become whole. The light comes in to help free you, even from yourself.
ME: But what if I’m walking away too soon? What if I’m being impulsive?
MASTER: Is there really such a thing as “too soon” when you’re following yourself? The mind wants to measure everything — timing, success, recognition — but none of that applies here. What you’re feeling isn’t impulse, it’s readiness. And yes, readiness can feel like fear, especially when you’ve built a life around being dependable, grounded, useful, productive.
The thing is, you’ve outgrown the mirror that used to reflect who you were. You’re staring into it now, hoping to see your truth, but now all it shows is a ghost.
ME: But am I being ungrateful? Writing this monthly article meant so much to me. It gave me a voice, helped me come out of hiding. Isn’t it wrong to just let it go?
MASTER: What if letting go is the ultimate act of gratitude? Not clinging, not preserving it in amber, but honoring it by trusting what it led you to. This wasn’t just a writing project; it was a path that brought you to a new version of yourself: the one who’s ready to write from a whole new place.
ME: I keep hearing these voices in my head: What will everyone think? Will they think less of me? I know it’s just fear, but it makes me doubt myself.
MASTER: Doubt isn’t your enemy. It’s a checkpoint, a reminder that you’re crossing into unknown territory. You’re not betraying anything or anyone, you’re simply listening to what has already shifted inside you.
ME: There’s also a part of me that feels that if I stop writing this column, I’ll lose the one thing that made me visible.
MASTER: You were never visible because of the column. You were visible because you dared to speak from your truth. And now, that truth wants to explore a new voice, a new feeling. There’s a new consciousness — the trinity of the I Am, the Master, and the human working in unison. The human has its experiences, now chosen and joyful. The Master brings wisdom in the moment, not years later. And the I Am simply radiates its presence.
Visibility isn’t about being seen by others. It’s about seeing yourself, and allowing that self to shine, even when the form or expression changes.
ME: Then why does it still feel like a loss?
MASTER: Because it is. And that’s sacred. Don’t bypass the grief. This identity was with you for years. It helped you open up, see yourself, meet a new facet. Letting it go doesn’t mean it didn’t matter. It means you’re ready to meet your life without that crutch.
ME: But how do I trust this new path? There’s no roadmap. What’s next?
MASTER: You don’t need a map. What you need is presence. There’s no going back, not really, but there’s also no going forward in the way you once imagined. There’s only Now – this moment, this breath, this choice – and that’s where your wisdom lives. That’s where the divine mind begins to speak, not with logic, but with knowing.
The old identity was about structure, about proving something. The new one isn’t about proving anything at all; it’s about being. That’s the difference between intelligence and awareness. The mind wants steps, but the Master already knows the dance.
ME: And the stories I want to write now, the ones that feel strange and symbolic and maybe too much, what do I do with them?
MASTER: That’s exactly where your light wants to move next – into stories that bend the mind and open the heart, into myth and metaphor, into the wisdom hidden in symbols. It’s not a deviation; it’s an evolution of your voice.
Just breathe. And feel what it’s like to meet yourself beyond the old mirrors. No more waiting for permission. This is what it feels like to live from the I Am. No more hiding. No more going back, and strangely, no going forward either. It’s all Now. Right here. Not someday. Not tomorrow. It’s here. It’s Now. It is the “I Am Here.”
Note from the Author:
This story is inspired by a very real turning point. After three years of writing the Dear Master articles, I found myself standing at a new inner threshold. The form no longer fit, and the voice that once needed structure began asking for something more.
This is how I know it’s time. Not because anything was wrong, but because everything in me feels the readiness to step into a new space. Dear Master helped me stop hiding and recover a voice I had long forgotten.
Thank you for walking with me this far. And thank you, dear Shaumbra, for receiving these words. I don’t know where this next voice will take me, but I trust it will open the right path for me.
Take care,
Carolina
Thank you Caroline. Your story deeply touches me and I recognize so much in it. I resonated most with ‘What if letting go is the ultimate act of gratitude? Not clinging, not preserving it in amber, but honoring it by trusting what it led you to. This wasn’t just a writing project; it was a path that brought you to a new version of yourself: the one who’s ready to write from a whole new place’
So wise, so true!
Gratidão!
Very brave to shed a layer of yourself, thank you for creating and sharing the master series, I always look forward to reading it every month.
Dearest Carolina, I know your “Dear Master” column touched so many each month and I also understand how difficult it is to let it go. Just wanted to thank you for all you’ve shared and illuminated with Shumbra the last three years and to honor your Masterful Self-Love decision in releasing it. I think it’s a time of letting go for many of us ~ letting go of the spiritual self who did so much to bring in the light, and now we are birthing the part of ourselves that can just bask in the light. Finally. I saw myself in your article and I cheered your decision to retire that part of yourself. I honor you, I thank you, I see you ~ and you’re beautiful. Enjoy the next phase of the Beyond, Sister.
Love,
Kate
And thank YOU, Carolina 💖 For sharing your truth and your journey with us. For having the cottage to let go and allow whatever comes next. And for sharing this turning point with such grace. Whatever emerges next for you feels that it’s already beautiful ✨✨✨
Your story is filled with light and beauty. Thank you for sharing your truth!
Ahí es exactamente donde tu luz quiere dirigirse: hacia historias que conmueven la mente y abren el corazón, hacia el mito y la metáfora, hacia la sabiduría oculta en los símbolos. No es una desviación; es una evolución de tu voz. Gracias Carolina por tus articulos desde hace tres años, es el Maestro quie nos guia CONFIA en el. Yo vivi este momento, de entrar en la sabiduria oculta en los simbolos, y fue porque estaba lista , asi como tu lo estas para soltar. Gracias por tu voz.
I very much enjoyed this article. Good for you, Carolina, for trusting yourself so much and sharing it with Shaumbra! I think we all might see ourselves in your story, especially now. Thank you💖
Dear Carolina,
your pen has been both temple and bridge. Throughout these years, every word in Dear Master was more than writing—it was a dance between soul and human, a clear and heartfelt expression of your meeting with yourself amidst the ordinary, the uncertain, and the sacred.
Today, reading this final piece, I don’t just feel a farewell. I feel a conscious closing, a profound gesture of love toward the form that once held you and the voice now ready to soar beyond all previous structures. This is not a goodbye—it is an act of mastery. Because when something is released from truth, nothing is lost; everything is transfigured.
I honor the courage to name fear without disguising it, to face the empty mirror without turning away, to allow the new voice to arrive without a map or manual. I recognize, most of all, the humility and sovereignty in saying: “That part of me fulfilled its purpose, and I now let it go in gratitude.”
You have planted so much through these writings. You were visible not because of the platform or the recognition, but because your truth dared to show itself—bare and luminous. Now that same truth moves into new territories. It needs no permission. It needs no mold. It only needs presence.
Thank you for what you gave.
Thank you for what you now release.
And thank you for what is to come,
for it already smells of new earth, of symbol and myth,
of the Master’s voice, no longer in disguise.
We are here with you,
without expectation,
simply celebrating the natural blooming
of the one who no longer needs to hold what once held her.
Hello Carolina, I am so happy for you. Go Human & Divine… It always was a pleasure reading you. So beautifully expressed! Sacred path unfolding, Grateful for your sharing. It is time to fly & soar. Thank-you.
Thank you very much for all your articles. Your “column” have always been helpful and moving for me… touching deeply the part of me that was undergoing transformation at that moment. Whish you good luck with anything what emerge. :)))) One more time thank you for your time and writing.
Gracias Carolina, han Sido artículos geniales… Lo que venga para ti seguramente será genial también…un abrazo
Grazie. Non vedo l’ora di leggere le tue nuove storie. Grazie per questi tre anni e grazie per ciò che verrà.
Carolina, you ride the waves of change with the beauty of a true Shaumbra.
I am grateful for all you’ve shared with us — your words have always landed with perfect timing, touching both heart and soul.
I have been going through these same kinds of thoughts What if I am wrong? How can I leave behind x y and z? What about my guilt? Am I being selfish?
I feel them all dissolving as I go step by step into the new. Thank you for letting me know I am not alone, and all is well.,🥰
Danke, liebe Carolina! Fühle so viel mit!
Muchísimas gracias por todo lo que has aportado 💙