Full Circle: The Blessing of Being Wrong

Excerpt — Full Circle: The Blessing of Being Wrong

The sidewalks here are narrow, sometimes nearly nonexistent. They hug the edges of twisting Andalusian roads, barely wide enough for one person. You learn to listen more than look—using your ears to sense the hum of an approaching car before it whips around a bend. Every step becomes an act of awareness, part instinct, part surrender. The body turns into a sensor for survival and grace.

And as I walk, I think about how often I’ve been wrong—about faith, about people, about the world itself.

For years, I lived inside a small, certain version of truth.

Now I know that truth isn’t still—it moves. It bends like these hills.

Maybe perfection isn’t enlightenment at all.

Maybe it’s the death of curiosity.

So I keep walking—legs strong, ears alert, mind open—grateful for every wrong turn that led me here.