Bound Lines and Book Spines

By: Kristi Cruise  There are moments in life when you can almost hear the click of something falling into place—like a cosmic lock turning with perfect ease and you have the Key. You don’t have to force it, chase it, or convince it. The doors swing open as if they’ve been waiting for you all along. "Walk through the open doors," with a set of gold Keys in hand.  Lately, that’s how life feels for me. Every small choice, every leap of faith, every late night and early morning (I am not a morning person) of work and wondering—it’s as though they’ve been stacking in silence, forming a paved path that now suddenly glows with clarity like the Keys I have created. The people I meet, the conversations I have, even the setbacks that once felt unbearable… they all fit together like puzzle pieces I couldn’t see before. It’s humbling. It’s electrifying. And it’s teaching me something profound: when we align with our deepest purpose, the universe conspires to meet us there. It doesn’t m...

Sometimes the universe doesn’t whisper—it shouts. Not through ease, but through resistance. Not by smoothing the path, but by forcing us to choose where to place our energy. Alchemy isn’t magic in the old sense. It’s the process of turning something raw and heavy into something radiant and valuable. It's the ability and the choice to shift focus. And often, the raw material we’re given is discomfort, and that's ok, because the universe is always lining up the greatest good for us.  When we decide to show up fully—clear-headed, present, sovereign and unwilling to numb ourselves—the energy that might have been swallowed by distraction transforms. The weight becomes fuel and the unvierse flows right through you. What once felt like mud underfoot suddenly powers the roots of something bigger, something alive. This is the quiet gift of clarity: it makes space for creation. It says, you can channel what hurts into what heals, what drains into what drives, what breaks into what bui...

Today he would have turned forty-seven. Three days before he died in December of 2018 he called me to say goodbye and to make me promise to leave my position at a company I had created and grown for a decade. Unwillingly, I promised. He promised to help me from up there the way he did from down here. And on his birthday today, I feel his loving spirit wrapped around me like a warm hug.  Birthdays measure more than time. They measure the distance between who we were and who we’re becoming, the people we miss and the futures they still shape. I didn’t plan it this way, but I spent today, his birthday, drafting a sponsorship package that could become the most meaningful partnership of my career—a financial literacy arm that helps kids feel confident with money. I don’t think it’s an accident. My north star is simple: give kids tools they can actually use—short lessons, approachable stories, quick games, books (obviously) and small actions they can try the same day. No lectures. No ...