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This photo was taken on September 2, 2025 at the Ermita de San Nicolás on the Camino de Santiago — a small chapel and refuge filled with centuries of prayers, hopes, tears, and quiet faith. What caught my eye was this simple table of taper candles. Some were brand new. Others were burned low. Each one resting in its own little holder — some with angels — against ancient, textured stone walls that have stood for hundreds of years. It felt magical to me. The next day in my jour

This was taken August 18,2025, day one of my third Camino Frances. It was a magical, mystical, misty, magnificent Monday morning on the Camino. The fog was so thick I couldn’t see far ahead of me. Not to either side. Not even behind me. I could hear cowbells in the distance, the breeze in my ears, and the steady rhythm of my own footsteps. It was cold and drizzly, and I was very much by myself — which felt peaceful and magical. And to be honest, a bit unsettling. In that mom

Today I’m feeling very proud of myself.I finished a personal project this past week — one that has lived in my heart for a long time. I’m not quite ready to share all the details yet, but I wanted to mark this moment with gratitude. So often we rush from one goal to the next without pausing to notice how far we’ve come. But my Camino taught me something different — that it’s important to stop, even briefly, and honor the small and not-so-small milestones along the way. To sit

Welcome, 2026. I’m not entering this year with a long list of resolutions or a sense of urgency to become something different. Instead, I’m choosing a softer beginning — one rooted in intention rather than expectation. This year, I want to live more from my heart. I want to breathe in calm and release what I cannot control. I want to smile more and worry less. I want to listen more closely — to my body, my intuition, and the quiet wisdom that shows up when I slow down. I don’

As this year comes to a close, I find myself standing in a place of reflection — much like this bridge in St. Jean Pied de Port, France. A bridge is a pause point. A place to look back at where we’ve been, and ahead to what’s waiting. A moment to breathe before stepping forward. I feel grateful for this past year — for the steps taken, the lessons learned, and the moments that asked me to slow down and listen more closely. Some days were light and expansive. Others were heavy

Today I did something that felt both small and brave. I created a Facebook page, Mary Baldree Creative Journey. I shared short videos from my walks. I talked about gratitude, fog, negative thoughts, and the quiet work of finding light. When I posted them, I noticed the familiar voice of self-judgment — how I looked, how I sounded, whether I was “enough.” And yet, I kept going. I let myself be seen anyway. This is me walking. Breathing. Thinking. Becoming. Not perfect — but pr

When I first looked back on 2025, my instinct was to label it as a difficult year. A year that felt heavy at times. A year where life seemed to ask more than I felt ready to give. But then I did something different. I slowed down. I looked again. I looked through my calendar, my photos, the quiet evidence of days lived. And there it was — goodness I hadn’t fully noticed while I was in it. Moments of creativity. Small beginnings. Gentle persistence. Proof that even in seasons

HAPPY THANKSGIVING This Thanksgiving, I’m reminded that gratitude has no borders.On the Camino, I photographed simple cards that said thank you in many languages. Different words — shared heart. Gratitude isn’t loud or complicated. It lives in the quiet gifts of ordinary days:a body that carries us forward,people who love us,a home that holds us,and small moments of beauty that soften our hearts. Today, I pause.I breathe it in.And I whisper the words, no matter the language

A Book Review and Reflection I wasn’t near a bookstore or a library when I found myself craving something to read, but I had heard of The Correspondent by Virginia Evans. So I downloaded it on my Kindle (I mean really, what a time to be alive...having such easy quick access to books! Although I do miss bookstores, the delicious smell of new books, the feel of a book in my hands the pondering of what to read next...),— but I am so grateful to have downloaded this book! It’s a

Intentions are such beautiful things—well-meaning, heartfelt, and often lit like candles in the quiet corners of our minds. But I’ve learned that good intentions alone aren’t enough. They ask something more of us: attention, discipline, and follow-through. I often set intentions for my health—working out daily, walking every day—because I know how good those things are for my body and mind. Yet, I’ve realized that I can’t just intend to do them; I have to schedule them. I t

Never stop! 🩵 pilgrimage🩵 I suppose I am part of a fiery lot! A Book Review and Reflection At the end of my Camino, in the winding streets of Santiago de Compostela, I wandered into a small gift shop — the kind filled with postcards, rosaries, and memorabilia that entice tourists and pilgrims alike. On a shelf near the counter sat a book with a simple cover that caught my eye: The Accidental Pilgrim by Maggi Dawn. It was in English (a sweet blessing as I was in Spain!) an

Learning to Love Myself on the Camino There’s a painted rock along the Camino with a heart and these words: “Of all the amazing things...

Reflections from a Room Full of Beds This is what a pilgrim’s home looks like. A simple room with rows of bunk beds. Backpacks. And...

This. This is your reminder — not from the world, not from a to-do list, but from a quiet moment on the path. On the Camino, I came...

Reflections from Caminos past Today, I’m sitting with a simple question: What can I learn today? It’s a question that has met me often...

Thoughts on What We Choose to Carry This is Rita. She’s 25 liters of streamlined simplicity. She’s nearly 2 pounds lighter than Gus, my...

There was a moment on the Camino that I’ll never forget. I had been walking for hours under the heat of the Spanish sun. My body was...

Walking Through the Storm Faith doesn’t remove the storm. It doesn’t promise a clear sky, or easy footing, or a calm heart every step of...

Grace lives in the pause —the breath between effort and surrender. In that sacred space, something shifts. We stop pushing. We soften....

Joy is not always loud. Sometimes it sneaks in quietly —in a breeze that brushes your face,in the still warmth of your morning coffee,or...

Even—maybe especially—in retirement, finding time for me isn’t as easy as I thought it would be. I do make time for myself in some ways....

I was born. I grew up. I got an education. I got married. I raised a family. I had a challenging, rewarding career. I helped care for my...