The Ask: A Reflection from My Desk Sanctuary

There’s a small space on my desk that brings me comfort. It started as a way to make the everyday feel a little more intentional—a small collection of meaningful items that remind me to breathe, to be present, to soften.

One of the most recent pieces I added was a boldly colored bowl. Inside it sits a quartz crystal—clear, grounding, and full of quiet wisdom. Resting beside it are two silver dimes. I had nearly forgotten their origin, until this morning.

The dimes were a sign. A little over a year ago—long before Morning Joy had a name—I asked the Universe for something. I don’t remember what it was now, but I remember how the dimes showed up soon after. It felt like a direct response, an answered prayer.

And even though the original question has faded from memory, the dimes have remained. They’ve become more than an answer; they’re a gentle reminder. That I asked. That I trusted. That I received.

This morning, I added a bracelet to the space. It’s mostly made of white beads, with a small section of colorful stones representing the chakras. I rarely wear it—it’s not especially comfortable—but today, it called to me in a new way. I placed it gently beside the bowl.

It now serves as a symbol of my intention: alignment.

Each object in this little corner holds quiet meaning. They’ve come together over time, like breadcrumbs from my soul. And as I sit at my desk, surrounded by to-do lists and everyday tasks, this space reminds me that something deeper is always at play.

That beauty matters. That asking matters. And that sometimes, the smallest things—a dime, a bracelet, a flicker of memory—can bring us back to what we’ve known all along.