Where do you go when you let go?

It was 5:30 PM. Work was done. A few hours before dinner. Time to breathe.

“I’m just going to explore a bit,” I told my friend.

But here’s the thing—I wasn’t home in a café. I was home, everywhere. This time, in Oaxaca, Mexico.

As I wandered, I kept passing this building—something about it pulled me in. So I did what every curious Sagittarius does… I followed the feeling.

Turns out, it was Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán.

A masterpiece of Oaxacan Baroque architecture, built in 1575 as part of a Dominican monastery. For centuries, monks walked its halls, their prayers carried through vaulted ceilings covered in gold. Later, soldiers occupied it during Mexico’s wars, repurposing its sacred walls for battle. But somehow, its spirit remained intact.

The ceilings are adorned with intricate carvings, telling stories of saints and legends. The chapel gleams with gold-leafed altars, and the air carries the weight of time—of devotion, power, resilience.

Maybe that’s what it is to be untethered. To exist in places that don’t belong to you, but somehow hold you anyway. To feel the pull of something bigger than routine, bigger than control.

That’s the beauty of this life. I don’t fill the quiet moments with distractions—I let them swallow me whole.

Where do you go when you let go?