What did I learn today? Lessons on the Journey to Unconditional Self Love

  Rooted Series | A 4-week online immersion begins October 5 There’s a quiet revolution unfolding—and it begins with you. I created Rooted for the woman who’s ready to stop shrinking. For the one who’s tired of betraying herself to belong. For the one who knows that joy is not frivolous—it’s revolutionary. This 4-week online immersion is a homecoming to your truth, your boundaries, your joy. Each week, we’ll explore a theme that invites you to return to yourself with grace and clarity:  Week 1: Rooted in Self-Awareness  Week 2: Rooted in Courage & Joy Week 3: Rooted in Boundaries  Week 4: Rooted in Belonging  We begin October 5. Registration opens soon. For now, save the date—and begin listening for the yes inside you. Peace and Blessings Akosua Dardaine Save Your Spot

In the presence of eternity, the mountains are as transient as the clouds . Robert Green Ingersoll Sunday mornings have taken on a new rhythm. A new challenge. I lace up my shoes, press play on my soca playlist, and head out into what we lovingly call “the bush.” Trees stretch tall like elders, rivers hum low like secrets, and the bike trails twist and turn like stories waiting to be told. It’s absolutely lovely. And it’s mine. I stopped running just before Covid. A shoulder injury slowed me down, and then the world did too. But now, I’m back. And soca—sweet, pulsing, unapologetic soca—has become the soundtrack to my return. Without it, I feel lost. Slow. Like I’ve forgotten the beat of my own body. But this morning was different. As I ran deeper into the bush, off the road and into the quiet, I felt a tug. Not in my shoulder, but in my spirit. A gentle nudge to take the music off. To be present. . To run without distraction. To run with myself. And so I did. The run continued, but som...

I am seen. I am significant. I do not need to perform to belong.  Last Sunday, I found myself triggered. I was at a workshop, and something in the room made me feel... unseen. Ignored. My instinct was to do something—to retreat, to isolate, or to make myself visible in ways that didn’t feel aligned. But instead, I did something radical. I paused. I took a sacred pause. In that stillness, I asked myself: Why am I feeling this way? What surfaced was fear—fear of being seen as unimportant by this group. My negative ego had slipped into the driver’s seat, whispering stories rooted in scarcity and self-doubt. But was that story true? No. I realized I didn’t need validation from anyone in that setting. My worth wasn’t up for negotiation. I let it go. And I was proud of myself. This was one of the first times I chose the pause over the performance. I didn’t act out. I didn’t shrink or shout. I simply sat with the discomfort and looked at the bigger picture.   Why the Sacred Pause Mat...

   “ Let’s keep reminding each other: our stories survive because we continue to tell them. Period.” Ava DuVernay  Reading that Ava quote, It felt like a whisper from my grandmother’s kitchen.. Not because it was new, but because it was familiar. It reminded me of something I had always known but had, somewhere along the way, tucked into the back pocket of life’s busyness: I am a storyteller. I come from storytellers. And stories are how we survive. I grew up in the presence of voices that painted worlds. Women who could turn a simple pot of soup into a parable. Elders who didn’t just recount events—they passed on wisdom, encoded in laughter, caution, and grace. I learned how to listen before I learned how to speak. And when I finally spoke, I realized I was echoing generations. But life, as it does, got loud. Got fast. Got practical. And somewhere in the shuffle of building programs, shaping policy, and navigating transitions, I forgot that storytelling wasn’t just a to...

Part of courage is simple consistency - Peggy Noonan   I started going to a boxing class. Five days a week. It’s intense. The kind of intense that makes you question your life choices mid-combination. I struggle—let’s be clear. Compared to the other participants, I’m often behind. My feet don’t always follow the rhythm, and the fitness tests? Let’s just say they test more than my fitness. But I show up. Every day, I hear my name echoing through the gym. “More power on those bags, Akosua!” “More speed, Akosua!” “Akosua, Akosua!” Sometimes I smile in annoyance, thinking, Can’t he see I’m flat out and ready to faint? But I keep punching. I keep moving. I keep showing up. Last week, after a group session, the trainer said, “I want to give a prize for the most consistent boxer here. Rain or shine, I know this person will show up. Y’all be like Akosua.” Me? I was shocked. Pleasantly surprised. A little embarrassed. I didn’t win for speed or strength or technique. I won for consistency. O...

  "Your whole life is a manifestation of the thoughts that go on in your head." - Lisa Nichols  Rev Deborah L Johnson , one of my favorite spiritual teachers, says  that one of our most sacred responsibilities is to mind our mind—to be consciously aware of our thoughts and how we choose to direct that energy. It’s a call to presence, to stewardship of the unseen currents that shape our lives. Because whether we notice it or not, our thoughts are always making an imprint. They ripple outward, forming the architecture of our reality. How many times do we realize that the thoughts we place the most energy on, manifests itself into reality - whether we want it or not?  So why do we not pay attention? Why do we allow our thoughts to run unchecked, as if they were background noise rather than the blueprint of our becoming? I believe in the energy. I believe that what we think and say is where we are living. Our thoughts are not passive—they are generative. They are the qu...