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

  "We have become disconnected from our bodies, our feelings and our inner wisdom, and the way back to ourselves is through embodiment rather than more thinking."  – Master Mingtong Wu There were moments while reading Master Mingtong Wu's book when literal tears filled my eyes. The simplicity of it all, the way it read me and my current actions, the profoundity of it all. One description shared by people who had worked with the Master stayed with me. They spoke about treating their bodies like rental cars. Something to use, push, criticize, neglect and return without much thought. I thought about all the ways I have treated my own body over the years. Eating poorly. Ignoring rest. Pushing through exhaustion. Speaking unkindly about it. Wanting it to be different. Constantly focusing on what it lacked instead of appreciating all that it has faithfully carried. And then a sobering realization arrived. This body is the only one I have. The only one. The only body that will c...

 How do we know when life is balanced? I do not think balance is found in perfectly level scales. In fact, I am not sure I want perfectly level scales. Because life is not lived that way. There are seasons when work demands more. Seasons when grief asks more of us. Seasons when our healing becomes our full-time commitment. Seasons when joy takes up all the room. The scales tip. And perhaps they are supposed to. The question is not whether they tip. The question is whether they are tipping toward what matters. Balance, for me, is not perfection. It is awareness. It is knowing where my energy is going and deciding whether that investment aligns with the life I want to build. Balance is flexibility. Balance is rest without earning it first. Balance is knowing when to give a wholehearted yes and when to offer a firm no. Balance is boundaries. Balance is discipline. Balance is understanding that not everything deserves equal access to me. Some things must be held closely. Some things mu...

  How do we know when a season is full and when a season is empty? Do we need evidence? Do we need applause, validation, or some visible sign that things are moving in the right direction? Or do we simply need to remember that we are part of nature, and that some of the most powerful growth, development, and beauty happen in silence. The womb grows life without an audience. The sun rises without seeking approval. The moon changes shape without asking to be understood. Nature does not rush to prove itself. It simply becomes. Perhaps that is where trust comes in. Trust is not certainty about the outcome. It is not having all the answers or knowing exactly when the breakthrough will arrive. Trust is the willingness to remain receptive without forcing the process into a familiar shape. It is choosing to stay open when there is no visible evidence that anything is changing. I have been wrestling with this lately. Am I in a season of growth? And if I am, why is it taking so long? So much...

  A few years ago, I started consciously building a Life Tool Kit. Not the kind that sits in a garage or under a sink. A real-life tool kit. A collection of things I use daily to navigate this experience we call life. One of the biggest lessons I have learned is that life is not personal. I learned that the hard way. For a long time, I believed that if I did the right things, everything would run smoothly. Be kind. Work hard. Tell the truth. Treat people well. Surely that would guarantee a life free from too much pain, rejection, loss, betrayal, or disappointment. Turns out, that is not how life works. Growing up, I honestly thought those difficult experiences were reserved for people who had somehow done the "wrong" things. Then life happened. And life became the teacher. I learned that heartbreak does not ask for permission. Loss does not check whether you have been good. Rejection does not measure your worth before it arrives. Disappointment does not discriminate. These ex...

  It's been a while since I've sat down to write. The last  week, I was under the weather with a cold and the inevitable runny nose that always seems to accompany it. What I've noticed about myself over the years is that when I get sick, I don't just deal with the physical symptoms. I also get angry with myself. It's an odd reaction when I think about it. Recently, I came across something actress Sanaa Lathan shared about feelings.  Feeling them. Fighting them. Fixing them. Numbing them. Analyzing them. Sitting with them. And maybe, eventually, letting them go. As I reflected on my own response to getting sick, I realized I tend to get stuck at the analysis stage. Perhaps even over-analysis. I start asking myself questions. What did I do wrong? Was I not getting enough rest?  Didn't I drink enough water? Wasn't I doing all the right things? There is a frustration that comes from feeling as though you're checking all the boxes and yet still finding yourse...

  On Saturday I ran a 5k race. Not my first 5k , but the first time I ever ran one in the full blaze of the afternoon sun. Over 30 degrees. No breeze. No mercy. I usually run early, before the sun wakes up, when the world is still cool and quiet. So when I heard this race was happening during the day, I resisted. For a whole week I told myself, and anyone who asked, “That sun? Not me, papa. I will miss out on this one But something in me shifted. I wanted to do something small that reminded me: I can still do hard things.   Not dramatic things. Not life‑changing things. Just something that nudges me outside the comfort zone and says, “You’re still here. You’re still capable.” So I signed up. And just as I expected, the day was scorching. The kind of heat that makes you question your life choices. When I arrived, everyone else seemed pumped up, excited, ready. I kept looking around thinking, “Are they not feeling this sun? Is it only me?” The race started. I set one intent...