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

  Affirmation:  I walk through this life with an inner power that cannot be taken, traded, or diminished. Life, for all its twists and turns, is a journey. Yes, it sounds cliché. But clichés only become clichés because they hold a truth we keep circling back to. From the moment we arrive on this earth until the moment we leave it, we are moving—becoming—unfolding. And somewhere along the way, we get tricked into believing that the journey is about accumulating power or accumulating things. But is it? I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately: how easily we confuse power with dominance, or success with the size of our possessions. How often we sabotage ourselves and others in the name of “getting ahead,” without ever asking where exactly we’re heading. Growing up, my grandmother had her own way of cutting through the noise. Every evening at 7 p.m., the entire house had to go silent because the news was on. She would sit there, eyes fixed on the screen, talking back to the tele...

“No external gaze, achievement, perception, or success can replace the way we look at and hold ourselves in our quietest, most private moments.” Lisa Olivera  I know this. I’ve known it for years. And yet, somewhere in the background of my mind, there’s still that soft, persistent whisper: Am I doing this life thing right? Am I doing it well enough to be seen? Am I hiding too much? Am I dimming the light I was born with? It’s not loud. It’s not desperate. It’s just… there. A residue of old conditioning, old expectations, old ways of measuring worth. Over the past couple of years, I’ve been digging into my “why” — not the polished version you put on a CV or a proposal, but the one that lives in the quiet. The one that doesn’t need applause. The one that doesn’t need to be marketed or posted or packaged. And in that digging, I’ve had to face a truth that used to make me feel guilty: I like being home. I like stillness. I like doing my work — the work I know I was assigned — without ...

 Affirmation: Nothing outside of me defines my power. There comes a moment — sometimes sudden, sometimes slow like dawn — when you realise that all the things you’ve been collecting, achieving, perfecting, don’t actually give you the power you thought they would. The titles, the applause, the curated image of “having it all together”… they peak, they shimmer, and then they fall away. And what’s left is you. The Self. The one you can’t outrun or decorate or silence forever. That’s when the real journey begins. Going within isn’t dramatic. It’s subtle. It’s in the tiny conversations you have with yourself throughout the day — the ones no one else hears. The moment you catch a familiar spiral and choose a different word. The moment you offer yourself a compliment instead of a criticism. The moment you pause long enough to witness your own truth without flinching. These small choices are the practice. And the practice is what makes it easier. Because deep down, you always know what’s h...

There is a moment—usually small, usually private—when you realise you’ve been playing games with yourself. You say you want something, you talk about it, you circle it, you imagine the version of you who has it… but you haven’t actually decided. That was my biggest lesson. For a long time, I confused interest with commitment. Interest feels warm, inspiring, even exciting. It gives you the illusion of movement without requiring any real shift. Commitment, on the other hand, is not glamorous. It is not loud. It is a quiet, internal contract that says: I will do what it takes. And that difference changes everything. Interest Makes Excuses. Commitment Makes Adjustments. When you’re merely interested in something, you negotiate with yourself. You bargain. You postpone. You say “tomorrow” with a confidence that tomorrow will somehow be different. But when you are committed, you adjust your life around the thing you say you want. You wake up early. You honour the practice. You show up even wh...

  Affirmation : I release the illusions that once defined me. I honor my inner truth with courage and clarity. I choose myself without apology, and I transform from the inside out—deliberately, gently, powerfully. There comes a moment—quiet, almost imperceptible—when you realize that the life you’ve been carrying is heavier than the life you’re meant to live. A moment when the illusions fall away: the illusion that you must save everyone, the illusion that your worth is tied to responsibility that was never yours, the illusion that self-denial is noble. Today, and every day moving forward, is about choosing differently. It’s about choosing diligence over distraction. Presence over performance for likes and validation. Inner truth over outer approval. Transformation is not loud. It is not a spectacle. It is a series of small, sacred choices that no one sees. The prayer whispered before dawn. The fast that clears the fog. The breath that interrupts an old pattern. The decision t...

  Affirmation:  I meet myself honestly, and I meet others with discernment. I wondered today… do people really know me? And more importantly, do they even know what they’re asking when they ask, “How are you?” I paid attention to my responses to the first three people who asked me that question this morning—three people who, in different ways, are “about me.” My answers were one‑word offerings: fine, good, grateful, fabulous… and then I kept it moving. Because for me, that’s the required answer. That’s the social contract. That’s the script. But are they really asking how I am? Or are we all just participating in a ritual of politeness? And yet—here’s the flip side—it might actually be a valid question. They may genuinely want to know. They may be opening a door. This is where discernment comes in. This is where you pause, go inward, and check: • How am I really feeling? • Am I safe enough to share? • Am I willing to reveal my true Self in this moment? These last few day...

Affirmation: I release comparison, doubt, and the need for proof. There is a way of living that I am choosing — not someday, not when everything lines up, not when the world decides to clap for me — but now. Today. A way of living rooted in what I believe is possible, not just what I can see in front of me. Because the truth is, I forget. I forget that I am someone who has walked through the “cannot,” the “will not,” the “not yet,” and still found a way. That this is my DNA As a descendant of those who came through the Door of No Return, and returned. As a Merikin descendant, as the grand daughter of Sheila Gomez Sandy who all found a way. It is undeniable.  I forget that hope is not naïve — it is strategy. I forget that faith is not a feeling — it is a tool. And when I forget, I get pulled into that old trap: waiting for proof, waiting for validation, waiting to be chosen. Scrolling and comparing until my spirit starts whispering, “Why not me? Why isn’t it happening yet?”  It...

  Affirmation:  I am ready, willing, and worthy of every yes—and strong enough for every no.  I release the fear of rejection and welcome the freedom that comes with asking. March is calling me forward. Calling for calculated risks, for less shrinking and more growing, for fewer excuses and more learning from doing, for less trying and more doing. It feels like a month that wants movement—inner and outer. A month that wants me to stretch. People often tell me I’m brave. They see me traveling the world solo, hiking alone, wandering into new places , with my curiosity, and my sense of direction that is sometimes spiritual more than geographical. They see courage in that. But that kind of courage has always come easily to me. I grew up as an only child with an imaginary friend, so solitude never felt like a threat. It felt like home. Adventure felt like a companion. Being on my own felt like a natural state of being. Where courage becomes complicated is in the places where I...

Self‑honesty is not for punks. It is a spiritual discipline, a muscle, a mirror, and a medicine. It is also one of the most essential qualities for living an authentic life. Iyanla Vanzant calls self‑honesty “the sacred courage to witness and tell the truth to oneself without distortion, denial, or shame.” That line has been sitting with me. Because the truth is: I have had many moments where I wanted something to be other than what it was. My friend has a saying: “If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, as much as you want it to be a swan… it is a duck.” And whew, have I tried to convince myself otherwise. I have projected my hopes, my fears, my insecurities, my longing onto situations because I wasn’t ready to be honest with myself. And when I do that, I cannot make decisions that honour me, support me, or enrich my life. Distortion is expensive. Self‑honesty requires compassion, clarity, and courage. Compassion to hold myself gently. Clarity to see what is actually in front ...

One of the most revealing lessons I’ve learned — across intimate relationships, friendships, and even work — is this: you cannot love someone into wanting to grow, change, or show up in the ways you hope they will. Believe me, I tried. I made it a mission, a calling almost. If I just loved harder, showed up more, held space longer, maybe they would meet me where I stood. Maybe they would rise. Maybe they would choose themselves. Maybe they would choose us. But that path is a slow erosion. A quiet draining. A complete waste of time and energy in the end. And not because people are bad or unworthy. Often, they are carrying things you cannot see and cannot fix — emotional weight, mental battles, old wounds, patterns that predate you. Sometimes it’s emotional immaturity. Sometimes it’s fear. Sometimes it’s simply a lack of willingness or readiness. And sometimes, the lesson is yours: letting go, surrender, boundaries, and the release of guilt. What I’ve come to understand is this: When yo...

  One of the best pieces of advice I ever received was this: “Even when a situation feels out of your control, it doesn’t mean that it is out of control.” For a long time, I didn’t understand that. I equated me being in control with me being safe. Control became my shield, my strategy, my habit. And like all habits—especially the ones that feel familiar—it became comfortable, even when it wasn’t serving me. What I’ve learned is that control is often an illusion. The real challenge isn’t the situation itself; it’s the moment when I am safe but my mind insists that I’m not. That’s when I make decisions that don’t serve me or anyone else. That’s when I react instead of respond. That’s when I try to win, prove, shrink, judge, or force an outcome. So I’ve been learning to find the balance. Lately, I’ve started asking myself a simple set of questions: • Am I safe? • Am I present? • Am I making this decision from the moment I’m in—or from fear, ego, habit, or old stories? With pract...

  Affirmation: I choose with clarity. I act with intention. I remember my connection to all things.  Each moment invites me to align my inner world with the world I am helping to create. I’ve been sitting with a question that refuses to stay on the surface: How are we to live today, knowing that we shape the world even as it shapes us? Hiro Boga speaks of us as fractals of the Sacred — whole, interconnected, co‑creators with the Great Mystery. That framing pulls me inward. It reminds me that the world isn’t something “out there” happening to us. It’s something we participate in, moment by moment, through the choices we make and the intentions we carry. These aren’t questions the intellect can answer on its own. They ask for something deeper — a focus on the inner world, a steadying of the heart, a willingness to bring our whole selves to the everyday moments where our lives are actually shaped. They ask us to tend to the habits and routines that scaffold our soul’s purpose, s...

Affirmation: I have what it takes to do hard things, and I move through this world as a child of the Most High — guided, held, and equipped. This morning’s meditation brought a truth back to the surface — one I’ve known, forgotten, and rediscovered many times. It whispered: When we forget ourselves, when we don’t know who we are, our choices reflect that. When we remember that we are Divine, our choices reflect that too. It landed differently today. Maybe because I’ve seen what forgetting looks like. The shrinking. The doubt. The choices made from fear instead of fullness. But remembering — that’s a whole other life. Being Divine isn’t about perfection. It’s knowing I already have what it takes to do hard things. It’s knowing courage lives in me. It’s remembering I am a child of the Most High, created with intention, equipped with strength, and held by grace. When I live from that place, everything shifts. My mistakes don’t define me. My reactions soften. My choices expand. My response...

Affirmation I honour my feelings, trust my boundaries, and welcome every experience as guidance. I release what no longer serves me and make space for love, clarity, and growth. I am becoming more grounded, more courageous, and more myself every day. Today at the market, I got a reminder I didn’t ask for and definitely didn’t want. A random vendor called me over and asked about someone I severed ties with almost three years ago. He shared updates, good news, casual conversation—but inside, I felt myself tighten. Annoyance washed over me so quickly it made me physically ill. And then came the self‑judgment: Why am I reacting like this? Why does this still bother me? By the time I got back to the car, I was spiraling. I did something I haven’t done in ages—I went on social media to “check up.” That was a mistake. It always is. But even in the middle of that spiral, something in me paused. I took a breath. I reached for the toolkit I’ve been building: breathe, watch your self‑talk, rememb...

  Affirmation : “Enoughness lives in me, and I rise from it daily.” I really thought I had this “enoughness” thing figured out. I believed I had done the work — the deep, uncomfortable, liberating work — to recognize my own innate worth. The kind of worth that doesn’t wobble when someone questions you, or when life throws its curveballs, or when the world tries to convince you that you need to be more, do more, shrink more, fix more. I thought I had reached the place where no one could tell me I wasn’t enough — not even me. But life, in its fierce and tender love, has a way of circling back with reminders. It whispers. Then it nudges. Then it taps you on the shoulder. And if you still don’t pay attention, it raises its voice. Not to punish, but to guide. Life will do whatever it takes to get our attention. The question is whether we’re willing to listen. Recently, I realized I had slipped — quietly, subtly — back into old patterns of “not enoughness.” It didn’t happen in one dramat...

 Affirmation:  I embrace my journey with honesty and strength, knowing that transformation begins with a single brave choice.  There’s a certain kind of person who stirs something deep in me — not because their life was smooth, but because it wasn’t. I’m most inspired by the ones who turned their lives around, who listened to that invisible tug inside whispering, “There’s more for you.” The ones who took their pain, their rejection, their early losses, and shaped something beautiful out of it. That kind of courage is what I’m learning to embody. And somehow, Telescope brought all of that into sharp focus for me. Walking through the community, listening to stories, watching the youth step into leadership, I kept feeling this quiet truth: transformation is not abstract here. It’s lived. It’s practiced. It’s earned. This part of Telescope is a place where people have had every reason to give up, yet they choose to rise — again and again. Then I met Mr. Mikey. A man who once ...

  In its quest for success,Nothing stands in man′s way.Old rivers run dry, soon the birds wouldn't fly.  The mountains will be no longer high.And when I really think of it.I does wonder why, oh why - King Austin  This past month, I’ve been moving through the remote corners of a few Caribbean islands — the places where the road narrows, the signal drops, and life returns to its original pace. Every day has felt like a soft reminder of what abundance actually looks like. Mangoes falling freely. Rivers running clear. Beaches that aren’t curated or branded, just lived with. Trees that feed, shade, heal, and hold stories. People here still use the land as part of their lifestyle — not as an aesthetic, not as a weekend escape, but as a way to eat, to heal, to live. And it has been such a joy to witness. But alongside that joy, I’ve been noticing something else: a quiet, persistent rush to “modernize.” A desire to trade natural remedies for packaged pills, fresh fruit for impo...

  The currents of life will not be halted by our impatience There’s a line I came across once — I can’t remember where — but it has stayed with me l: the currents of life will not be halted by our impatience. Everything, from the simplest seed to the most extraordinary transformation, follows a process. Even the things that look quick, effortless, or “overnight” have a hidden architecture beneath them. Something was forming, stretching, aligning long before we ever saw the result. Yet impatience convinces us otherwise. It crowds out sane judgment. It stirs anxiety. It throws us into a panic — sometimes quietly, sometimes dramatically — but always with the same effect: we lose our center. The truth is, developing patience is a skill. A discipline. A practice. And like all practices, it asks something of us. Patience is not just waiting. It’s how you wait. It’s what you do in the meantime. It’s the posture of your spirit while the thing you desire is still becoming. To wait well requ...

  “I am imagining you learning to love bigger, learning to let life in a little more, learning to stay with what you’ve long run from, learning to lean deeper into aliveness and slowly trusting you can be with the aching gold found only there.” — Lisa Olivera I read that line this morning and felt it settle somewhere deep. Maybe because it mirrors so much of what life has been whispering lately. A few days ago, I was chatting with a good sistren of mine. She just moved to a new city for a new job, and we were talking about the different ways people meet others, build community, and open themselves up to connection. She admitted how terrified she is of meeting new people, of being more friendly, of stretching beyond the familiar edges of her independence. I laughed — not at her fear, but at the recognition. There’s a reason we became such good friends. We are both either terrified or simply accustomed to our own rhythms: being independent, spending more time alone than with others, ...

Affirmation:   Every new day is mine to shape with grace, presence, and self‑trust . I came across a thought from Nedra Glover Tawwab that landed softly but firmly with me. She reminds us that while many people use the new year as a moment for self‑improvement, we don’t have to. We’re free to use this time however feels right. For some, January 1st is simply the next day on the calendar. For others, it’s a portal, a ceremony, a meaningful reset. And both are valid. Both are allowed. This perspective feels important. We get to choose what the new year means to us. There is no right way or wrong way, no best or worst approach. Just your way. For me, this time of year is a reset. A pause. A moment to look back at what I did and how I did it, to check in with where I am, and to gently imagine where I want to go. I ask myself how I want to feel moving forward. It’s a deeply spiritual and personal ritual—quiet, grounding, nourishing. But this reminder nudges me: my way is not everyo...

Affirmation: I release the stories that keep me small. I step out of the cages I built, and I surrender to the guidance of the Most High with courage, clarity, and an open heart.   This year, I’m beginning with a gentle but necessary truth: some of the cages we feel trapped in are the ones we built ourselves. Not out of weakness, but out of a longing for safety, for belonging, for something steady to hold on to. And yet, there comes a moment when the walls we crafted for protection start to feel too tight for the person we’re becoming. January is my month of release. Of loosening my grip on old stories. Of honoring the past without dragging it into a future it was never meant to shape. Of remembering that courage is not loud—it is the quiet willingness to let go. I’m choosing to surrender the narratives that no longer serve me, the habits that keep me small, the comfort that costs too much. I’m choosing to trust the Most High’s guidance more than my fear, more than my need to contr...