Self-growth is sold as hustle and constant improvement- But what if trying to be better starts to feel exhausting? This note is about learning that growth doesn't have to cost your peace. Self-growth isn't a race and is why becoming Slowly is still progress.

This is my introduction to my blog page. This is where I came from, and how I got to where I am now.

How it all began. I think I was 4 years old at this time when it started. This is my story and this is a look into my very first memories of what my childhood was.

Sacred Stories Yoga pathworking meditation exploring shadow work through Hindu mythology. The Asuras aren't demons—they're the parts we've labeled "not spiritual enough." The ambition we call service. The control we name guidance. The shadows wearing yoga clothes, speaking in our teacher voice. This isn't about healing or integrating your shadow. It's about stopping the spiritual performance long enough to admit what's actually there. A guided journey to the well where your shadows live—not to transform them, but to see them honestly. Includes brutally specific integration questions that make spiritual bypassing impossible. Real, messy, culturally humble. Free because sacred work shouldn't have a paywall. For people ready to get uncomfortable.

As a female, have you ever been judged? whether it was an amount of money, looks, or experiences. you're not alone!

What started as a typical fun day out ended with what felt like the climax of a thriller/horror movie. Sometimes the things we fear or dread the most are right under our noses and we ignore them due to the rational mind even though the twist in your stomach, intuition, and the little voices in our heads tell us differently. As humans, we all have a innate sense when something is wrong or off. It's when we choose not to listen to the one time where the head and the heart agree that things go awry. Sometimes, it's too late to avoid it and things take a wrong left turn for the worst.

Maybe you've noticed the pattern by now. Different relationship, same wound. Different job, same dynamic. You swore this time would be different—you did the therapy, set the boundaries, learned the lesson. And yet, here you are again. In Hindu philosophy, there's samsara—the wheel of existence. The eternal return. But here's what I'm learning: sometimes what looks like going in circles is actually moving in spirals. We're not back where we started. We're encountering the same lesson at a deeper level, with more wisdom, more capacity than before. This pathworking takes you to the Spiral Grove, where the trees themselves grow in spirals and the path helps you see: Are you stuck in a circle, or rising in a spiral? What question sits at the center of your pattern? And are you ready to finally stop circling and sit with it? Includes guided journey, integration prompts, and the permission to take another lap if you need to.

I followed IShowSpeed to Africa—especially Kenya—and how watching those unfiltered streams shattered global stereotypes while quietly healing my own relationship with Africa and myself. Through chaos, laughter, and real human connection, the streams revealed an Africa that is present, vibrant, and unapologetically alive—forcing a mindset shift not through explanation, but through visibility.

I was nine years old when my childhood was taken from me. I was hurt by someone I trusted in my community. I did not understand what had happened, only that I was afraid and in pain. When I tried to speak, nothing was done. The adults stayed silent. The person who hurt me faced no consequences. I learned early that my pain was easier to ignore than confront. I grew up carrying the trauma alone. I looked normal on the outside, but inside I was stuck at nine. Fear, shame, and silence followed me into my teenage years and adulthood. Time did not heal it. Silence nearly destroyed me. This is my story. I survived. I broke the silence. And my voice belongs to me.

A bad client doesn't just pay you less; they cost you double in "emotional tax." Most founders are scared to fire them. The Red Velvet Rope Protocol is a qualifying system that filters out " headache clients" before they sign the contract. We use the "P.I.T.A. Score" (Pain In The...) to rate prospects. Here is the formula...

Audio producer herself, Elara is here to share a story about having inner strength as opposed to jealousy. Enjoy.

Why do you keep hitting the same wall? Why won't that project launch, that door open, that thing you keep saying you'll start actually... start? This guided pathworking takes you into the Obstacle Garden with Ganesha—the elephant-headed Hindu deity who removes obstacles. And places them. Because sometimes the obstacle isn't the problem. Sometimes it's the teacher. Sometimes it's protection. Sometimes you built it yourself. Walk through a mythological garden where your obstacles become visible. The wall blocking one path. The hedge you built that became prison. The locked gate that saved you. The empty space where nothing stops you except you. Ganesha shows you which obstacles to push through, walk around, sit with, or drop. Because the real obstacle isn't the circumstances—it's the version of yourself too small for what you're becoming. For anyone stuck. Researching instead of doing. Waiting for perfect timing. The obstacles aren't punishment. They're preparation.

Religion has always been a double-edged sword. It can be weaponized to dominate, to segregate, to justify violence and oppression. But it can also be the soil from which love and justice spring. Too often, denominationalism—rigid, exclusive, sometimes arrogant—has aligned itself with systems that breed hierarchy and maintain the status quo. The alternative, non denominationalism, often seeks to erase difference in the name of unity, but in doing so, it can also erase the beauty, the struggle, and the lived realities of diverse communities.

There is a dance between thoughts, words, and reality. Sometimes I think first, then speak, and my words ripple out to shape what happens. Other times, reality smashes into me, forcing words into my mouth and thoughts into my head. This flow is not linear. It is a cycle, a feedback loop. In defining God, we must acknowledge this. When people say, “God is love,” they are not just describing; they are commanding, invoking, creating a reality in which love is divine. When people say, “God is wrath,” they are shaping a world where oppression is justified.

What does it mean to have an unwanted guest in someone's life and all they want to do is get rid of them but can't? The invisible chaos, the stranger I never asked to join, and the one who stays throughout this lifetime. It is my greatest enemy but also my greatest teacher as it's taught me that true healing begins when I decide it's time to stop pretending everything is fine. Speaking in truth will never be done in silence, as it takes several pushes and shoves to finally fight back and take back control. This unwanted stranger isn't easy to kick out as it stays in the back of my mind constantly. I don't need an angel to blind this creature, I am becoming the angel in the dead of night who shines its glorious light against this darkness.

I've been standing at this door for weeks. Not a literal door—though there's a closet I haven't opened because I shoved all my unfinished projects in there. But those life thresholds where you have to decide: Do I let this in? Do I keep this out? In Hindu tradition, dvara means door or threshold. Dvarapalas are door guardians who ask: Who gets through? What stays out? Ganesha doesn't remove every obstacle—some are protection. Durga guards fiercely. Hanuman says no even to gods when devotion requires it. This pathworking walks you to your threshold to meet your keeper and make a conscious choice about your door. Not to get it right. Just to choose with your eyes open. [Continue reading the full meditation and journal prompts...]

I've been putting off writing this one. Because who wants to meditate on decay? Who wants to spend time with the goddess whose entire job is presiding over dead things? But here's what keeps nagging at me about Nirṛti (near-REE-tee, and I'm probably butchering that): she's essential. Without her, nothing new could grow. Without decay, no transformation. My youngest is convinced our backyard compost heap is magic because we throw in garbage and somehow get soil. He's not wrong. So maybe you're in that season where nothing is growing. Or maybe something actually died—a relationship, a dream, a version of yourself you were sure you'd become. And everyone's telling you to "let go" and "move forward" as if grief has an expiration date. This pathworking walks you to the corner of the garden nobody wants to visit—where things break down, where ruins become soil, where failure becomes wealth. Fair warning: the goddess of decay doesn't do light and fluffy. But I'll be here with you.

In my experience, glossing over the truth out of fear of confrontation does little to help someone who is spiraling downward. I have seen firsthand how silence or enabling behavior only allows harm to continue unchecked. This is echoed in many religious and philosophical teachings. The Christian Bible, for instance, urges, “Speak the truth in love” (Ephesians 4:15), emphasizing that honesty should be delivered with compassion and not with harshness. Similarly, the Jewish tradition values “tochacha,” or loving rebuke, as an obligation to help others turn away from harmful paths, but always in a manner that preserves their dignity.

Living with the intention to produce positivity is not just a spiritual idea; it has real, everyday benefits. I have seen in my own life, and in my community, that when we focus on spreading good—through acts of kindness, forgiveness, generosity, or just a smile—we change the energy around us. The world is full of negativity, and as a Black man, I know the weight of stereotypes, systemic injustice, and daily microaggressions. Yet, when I choose to respond with positivity, I reclaim my power. This is not about ignoring the real pain or injustice we face, but about refusing to let it define us. The teachings of many traditions support this.

This was originally written for a contest. The prompt was that it had to start with the line "something was moving in the dark".