Why Do Some People Grow Through Experiences and Others Do Not?

Two people face the same trial; one grows, the other grumbles. What makes the difference? Some people encounter pain and become wiser; others go through the same pain and become bitter. Some are changed by loss; others are crushed by it. What makes the difference?

It’s not the experience itself,  it’s the response to it.

Every day, life sends us teachers disguised as challenges: a failed project, a betrayal, an illness, a missed opportunity. But growth doesn’t come from what happens,  it comes from what we choose to learn. 

The key difference lies in awareness and attitude.

Those who grow ask: “What is this trying to teach me?”

Those who don’t ask: “Why is this happening to me?”

The first question opens the door to understanding; the second locks it with resentment.

Growth-minded people practice reflection.  They pause, think, and extract meaning. They own their role in every experience and use the pain as raw material for wisdom. Others rush through life, seeking comfort more than clarity. They replay events but never review them.

It’s also about mindset. Psychologists call it the growth mindset; the belief that abilities and character can be developed. People with a fixed mindset see experiences as verdicts: “I failed, therefore I’m not good enough.” Those with a growth mindset see them as lessons: “I failed, therefore I’ve discovered another way not to do it.”

Finally, growth requires gratitude, not for the pain itself, but for the perspective it brings. Gratitude transforms wounds into wisdom and experiences into elevation.

So, the next time life brings an unexpected twist, remember: it’s not what happens that defines you, but how you interpret and internalise it. Every experience is a classroom. The question is: are you paying attention?

THE PEOPLE WE OVERLOOK

 

Why do we often ignore the people who care about us most while chasing the approval of those who barely notice us? 

It’s one of life’s quiet misnomers that we sometimes fail to recognize the steady warmth of genuine affection because we are too busy seeking the flicker of distant admiration. We crave attention, not realizing that attention is not the same as love. The ones who care for us deeply often do so quietly. They check in, they wait, they forgive. They are not loud, and perhaps that is why we take them for granted. 

In our desire to be seen by the world, we sometimes stop seeing the ones who already see us clearly. We measure our worth by who claps for us, forgetting those who have stood by us even when there was no applause. We pursue approval from strangers while ignoring the comfort of those who know our flaws and still choose to stay. 

But time has a way of teaching us. Sooner or later, we discover that popularity is fragile, while loyalty is priceless. The people who truly care are not always the most exciting or glamorous, they are the ones who quietly choose us, again and again. 

Today, pause and look around. Who calls you just to ask if you’re okay? Who prays for you without your knowing? Who forgives you faster than you deserve? Those are the people who matter. Treasure them before it’s too late because when the noise fades, it’s their voices that will still call your name.

THE MYSTERY OF CHILD PRODIGIES: GENIUS, GENES OR GLIMPSES OF PAST LIVES?

 

They appear like sudden bursts of spiritual memory! Children who play Beethoven at five, solve calculus at six, or paint like masters long before they can tie their shoelaces. We call them child prodigies, rare souls whose brilliance defies logic and humbles even the most accomplished adults. But what truly explains their astonishing gifts? 

Science has tried. Genetics, psychologists say, can pass down extraordinary aptitudes. A gifted parent or an intellectually rich lineage may increase the odds. Add to that an enabling environment, early exposure to music, mathematics, or art; parents who nurture curiosity; access to quality education, and you have the perfect recipe for a prodigy. But even science concedes that sometimes, these explanations fall short.

Take Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, who composed symphonies at the age of five; or Pablo Picasso, whose first painting came at eight, already bearing traces of genius; or Akiane Kramarik, the American girl who began painting ethereal, otherworldly portraits at four, claiming her inspiration came from visions of heaven. Consider also Ruth Lawrence, who entered Oxford University at twelve to study mathematics, and William James Sidis, whose IQ reportedly exceeded Einstein’s and who entered Harvard at eleven. 

What drives such extraordinary acceleration of human capacity? Science may struggle to find a complete answer because these children seem to arrive not learning but remembering.

From a spiritual perspective, especially one that accepts reincarnation, the phenomenon of prodigies may be viewed as the continuity of experience across lifetimes. These children, it is said, are not learning something new but rediscovering what their souls once mastered. Their abilities, like deeply etched memories, survive the veil of birth and awaken early in a new incarnation.

This idea resonates with stories from across cultures and religions. In Eastern traditions, reincarnation is seen as the soul’s journey through multiple lives, each carrying impressions (samskaras) from the last. These impressions can manifest as instincts, fears, or in rare cases extraordinary talents. Even in Western thought, philosophers like Plato and poets like Wordsworth hinted that “our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting” and that something of our former selves lingers within us. 

Perhaps that’s why, when a child sits at a piano and plays with the emotional depth of an old master, we feel something more than admiration. We feel wonder as though witnessing the re-emergence of a timeless genius, momentarily freed from the amnesia of rebirth. 

Science and spirituality may forever debate this mystery, yet both perspectives lead us to the same awe: the human mind, or perhaps the human spirit is far more profound than we can fully explain. 

Maybe child prodigies aren’t just gifted, maybe they’re remembering.

SHOULD ANY ONE PERSON HAVE THE POWER OF MERCY? A Defence, a Critique, and a Blueprint for Reform

When a single human being holds the power to wipe away guilt, reduce punishment, or undo the finality of justice, something both magnificent and unsettling occurs. This moment, when law bows before mercy exposes the tension between the laws’s cold logic and humanity’s deep need for compassion. It is this tension that lies at the heart of the debate over the Prerogative of Mercy.

Across the world, most constitutional systems grant the head of state or government this extraordinary authority, the power to pardon, commute, or remit sentences. Though often exercised on the advice of a council or board, in practice the discretion is vast and deeply personal. This then raises a profound question: Should any one person truly have this power?

Essentially, the prerogative of mercy exposes a philosophical fault line. On one side stands the rule of law, demanding that justice be impartial, predictable, and rooted in established process. On the other side stands human compassion, which recognises that no legal system is perfect, that every system occasionally errs, grows too rigid, or fails to reflect the complexity of human lives. Mercy exists as a safety valve, a corrective for error, and a gesture of reconciliation. But when mercy appears arbitrary or politically motivated, it corrodes public confidence in justice itself.

The dilemma is therefore not merely legal; it is moral and political. Should societies continue with systems where mercy depends on the conscience or whims of a single leader, or should they evolve toward structures that institutionalise compassion while upholding transparency and accountability?

Those who defend the existing model point to its flexibility. In moments of urgency, when an innocent person suffers unjustly, or when humanitarian grounds demand swift relief, the ability to act decisively can save lives. Mercy, in this sense, adds a necessary human touch to an otherwise mechanical justice system, acknowledging repentance, ill health, or extraordinary circumstances. In deeply divided societies, well-timed acts of clemency can even aid national healing and reconciliation.

Yet there is a darker side. Concentrating such power in one person invites abuse. It risks favoritism, political manipulation, and the perception that justice is negotiable. When mercy is granted without transparency, it begins to look less like compassion and more like patronage. Moreover, victims and communities often have no voice in decisions that affect their sense of justice and closure. In a democracy, a single individual erasing judicial outcomes without explanation feels not merciful but monarchical.

The answer lies not in abolishing mercy but in reforming it. Mercy should not be personal; it should be institutional. What is needed is a transparent and participatory system of collective clemency guided by clear principles. Every nation can benefit from establishing an Independent Clemency Commission composed of retired judges, civil society representatives, victims’ advocates, and rehabilitation experts. This body would review applications, consult victims, and publish reasoned recommendations. The head of state may retain final approval but should be required to record and publish the reasons for any departure from the Commission’s advice.

Clear criteria should guide such processes: time served, evidence of rehabilitation, humanitarian grounds, or wrongful conviction. Victims or their families should have the right to contribute their perspectives, ensuring that mercy does not silence justice. For sensitive cases, particularly those involving public trust or official misconduct, parliamentary or judicial oversight could provide an added layer of accountability. Transparency is not an enemy of mercy; it is its only safeguard.

Equally vital is the distinction between pardon and exoneration. A pardon forgives guilt; exoneration declares that guilt was undeserved from the start. In societies seeking reconciliation, symbolic acts of acknowledgment and restorative justice may serve truth more deeply than belated gestures of forgiveness.

Would these reforms erase the aura of absolute authority that surrounds clemency? Not entirely. The power to forgive will always carry moral weight. But by embedding it within a transparent, principled institution, mercy ceases to be the privilege of rulers and becomes the right of a just society to temper law with humanity, without sacrificing fairness.

So, should any one person have the power of mercy? Perhaps not, at least not as a personal or unchecked prerogative. Nevertheless, every just society must retain the capacity to soften justice with grace. The moral task before us is to make mercy accountable; to transform it from a gesture of favour into a function of justice. When mercy ceases to be arbitrary and becomes principled, the state honours both compassion and the rule of law.

CAN DESTINY BE CHANGED? YES - AND HERE’S HOW.

 

                                      

Some people believe destiny is fixed, that our lives are already written and we are merely acting out a script.

That belief is comforting when things go wrong… but dangerous when it stops us from taking responsibility.

In truth, what many call destiny is really fate, the personal consequences of our past thoughts, words, and actions.

Fate is a harvest.

And every harvest depends on seeds.

If we sow envy, bitterness, dishonesty or hatred, should we expect joy in return? Impossible.

If we plant kindness, gratitude, integrity and goodwill, is peace not the natural outcome? Certainly.

This unbreakable principle is known as the Law of Sowing and Reaping, the Law of Reciprocal Action.

It is the Creator’s way of ensuring perfect justice, making every human being the architect of his own fate.

But there is also destiny in a higher sense; not merely what affects us personally, but what radiates from us into the world itself. Through our inner choices, we can contribute to either progress or decline. With every thought, wish, and act of volition, we either poison our surroundings or uplift them toward the Light. Thus, man does not merely shape his personal fate; he participates in steering the collective course of the world upward or downward.

So whether in the personal sense (fate) or the broader sense (destiny), one truth remains constant:

Change is possible.

And it begins with:

• True repentance - sincere recognition of past wrongs

• A firm decision to change - refusal to sow further negative seeds

• Conscious planting of good seeds - in thought, word, and deed

A person who consistently walks this path begins to attract protection — a spiritual covering that lessens the weight of former consequences. Some effects may still return, but with reduced impact, depending on the depth of inner transformation.

The Power and the Risk

Just as a wrongdoer can rise through goodness, a noble man can fall through willful wrongdoing.

Nothing is static. Both fate and destiny respond instantly to the direction of our will.

Concluding Word

We are not victims of fate.

Nor are we mere passengers in destiny.

We are farmers in God’s field, planting not only for ourselves but for the world.

Let us plant wisely.

Our future and the future of many others depends on it.

WHEN OPPORTUNITY MEETS DESIRE: A CALL TO HUMILITY

 

There is a subtle danger in the human heart: the belief that we are stronger, wiser, or more disciplined than others simply because we have not yet faced their kind of temptation. Many walk with an air of quiet pride, mistaking lack of opportunity for moral superiority. Yet, humility begins where this illusion ends.

 

True humility is not self-belittlement; it is the awareness that under different circumstances, we might have done the very things we condemn in others. The only difference between strength and failure, between standing tall and falling hard, is often that invisible intersection where desire meets access. That moment when longing finds opportunity is the true test of character. And unless we have stood in that storm ourselves, we should be careful not to boast of our calm.

 

The mind itself is a master of self-deception. It can rationalise anything. One day we may vehemently reject an idea; a few weeks later, under different emotions or influences, we may find ourselves defending the same thing we once detested. It is only when grace opens our eyes again that we look back in wonder, asking, “What just happened to me?” That moment of realisation births wisdom and compassion. For we begin to understand that others, too, are fighting their own invisible wars.

 

This is why I find no joy in the public sport of digging up old videos or statements to mock how someone’s opinions have changed over the years. Growth demands evolution. To hold someone hostage to who they were ten or twenty years ago is to deny the very essence of being human. We are all being reshaped by experience, by pain, by revelation, by time.

 

If you have never stumbled in a certain area, give thanks, not judgment. If you have overcome a weakness that once enslaved you, wear gratitude, not pride. It was not by your strength alone, but by grace, that merciful force that lifts, restores, and forgives. For without grace and the law of forgiveness, none of us would stand.

 

So, let us walk humbly. Let us resist the temptation to measure others by their worst moments while measuring ourselves by our best intentions. And when we see someone fall, may our first instinct not be to point fingers, but to whisper a prayer of mercy for them and for ourselves. Because humility is not thinking less of ourselves; it is remembering how easily we, too, could have been the ones in need of grace.

WHEN LEGACY MEETS REALITY: THE CLASH BETWEEN TRADITION AND CHANGE

  

 

There is a quiet tragedy that often unfolds in families when the dreams of one generation fail to find roots in the next. The video of a father in visible agony after realising that his only son, heir to his life’s labour, had no interest in the landed properties he so carefully preserved in Nigeria captures this age-old tension between legacy and change. It is not merely a family dispute; it is a mirror of evolving social values, migration, and the transformation of what inheritance truly means. 

For many parents, especially in traditional societies, wealth is not only measured in cash or comfort but in continuity, passing land, houses, and family names from one generation to another. Such assets often carry sentimental and symbolic value. They represent toil, foresight, and a deep desire for permanence in a world of uncertainty. To the father in this story, bequeathing his properties was an act of love and responsibility, an anchor meant to tie his lineage to their ancestral soil. 

But to the son, the world has shifted. His sense of identity and belonging may no longer be tied to a physical place. As a medical professional abroad, his values are framed by mobility, global exposure, and a different definition of security, perhaps in financial instruments, education, or health insurance, not land in a distant country he seldom visits. His “zero connection” to Nigeria is not necessarily ingratitude; it is the natural outcome of globalisation, urban drift, and changing life aspirations. 

This tension reveals a profound generational dilemma. The father’s fixation on legacy, though noble, assumes a continuity that modernity often disrupts. Meanwhile, the son’s detachment, though practical, risks eroding the emotional and cultural bonds that give identity its depth. Between them lies a silent question: should legacy be enforced, or should it evolve? 

The father, faced with the son’s adamant stand, has a few options. He could, first, accept the inevitability of change and redirect his legacy from material inheritance to values-based inheritance, perhaps funding a foundation, scholarship, or community project in the family name. This way, what he leaves behind still bears the imprint of his vision but does not burden an unwilling heir. 

Second, he might choose to lease or sell some of the properties, converting them into an endowment that benefits future generations more directly, perhaps through education or investment portfolios. The essence of legacy lies not in the immovability of land but in the continuity of purpose. 

Third, he could maintain a portion of the property as a family retreat or ancestral site, not as an obligation but as a voluntary bridge between past and present, something the next generation might one day rediscover, even if belatedly.

 Ultimately, this story underscores that tradition must learn to negotiate with change. Fixation on the past may breed bitterness; abandonment of roots may breed emptiness. The wise path lies somewhere in between, where love, not land, becomes the lasting inheritance, and where the idea of legacy is redefined not by geography but by meaning. 

In the end, the father may not win his son’s attachment, but he can still win peace, by realising that every generation must plant in its own soil, even if that soil lies thousands of miles away.

UFOS, ALIENS, AND THE FINE LINE BETWEEN WONDER AND PROOF

  

 

For as long as humans have gazed at the stars, we have wondered whether we are alone. The night sky invites both awe and unease, an infinite silence that seems too vast for just one species. In recent years, talk of UFOs (now politely renamed “UAPs,” or Unidentified Aerial Phenomena) has returned with fresh urgency. Governments have released once-classified footage, pilots have reported strange encounters, and a few scientists have suggested that what we see might not be entirely of this world.

But between wonder and proof lies a wide and necessary gulf. The late astronomer Carl Sagan cautioned that “extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence.” His point remains timeless: belief must not outrun verification. That caution is often drowned out by the noise of viral videos and conspiracy enthusiasts, but it is what separates science from superstition.

Neil deGrasse Tyson, the modern torchbearer of scientific curiosity, puts it more humorously: “Everyone has an HD camera in their pocket, yet every UFO photo is still blurry.” His jest masks a serious truth that mystery alone does not equal evidence. Curiosity must be matched by clarity.

Still, voices like Harvard astrophysicist Avi Loeb remind us not to dismiss the unknown too quickly. Loeb has suggested that the interstellar object ‘Oumuamua’ whose strange motion and shape defy conventional explanation, could be artificial, perhaps even a fragment of alien technology. To be clear, he does not claim it is alien-made, only that science should remain open to that possibility if the evidence warrants it. His view invites both skepticism and serious inquiry, reminding us that progress often comes not from rigid intellectual certainty, but from disciplined curiosity.

Even military agencies now admit that some sightings remain unexplained. Not proof of aliens, but proof that we do not yet understand everything. And perhaps that is the beauty of it.

The question of extraterrestrial life will not be settled by excitement or cynicism alone, but by patient evidence and open minds. Between the thrill of possibility and the discipline of proof lies humanity’s finest quality: the courage to wonder and to wait for the truth.

DO SOCIAL CONNECTIONS ALWAYS MEAN SOCIAL GATHERINGS?

 

 

It is widely accepted that, as people grow older, maintaining social connections plays a vital role in happiness and wellbeing. But what exactly does “social connection” mean, and does it always require active participation in large social gatherings?

 

For many, the image of connection conjures up groups of friends or acquaintances eating, drinking, and chatting for hours. Such activities can indeed bring joy and a sense of belonging. Yet, for others, especially those with more introverted temperaments, these gatherings can feel draining rather than energizing. This raises an important question: can social connection take other forms?

 

The answer is yes. Social connection is not limited to physical presence in group settings. Basically, it is about meaningful bonds, trust, and the assurance that one is not alone in the world. Connection may be nurtured through deep relationships with family and friends, participation in spiritual or faith-based activities, involvement in purposeful work, or even through creative expression that touches and engages others.

 

Personality differences matter. Extroverts may thrive on long hours of group interaction, while introverts often find fulfillment in quieter, more purposeful exchanges. What is essential is not the form, but the function: having supportive relationships, remaining open to contact, and staying engaged in meaningful activities.

 

In this sense, the call to maintain social connections in later life is best understood not as a mandate to join every gathering, but as an invitation to ensure one’s life is not lived in isolation. Whether through a few trusted friendships, shared worship, mentorship, or purposeful creative work, individuals can cultivate connection in ways that align with their own nature.

 

Ultimately, happiness in later years is not about copying the social patterns of others. It is about finding the rhythm of interaction whether frequent or occasional, lively or quiet, that nourishes one’s sense of belonging and joy.

 

 

 

 

 

WHEN BLESSINGS COME DISGUISED

 

 

 

Sometimes life feels like it’s playing tricks on us. Just when everything seems to be moving smoothly, something unexpected happens; a delay, a disappointment, a door slammed shut. Most people call this a setback or reversal of fortune. But look closely, and you’ll notice something profound: there are no real setbacks, only secret instructions.

What seems like a roadblock is often a rerouting. A “No” may simply be life’s way of saying, “Not this direction.” When we react with frustration or self-pity, we miss the message. But with spiritual understanding, everything changes.

Every challenge arrives with purpose. It is either training you, building strength, clarity, or discipline you didn’t know you needed, or helping you quietly settle old imbalances that must be cleared before new blessings can arrive. In both cases, you are being moved forward, not backward, provided you meet the moment with the right inner posture.

That inner posture is what I call good volition: the sincere will to always do only what is good, stay upright, act rightly, and keep moving forward with dignity. This is not passive positivity; it is spiritual force. It attracts help. It dissolves burdens faster than fear or complaint ever could. With the right intention, obstacles stop being walls and start becoming stepping stones. What once felt like misfortune slowly reveals itself as quiet advancement.

So the next time life seems to be working against you, smile even if slightly. It may be working for you in disguise. After all, the strongest catapult must first be pulled backward before it launches forward with force.

If life is pulling you back at present, don’t panic. Steady yourself. Hold your ground. It may not be rejection, it may just be preparation.

You’re probably about to fly.

Stay positive, do good always!

LESSONS, NOT LOADS

 

Fridays often arrive with mixed feelings. Some people breathe relief, others feel weighed down by unfinished tasks, unanswered emails, or goals that still seem far away. The week leaves its marks, and many of us drag those burdens into the weekend without even noticing.

But what if we chose differently? What if, instead of carrying the weight of disappointments, delays, and worries, we carried only the lessons?

Think about it: a traveler who insists on packing stones in their bag will struggle to walk far. Yet when the same traveler picks up only essentials: water, bread, and hope, the journey becomes lighter, freer, and more joyful. Life works the same way.

Every week brings us both challenges and gifts. The gift lies in learning from the challenges without clinging to their heaviness. That’s how we carry light.

So as you step into this weekend, pause for a moment:

What do I need to leave behind? (Maybe guilt, frustration, or comparison.)

What do I want to carry with me? (Maybe gratitude, clarity, or renewed energy.)

The choice is always ours. Let’s walk into tomorrow not bent under burdens, but lifted by light.

Choose clarity. Choose joy.

Love always!

ANGER

 

Do you still flare up and throw caution to the wind simply because someone wronged you? Must another person’s foolishness drag you down to the same level provoking you to shout, speak rashly, or pour out venom? In truth, such outbursts are not marks of strength but signs of weakness. True power, and indeed true humility, are revealed in calmness under fire.

As children we were wisely asked: “If someone told you to put your fingers in the fire, would you?” Of course not. The pain and damage would be yours, not theirs. Yet anger works the same way. When we let another person’s actions provoke us into rage, we burn ourselves first. Their misconduct becomes our excuse for self-destruction. But wisdom whispers otherwise: another person’s bad behavior is never a license for us to lose our dignity.

Calling a fool a “bloody fool” does not make him more foolish. It simply exposes how much maturity and discipline we ourselves still lack. A sharp tongue may feel satisfying in the moment, but its wounds often cut deeper than intended, damaging relationships, reputations, and even our inner peace.

Ralph Waldo Emerson puts it plainly: “For every minute you are angry, you lose sixty seconds of happiness.” Anger robs us of joy, clouds our judgment, and blinds us to nobler paths. It narrows our vision until all we see is offense, while the broader opportunities for wisdom, peace, and growth slip past unnoticed.

Harmony alone furthers us. To choose calmness in the heat of provocation is not weakness, it is mastery. Let us therefore resolve to embrace refinement, to cultivate patience, and to walk in that noble simplicity which shines in the naturalness of perpetual self-control.

FROM 1 TO 400: WITH GRATITUDE, THE JOURNEY OF SPIRITUAL ACTIVISM CONTINUES

 

 

Crossing the 400-post milestone is more than a number; it is a milestone in a journey. When I began this blog in June 2007, my only compass was a simple conviction: that words, when offered sincerely, can inspire, uplift, and illuminate.

Eighteen years later, what began as a quiet act of sharing has grown into a treasury of over 400 reflections spanning spirituality, personal growth, social harmony, and the search for meaning in everyday life. Each post has been a stone laid on the path of discovery, not just for me, but for every reader who has walked alongside through reflections, and silent nods of resonance.

This blog, Spiritual Activism … sharing experiences, has become a space where faith meets thought, where questions lead to deeper seeking, and where experiences, personal or collective are transformed into insight. Whether I write about the Last Words of the Saviour on the Cross, the challenges of modern living, or the timeless call for peace, my aim has always been to guide hearts toward the path of Truth.

Milestones matter as they remind us of the distance traveled and the possibilities ahead. 400 posts are not just words on a page; they are seeds sown, and I believe their fruits will continue to blossom in ways I may never fully see.

To every reader, silent or vocal, occasional or consistent: thank you. Your presence is the wind in the sails of this journey. May the next 400 posts deepen our shared exploration and bring us all closer to the joy of living in truth, purity and love.

Here’s to words that heal, thoughts that awaken, and connections that endure.

With gratitude,

Ṣọlá Adeyegbe

INTUITION AND THE INNER VOICE

 

Many people ask: Is intuition the same as the inner voice? Or, is intuition simply part of it?

The truth is, yes, intuition is the inner voice. It is that quiet whisper of the spirit within us, speaking with clarity beyond thought or emotion. Unlike feelings, which rise and fall with moods, or the intellect, which reasons and calculates, intuition is a deeper inner knowing, inner sensing. It comes from the spirit, untouched by space and time, steady and sure.

Think about the first impression you have when meeting someone. Before words are spoken, before appearances are fully judged, something inside you already responds, sometimes a gentle caution, other times an immediate sense of closeness. That’s intuition. Yet how often do we ignore it, convincing ourselves with arguments or emotions, only to later discover that our first inner sensing was right?

The confusion arises because we often mistake feelings for intuition. Feelings are rooted in the body, shaped by instincts, and coloured by thoughts and imagination. They shift easily, changing with moods and circumstances, and can mislead us. Intuition, by contrast, is steady and unmistakable. It comes in a flash, often as a picture or a quiet certainty with no long reasoning, no back-and-forth arguments. It simply speaks, clear and direct.While imagination stirs only our own emotions, intuition carries a living power. It can reach others, awaken them, and shine with conviction.

The real tragedy is not that intuition fails us, but that we fail to hear it. When we exalt the intellect above all else, or let emotions cloud our judgment, we build walls that muffle the inner voice. But that voice never disappears. It remains pure, waiting for us to turn down the noise, lift the veil, and listen.

So the task is not to “develop” intuition as it is always ready to guide us in the right direction. Our task is to free ourselves from the dominance of restless intellectual selfish thoughts and fleeting feelings. With an honest will to live truthfully and to seek what is good, the spark within us flares into flame. And when it does, the inner voice becomes not only a guide, but a light on the path of life.

POLYGAMY BEYOND THE SIN DEBATE

 

Polygamy isn’t just about sin or no sin, it’s about the lives it shapes, the hearts it strains, and the justice it questions. Behind the debates are real families, real emotions, and real struggles that go far beyond a yes-or-no verdict. What if the real question isn’t “Is it a sin?” but “Does it nurture peace, justice, and love?”

Beyond Sin Labels

Different faiths and cultures view polygamy differently. Some permit it, some frown on it. But beyond doctrine lies the lived reality: how it affects men, women, and children on a daily basis.

The Real Issues

1. Emotional Well-being – Rivalry and jealousy often surface in polygamous homes. Women may accept it outwardly but struggle inwardly with sharing one man.

2. Physical Hygiene – Multiple partners require greater responsibility in health and intimacy.

3. Financial Strain – Supporting several families or family members fairly is a challenge; inequality breeds resentment.

4. Parenting Challenges – Children may face neglect or favoritism, which affects their confidence and family bonds.

5. Power and Gender Dynamics – Polygamy often reflects male privilege, where women’s autonomy is limited.

The Case Supporters Make

Proponents argue that polygamy can provide social security in societies where women outnumber men, offering companionship and stability. They also point to cultural traditions or scriptural examples as justification.

An Evolving Humanity

Yet humanity evolves. What was permissible in ages past may no longer fit today. As societies grow in education, justice, and spiritual awareness, relationships are increasingly measured not by tradition but by whether they foster peace, chastity, fairness, and true love.

Looking Within

The real question, then, is not whether polygamy is a sin, but whether it leads us closer to spiritual wholeness. Does it build peace? Does it honor justice? Does it uplift love? Each of us must look within and follow the path that aligns with our deepest spiritual growth.

WAKEFULNESS: THE BEST DEFENCE

To be awake is to live fully, alert to both the unseen spiritual realities and the tangible earthly environment around us. Many fall into the error of leaning too far in one direction: some pursue spiritual enlightenment while neglecting the practical demands of life, while others get lost in worldly pursuits and silence the voice of the spirit within. Both paths, in isolation, invite harm.

A man who lives solely in the spiritual, forgetting his earthly responsibilities, leaves open doors for ill-disposed men to manipulate, exploit, and even dominate. By detaching himself from the world’s practical realities, he surrenders the ground to those who are all too eager to seize it. On the other hand, a man who immerses himself only in earthly matters, without spiritual awareness, walks blindly into traps, driven only by ambition or fear, without guidance from higher wisdom.

True safety and progress lie in balance. To be awake spiritually is to sharpen discernment, strengthen inner sight, and anchor life on eternal truth. To be awake on earth is to act wisely, responsibly, and courageously in the environment where we live. One cannot survive without the other.

Wakefulness is both the best defense and the severest struggle. It demands discipline, vigilance, and courage to resist the temptation of sleep whether spiritual slumber or earthly indifference. Yet through this wakefulness, we stand guard over our lives, protect our families, and prevent evil attacks before they strike.

The call is clear: do not drift through life half-asleep. Keep your spirit alive, and your eyes open to the world around you. In the harmony of earth and spirit, we find the strength to live wisely and victoriously.

RACES AND NATIONS: THE INNER DISPOSITIONS THAT SHAPE HUMANITY

 

Humanity, in all its richness, is marked not only by physical diversity but also by the inner temperaments that shape entire nations and races. These temperaments are not random; they are deeply connected to the environment in which a people come into being, the food they eat, the climate under which they live, the radiations of the stars to which they are exposed, and the collective level of their spiritual maturity. Each race, each nation, carries with it a unique disposition that influences its history, its culture, and its role in the greater fabric of humankind.

Some peoples display a sanguine temperament; a childlike openness to joy, warmth, and spontaneity. This stage of humanity reflects a kind of innocence, an early chapter of development. It can be seen in the light-heartedness of certain island peoples and, more prominently, in the vibrancy of Latin nations. Such societies radiate vitality, but they may also struggle with depth or steadiness, revealing both the charm and the limitation of the sanguine spirit.

On the other hand, peoples of a melancholic disposition stand poised before action, rooted in deeper reflection. They are marked by seriousness, discipline, and the weight of responsibility. The Germanic peoples, for example, embody this temperament; standing not in childish exuberance but in awakening maturity, ready to shoulder tasks and transform thought into deed.

These temperamental distinctions are not judgments of superiority but insights into stages of development and modes of being. Humanity’s strength lies in this diversity: the joy of the sanguine balances the seriousness of the melancholic; the reflective depth of one race complements the lightheartedness of another. If understood rightly, these temperaments need not divide, but instead enrich the harmony of the whole.

In recognising the temperamental gifts of nations and races, we begin to see humanity not as fragmented, but as a great orchestra, each section playing its part, contributing to the music of creation. The true task before us is to honor these differences, learn from them, and weave them together into a balanced and noble future. 

THE HARMONY OF HUMAN RACES: A CALL TO BALANCE AND UNITY

Humanity is richly blessed with diversity. Across the earth, different races and nations have emerged, each endowed with unique gifts, strengths, and perspectives. Yet, instead of division, this diversity ought to inspire harmony, for the law of balance must govern relationships among the races. Just as nature thrives on equilibrium, so too must human society find its strength in mutual respect, understanding, and cooperation. Every viable nation, every healthy race possesses something that is indispensable for the completion of the whole. What one people lack, another provides; what one race cherishes, another complements. These values, both spiritual and earthly form the collective wealth of humankind.

To the realm of spiritual values belong those inner qualities that connect people to the Power of Creation: the gifts of intuition, wisdom, creativity, compassion, and the strength to apply these blessings for the benefit of earthly life. To the realm of earthly values belong the treasures that can be seen and touched: the capacity to work, the forces of nature such as fire, water, and air, the wealth hidden within the soil, and the breathtaking beauty of landscapes. When combined, these spiritual and earthly treasures create the foundation of a world where no race is superior and no nation is dispensable.

Such values make exchange not only desirable but imperative. Each race holds its gifts in trust, not as private possessions, but as contributions to the greater good of humanity. None is to withhold what the other needs, for these treasures are meant to flow, enriching all. Yet this exchange must be carried out with fairness: giving and taking should always counterbalance each other. No people should take advantage of another, for imbalance breeds strife, while balance nurtures peace.

If humanity embraces this principle of balance, then mistrust and rivalry will give way to trust and cooperation. The races of the earth will no longer stand opposed, but side by side, as partners in building a world that reflects the harmony of creation itself. In this way, diversity will no longer divide, but unite us in strength, wisdom, and shared destiny.

 

Prayer: Beyond Words, Toward God

 

Prayer is not meant to be a routine of repeated phrases or a long recital of requests. True prayer springs from the depths of the soul and carries with it reverence, simplicity, and sincerity. Christ Himself taught: “Let your speech be yea or nay!” and this commandment about our speech extends to our prayers as well, reminding us that they should be just as direct and truthful.

Jesus cautioned against praying for the sake of appearances or out of empty habit. Every prayer should arise from an inner stirring whether joy or sorrow. He warned: “Dare to pray only when your soul stirs, but every prayer out of presumption or habit is sacrilege to God!” Such teaching underscores that prayer is not performance, but communion with the Living God.

One of Christ’s greatest gifts to humanity is The Lord’s Prayer. It is far more than a collection of sacred words; it is the very essence of His teaching. Each line is alive with power, serving as both staff and torch supporting us in our struggles while lighting our path toward spiritual ascent. The Grail Message reveals that The Lord’s Prayer contains the whole Gospel in concentrated form, a key to heaven for those who pray it with sincerity and strive to live by it.

Unlike the endless petitions common in prayer today, The Lord’s Prayer is primarily a series of solemn promises to our Creator. When we say “Hallowed be Thy Name, Thy Kingdom come, Thy Will be done,” we are vowing to honour God, to welcome His reign, and to submit to His Will. Only then do we utter a petition-“Give us this day our daily bread”which, in its true sense, is a request for strength and blessing to fulfil the promises we have just made.

The petition for forgiveness reveals the working of God’s Law: “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.” Here, forgiveness is not begged as a gift but acknowledged as a condition; we can only receive it if we ourselves forgive. Thus, prayer aligns us with the eternal Laws of sowing and reaping.

Christ taught that the right order of prayer is to place the Kingdom of Heaven and its righteousness above all else, with the assurance that everything else we need will follow. The story of the two thieves crucified with Him makes this clear: one demanded rescue from earthly suffering, while the other sought only to be remembered in Christ’s Kingdom. To the latter came the promise of Paradise, the miracle of all miracles.

Jesus also emphasised private prayer, away from display. This principle was mirrored in other servants of God. Mohammed, in preparation for his mission, withdrew into solitude for prayer and fasting. Under his leadership, five daily prayers were instituted, not as empty ritual but as reminders to live constantly in God’s Presence. Facing East symbolised opening to the Light, while ablutions served as signs of the inner purity required to serve God.

Lao-Tse, God’s messenger to China, left us a prayer of moving simplicity: “Sublime, Almighty God, I no longer wish to be anything myself. Make me into an ever better instrument of Thine, into Thy servant!”

From Christ to Mohammed to Lao-Tse, the message is consistent: prayer is not for begging earthly favours but for drawing nearer to God, aligning with His Will, and becoming His instrument. At our core, we are spirits, and prayer is the channel through which we seek the Kingdom first, trusting that everything else we truly need will follow.

Let us therefore approach prayer with reverence and truth, speaking only when our souls stir, and allowing every word to link us more closely to the Will of our Heavenly Father.

STRIKING THE WRONG ENEMY: WHY ACTIVISM OFTEN FAILS

 

Activism and protest are powerful tools when rightly directed, but too often they end up exhausting the very people who champion them. Protesters chant, argue, and denounce with passion, but like warriors wielding a dull sword, they often strike at non-essential things that only dent their weapon. In doing so, they miss the true mark, waste their strength, and create disunity among themselves. As a result, their energy dissipates, their movements fracture, and their causes wither without lasting change.

The problem is not the absence of zeal or courage. Many activists, past and present, have fought with tenacity, some even at great personal cost. Their sincerity cannot be doubted. Yet, the lack of clarity about the real enemy makes their struggle ineffective from the start. Like a soldier swinging a blunt sword, their blows fall on non-essentials- tangential policies, personalities, or superficial reforms, while the deeper roots of the crisis remain untouched. Inevitably, strength is wasted, divisions arise, and discouragement follows.

But who or what is this real enemy? It is not merely corrupt politicians, unjust systems, or even oppressive structures. These are symptoms, not the source. The deeper foe is the unchecked rule of the human intellect, cut off from higher spiritual guidance. This domination of cold, calculating intellect over conscience and spirit is humanity’s true fall. It is the “hereditary sin” that tilts every institution, every ambition, and every movement toward self-interest, exploitation, and eventual decay. Scripture hints at this reality when it speaks of the Antichrist, not as a single man, but as the spirit of godlessness and arrogance embodied in the intellect’s claim to supremacy.

This perspective does not mean activism is futile. On the contrary, it means activism must be sharpened by truth. A movement that merely shouts at symptoms but ignores the underlying spiritual distortion will remain sterile. But when reformers recognise the true battle, the restoration of conscience, humility, and alignment with Divine Laws, their efforts gain focus and enduring power. Words, then, cease to be empty noise or corrosive complaint; they become instruments of light that cut to the heart of the matter and inspire lasting transformation.

The challenge for today’s activists and protesters is therefore to pause and reflect: What are we truly fighting? If we do not identify the real enemy, we risk fuelling the very forces we oppose. But if we learn to strike at the root, guided by truth and clarity, then every word, every action, and every sacrifice becomes part of a cause that cannot fail.

The true enemy is not the system outside, but the unchecked intellect within.

THE POWER OF SAYING LESS

We live in an age of constant chatter. Words flow endlessly in conversations, on social media, in the news, yet much of it lacks depth, truth, or sincerity. This phenomenon, which can be rightly regarded as the “talking epidemic,” has become one of the most damaging habits of our time. It is not speech itself that is harmful, but the careless and thoughtless way we often use it.

Many people are quick to form opinions on things they do not truly understand. In itself, this might seem harmless, but when such careless remarks are spread around, they take on the appearance of truth. Soon, these unfounded statements are accepted thoughtlessly in some circles as knowledge. Once established, they persist stubbornly, influencing lives and decisions, even though no one can trace how they began. In this way, careless words often cause great harm, yet people continue to prattle, sometimes out of spite, vanity, idleness, or simply to be noticed.

This epidemic of empty talk is tied to the dominance of the intellect over the spirit. In chasing endless words, we drown out the quiet voice of intuition, which requires silence and inward stillness to flourish. True perception is weakened by superficial chatter. That is why, instinctively, we tend to place more trust in someone who speaks with restraint than in a prattler. Even without realising it, people sense that those who talk too much, especially on matters they do not grasp, cannot be trusted.

The tragedy is that prattlers often do not see the harm they cause. With their superficiality, they become destructive, sowing confusion, pain, and misunderstanding. In contrast, when our words are true and sincere, they carry light. Good words uplift both speaker and listener, creating threads of strength and blessing. By disciplining our speech, choosing to say only what is useful and meaningful, we store within ourselves the power of silence, a force that enriches our inner life and strengthens our presence in the world.

This does not mean we should become miserly with words. Human life requires communication, encouragement, teaching, and exchange. But it does mean we must avoid speaking superficially or without sincerity. Instead of wasting hours on idle chatter, let us cultivate noble silence and purposeful speech. In doing so, our words will hold weight, inspire confidence, and open doors to deeper understanding.

The talking epidemic pulls humanity downward into triviality. The noble silence of reflection and the sincerity of meaningful words lift us upward toward truth. Let us guard our tongues, turn our words into lamps of light, and never dismiss the shadows cast by careless chatter.

👑 Kings and Priestesses of Purity: Lessons from Proverbs 31

 

Proverbs 31 is one of the most profound chapters in Scripture because it paints two powerful portraits side by side: the king instructed by his mother, and the virtuous woman whose life is a model of strength, dignity, and purpose. Together, they offer a blueprint for true leadership. One that applies not just to monarchs and wives of old, but to every man and woman called to live with wisdom, responsibility, and influence.

The chapter begins with the words of King Lemuel, recording the counsel of his mother. She reminds him that leadership is a sacred trust. A king must guard against indulgence in excesses that cloud judgment whether wine, lust, or power, because such indulgence destroys rulers. Instead, he must stand for justice, defend the rights of the poor and needy, and govern with fairness and compassion.

Though her words were directed to a king, the wisdom is timeless. We are to prayerfully consider ourselves as “kings and priests” in our daily lives. Whether in the workplace, in our families, or in society, each of us exercises influence. The call, then, is to lead with clarity of vision, discipline of character, and a servant’s heart. Leadership is never merely about authority but about stewardship using what we have for the good of others.

Many leaders today lose sight of this truth. They indulge in wealth, power, and pleasure, forgetting that the highest ruler is first a servant. To lead well, one must seek wisdom from above, cultivate discipline, and grow continually. Good leaders read, listen, and surround themselves with wise counsel that sharpens their decisions and strengthens their will. True kings are not tyrants but guardians of justice and examples of character.

This wisdom extends to every individual. We may not sit on earthly thrones, but we are all called to rule well over our lives. Each choice we make, how we spend our time, how we treat others, how we nurture our minds and hearts, reveals whether we are reigning wisely or carelessly. To be a king in life is to live with purpose and responsibility, ensuring that our influence builds rather than destroy.

It is in this context that the chapter presents the virtuous woman. Too often reduced to a symbol of domestic excellence, she is far more than that. She is a figure of strength, industry, and purposeful influence. She manages resources with wisdom, rises early to provide for her household, shows kindness to the poor, and builds trust through integrity. Her value, says the Scripture, is “far above rubies.”

What makes her remarkable is not outward charm or beauty, for “favour is deceitful and beauty is vain.” Instead, she is a woman who fears the Lord. In that reverence she finds dignity, and exercises lasting influence. Every woman carries a pervasive power to shape homes, workplaces, and societies. The Proverbs 31 woman reminds us that such influence is not to be squandered on vanity or selfish gain, but channeled into purity and service, lifting others and guiding them toward what is good.

When these two portraits are placed together, the king who rules with wisdom and restraint, and the woman who leads with purity and strength, we see a complete vision of leadership. Our world today desperately needs such examples: men who refuse indulgence and lead with justice, and women who wield their influence with virtue and wisdom.

In truth, leadership is less about the throne you sit on and more about the life you live. Whether man or woman, we are all called to be kings and priestesses, carrying the weight of influence with responsibility, purity, and love. For men, the crown is not for domination but for service. For women, the influence is not for vanity but for virtue. For all of us, the call is to rule ourselves first, to train our thoughts, refine our character, and anchor our choices in God’s wisdom.

When we live this way, Proverbs 31 ceases to be merely ancient counsel; it becomes a living guide for transformation. And as we embrace its wisdom, our homes, communities, and societies will be shaped by leaders whose legacy is not indulgence or vanity, but wisdom, service, and godliness.