WHY DO INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS ARISE, WHO DO THEY TROUBLE MOST, AND HOW CAN WE BREAK FREE?

 

Intrusive thoughts are among the most unsettling experiences a person can have. They are unpleasant, unwanted ideas or images that push into the mind even when the thinker desires the very opposite. The harder one tries to resist them, the more insistently they seem to return, sometimes to the point of “drumming in one’s ears” and disturbing one’s peace. For many, this can become a source of real suffering, raising troubling questions: Why is this happening to me? Does this mean something is wrong with me inwardly? Am I, perhaps, secretly evil?

Let us be clear and reassuring: intrusive thoughts do not reveal the true nature of a person. In fact, the very distress they cause is evidence that the inner being is better, far better than the momentary thoughts passing through. A person who is troubled by such thoughts is simply thinking contrary to what they inwardly will. One’s genuine volition, what the spirit truly desires, always expresses itself in conduct, not in the fleeting images that brush across the surface of the mind. Most people, if they are honest, experience similar disturbances. And if all this sounds familiar, then, dear reader, you are by no means alone, and you need not be alarmed.

Why, then, do some people suffer more deeply from intrusive thoughts than others? Often it is because sensitive or conscientious individuals take their thoughts too seriously. They examine and re-examine them, brooding over their meaning. In doing so, they unintentionally give these thoughts strength and durability. Yet thoughts of this kind have very little power. When not fed by fear, worry, or constant attention, the forms produced by them quickly dissolve and scatter without causing harm.

Freedom begins not with fighting these thoughts, but with redirecting the attention. Instead of wrestling with the unwanted, turn deliberately toward what is pure, noble, and uplifting. You may wish to focus your mind on virtues such as truthfulness, dignity, diligence, chastity, loyalty, productivity, modesty, and grace; or on the sublime concepts of love, purity, and the immutable laws of the Almighty. A mind consciously directed upward cannot simultaneously sink into the mire of intrusive imaginings.

Above all, do not brood. Do not circle endlessly around what troubles you. Intrusive thoughts thrive on attention but starve when ignored. As you consistently withdraw your energy and turn your inner gaze toward higher things, these disturbances naturally lose their grip and fade away.

And when the pressure feels heavy, or the mind refuses to quiet itself, a short, sincere, fervent prayer can bring immediate relief. It reconnects you with your true inner core, where peace and clarity quietly abide.

Intrusive thoughts are not a verdict on your character; they are merely shadows passing across the mind. And at any moment, you can lift yourself toward the Heights, renew your course, and open yourself to the pure Power of God streaming through you, an ever-present strength that dissolves all shadows and restores the radiance of your spirit.

Footnote:

For some individuals, especially those living with conditions such as Obsessive–Compulsive Disorder (OCD), intrusive thoughts may present with far greater intensity and persistence. These can include dark, disturbing, or even “command-like” thoughts that feel utterly foreign to one’s true nature. It is important to emphasise that such thoughts still do not reflect the person’s inner essence; rather, they stem from a heightened sensitivity of the mind and a tendency toward repetitive thought-loops.

Alongside the spiritual steps outlined in this essay, professional support can be immensely helpful, particularly therapies that teach how to disengage from these cycles and reduce their emotional force. Both paths, spiritual strengthening and appropriate therapeutic guidance can work together to restore clarity, peace, and the upward striving of the spirit.

WHERE IS THE MIND LOCATED?

One might ask: is the mind located in the brain, in the heart, scattered throughout the body, or somewhere beyond the physical altogether? Quiet reflection, however, reveals that the mind cannot be confined to any single organ or even solely to the visible body. Instead, it encompasses the totality of conscious experience: a dynamic synthesis of intuition, intellect, bodily instincts, feelings, and imagination, spanning both the material and the spiritual. The mind cannot be pinned to one place; it moves where intuition meets intellect, and spirit meets flesh.

On one side lies intuition, the pure spiritual core of the mind, the very essence of man. It transcends space and time, perceiving truth without measurement, understanding without reasoning, and knowing without argument. Intuition is inviolate and cannot err; it is the first impression, the inner voice that immediately recognises reality. Its reach extends beyond intellect, feeling, and bodily instincts, connecting us to a dimension of knowing that is eternal and unbound by the limits of matter.

On the other side lies the corporeal dimension: the body, its instincts, intellect, feelings, and imagination. Intellect, emerging from the brain, thinks, analyses, plans, and organises. It is bound to space and time, capable of remarkable feats, yet limited to what can be seen, measured, and remembered. Feeling does not arise from some mysterious spiritual source; it emanates from the physical body. The body generates instincts, which, when shaped and interpreted by the intellect, give rise to feeling. Only through the cooperation of feeling and intellect does imagination emerge, a picture-world created by these lower faculties, not from the heights of intuition. Imagination, though ethereal, lacks spiritual power. It influences only its creator and does not radiate outward. Intuition is different: it carries spiritual power within itself, creative, vital, and alive, sending forth energy that can inspire, influence, and move others.

From this perspective, the mind can be said to be woven throughout the body and reaching into the unseen realms, embedded in every organ, system, and sensory pathway. The body serves as a vessel through which spiritual intuition engages the material world. Perhaps the mind is not located at a single point at all, but exists as an integrated network, uniting the physical and the eternal.

Ultimately, the mind is found where spirit meets matter. It resides in the brain, the heart, the hands, and in the subtle currents of instinct and feeling. True clarity of mind emerges when intuition leads and intellect follows, when the spiritual spark within flows through the bodily vessel via the tools available to it. Perhaps, if we pause and reflect, we may begin to sense this interplay for ourselves. The mind can be seen as a bridge between mortal and eternal, the meeting place of knowing and doing, and the instrument through which life may be more fully understood. I invite each of us to explore its depths with patience and openness.

HOW DEEP IS THE MIND?

The mind is the most mysterious part of our existence; unseen, untouchable, yet  shaping every step we take. Though we often speak of the mind as one single entity, it expresses itself through two distinct channels: the intellect and the intuition. These two do not merely sit side by side; they represent the partnership between our earthly body and our eternal spirit. And until we understand the difference, we will continue to live far below our true potential.

Intellect is the voice of the frontal brain, the part of the body designed to think logically, analyse, plan, compare, and evaluate. It is deliberate, structured, and slow. It belongs to the physical body, the brain matter that functions like a powerful computer, able to process data and make sense of the material world. This intellect helps us build careers, solve problems, and organise life in a predictable way. But as powerful as it is, it is limited, because it can only work with what it can see, measure, and remember.

Intuition, however, comes from a deeper place. It is the whisper of the spirit within us, expressing itself through the small brain, the cerebellum which silently coordinates more than our movements. It processes impressions, patterns, signals, and guidance that do not come from the five senses. Intuition knows before intellect understands. It sees the whole picture at once rather than assembling the pieces. It is swifter, cleaner, and wiser. It is the voice that nudges, warns, inspires, or comforts, often without explanation.

Where intellect obeys logic, intuition obeys truth.

Where intellect argues, intuition unveils.

Where intellect looks outward, intuition looks inward.

Because our true core is spirit, intuition is the natural leader. When intuition leads and intellect follows, life flows with clarity and direction. But when intellect tries to take over, insisting on evidence for everything, drowning intuition with noise, our inner compass becomes confused. We overthink situations that intuition had already resolved. We analyse relationships intuition had already exposed. We cling to plans intuition had already warned us against. We become mentally busy but spiritually blind.

The two brains were never designed to compete. They were made to harmonise. Intuition gives the direction; intellect executes the plan. Intuition points to the path; intellect builds the steps. Intuition receives inspiration; intellect organises it into action. When this partnership is balanced, we do not merely think, we know. We do not merely work, we flow. We make decisions that feel right, not just appear right. We move through life with an inner confidence that does not come from facts but from alignment.

To access this harmony, we must learn to quiet the intellect long enough for intuition to speak. The spirit speaks softly; the brain speaks loudly. The spirit knows; the brain tries to figure out. When we slow down, breathe, listen, and honour the first gentle nudge that rises from within, we allow the deeper wisdom of our spirit to take its rightful place as guide. The intellect should serve intuition, not silence it.

In the end, the mind becomes whole only when the spiritual and the physical work as one. The intellect is the brilliant tool of the body, but intuition is the voice of the eternal. When we let the spiritual lead, our decisions carry a purity that intellect alone cannot produce. Our paths unfold with less struggle and more certainty. And life reveals itself not as a puzzle to be solved but as a journey to be understood.

The profound truth is this: the mind rises to its highest power when the spirit speaks first!

IF GOD DOES NOT INTERVENE, WHY PRAY AND SEEK HIS GUIDANCE?

 

We live in times when tragedy and violence shake the foundations of our sense of security. The recent reports of the attack in Kwara, a state in Nigeria, where worshippers were harmed even as they came to serve the Almighty in a place of worship, prompt questions many of us quietly wrestle with: If the Almighty is all-powerful, why does He not intervene? If He does not interfere directly in the daily affairs of men, then why do we need Him at all? And finally, is there still a reason to pray?

These questions are not new. Humanity has long wrestled with the seeming silence of the Divine in the face of suffering. Wars, disasters, injustices, and personal misfortunes often lead us to cry out, “Where is justice? Where is God’s love?” It is easy to interpret God’s seeming silence as absence or indifference, yet this perspective reflects more on our limited view than on the reality of Divine Activity.

God’s Love and Justice extend far beyond what our eyes can see or our minds can grasp. Unlike human love, which is often conditional and bound by circumstance, Divine Love and Justice are inseparable, rigorous, yet compassionate. They concern themselves with the human spirit, not with the fleeting concerns of our earthly life. The suffering, pain, and misfortune we witness are often the visible ripples of vast, intricate laws that govern existence, laws we perceive only in part.

To truly understand, we must free ourselves from the habit of measuring by earthly standards. God’s Justice and Love are aimed at the spirit, not material things. The world around us, its wealth, its possessions, its apparent successes and failures holds no power apart from the spirit that shapes it. In this light, our earthly troubles are not evidence of neglect from above, but part of a far greater, perfectly balanced order, in which every spirit is nurtured, tested, and guided toward growth.

One of these fundamental principles is the Law of Reciprocal Action, the universal law of cause and effect. Simply put: what a man sows, he shall reap. Every action, thought, and intention sets threads into motion that ripple throughout the universe. These threads bind us to the consequences of our choices, not arbitrarily, not by chance, but as a natural unfolding of the Laws embedded in Creation. This perspective explains why bad things sometimes happen to ostensibly good people: life on earth is but a temporary stage. The true, real life takes place in the spiritual realm, which knows neither time nor space, and therefore no separation. The effects of past actions, reciprocal consequences, return to their origin according to the Eternal Law. Nothing is lost; everything is bound to come.

Our physical bodies play no part in this spiritual reckoning; they are instruments, chosen or provided according to Cosmic Laws. The current earth-life is brief in the context of our eternal existence. The suffering of the “good” is often a consequence of prior actions, yet even here, hope exist. Through the power of good volition, the conscious striving for goodness and integrity we form a protective circle around ourselves, capable of mitigating or even neutralising the evil effects that may descend upon us. This protective power is strengthened by silence, reflection, and prayer.

From this view, God does not need to intervene in every earthly event, because the system He has established functions with perfect precision. Wars, misfortunes, and tragedies are not signs of Divine neglect; they are the inevitable outcomes of free will, past actions, and universal laws. Humanity’s task is not to demand that God act according to our limited expectations, but to align ourselves with the principles of Creation through conscious, virtuous action.

Prayer, then, is not an appeal for divine interference in our narrow desires. It is a tool for tuning our spirit to the higher laws, for harmonising our inner being with the order of the universe. Through focused intention, reflection, and a steadfast volition for good, prayer strengthens our spiritual covering, enhancing our capacity to radiate positive influence into the world. Even when destructive forces seem to threaten us, they interact only with our spiritual state. A refined, conscious spirit nurtured by prayer and good action cannot be wholly harmed by these currents.

The call is clear: we are invited not to passively wait for intervention, but to participate actively in life’s unfolding, with awareness, responsibility, and faith. God’s justice and love operate continuously and unwaveringly. Our duty is to harmonise our actions with these eternal principles, to sow wisely, and to seek alignment with the Divine through prayer and conscious intention.

Every moment presents a choice: to despair, or to act consciously, sow wisely, and pray with intent to be empowered to do good. The Creator has set the laws of life in motion; it is for us to cooperate with them with courage, clarity, and devotion. Prayer is the instrument that refines our spirit, guides our actions, and draws us closer to the eternal harmony underpinning all existence.

WHERE DOES PARENTAL DUTY END AND A CHILD’S RESPONSIBILITY BEGIN?

This question may appear simple at first, yet the moment we look closely, it opens a deeper, richer, and far more empowering understanding for both parents and children. Many people grow up believing, “My parents brought me here, so they owe me everything.” We often hear statements such as, “It’s not my fault I’m here” or “They must take care of me because they gave birth to me.” On the other hand, many parents are saying, “I brought you into the world, so your life is my responsibility forever.” Both views, although common, can quietly imprison rather than liberate.

A clearer and more liberating truth emerges when we reflect with calmness: no soul arrives on earth by accident or force. Every human being comes into this world either through their own longing or as part of their own journey of learning. Parents simply provide the physical doorway, the body through which an already-existing soul may enter earthly life. In this sense, every child is a guest, a full and independent personality who comes with their own history, strengths, challenges, and destiny. Parents offer the home, the shelter, the love, and the early protection needed for that soul to grow in its earthly form until the child can provide its earthy necessities independently. Everything beyond that is a generous gift. There is no question of  lifelong debt.

This understanding does not weaken the healthy bond between parent and child; it deepens it. It removes the heavy weight of ownership and replaces it with gratitude, respect, and purpose. A child, when they recognise this truth, begin to see life not as something that was imposed upon them, but as a rare and precious opportunity. Instead of saying, “My parents owe me,” a higher thought arises: “I have been given an opportunity to live: what will I make of it?” Such a realisation awakens responsibility, courage, and independence.

At the same time, parents still carry sacred duties. By choosing to bring forth a body, they assume the responsibility of caring for that body, guiding it, nurturing it, and supporting it until the child matures and can stand on their own feet. This duty is profound. Yet once that stage has been reached, it becomes unhealthy for parents to cling to control or to feel eternally responsible for every choice their adult children make. In the same way, it becomes limiting for children to continue leaning on their parents or holding entitlement in their hearts. Growth requires independence, and love flourishes best when it is voluntary, not demanded.

Sadly, many cultures including ours have built long-standing habits of dependency, entitlement, and unwritten obligations among both parents and children. These traditions may appear harmless, but in reality they stifle growth, distort relationships, and prevent individuals from becoming truly free. When we pause to examine them honestly, we often find they produce subtle resentment rather than unity. It is only through understanding the deeper spiritual nature of life that we can break these chains and allow genuine love, respect, and responsibility to take root.

When parents recognise that they provided only the physical gateway, and children understand that they came with their own destiny, the relationship between both sides becomes far richer. It becomes a healthy bond of freedom, appreciation, and mutual respect rather than rigid obligation. Parents can guide without interfering, and children can love without demanding. And together, they can help one another grow in strength, wisdom, and joy.

May we all take a moment to reflect on these with openness and sincerity. In doing so, we may discover a healthier, happier way to honour the sacred journey between parent and child, one built not on claims or blame, but on gratitude, clarity, and a deep sense of responsibility for the life each of us has been given.

IF EVERY BIRTH IS A BLESSING, HOW DO WE EXPLAIN LIVES THAT BRING PAIN?

A thoughtful reader recently asked a question that echoes through many hearts: “If every birth is a blessing, was the birth of Adolf Hitler a blessing?”

It is a question born not of cynicism, but of genuine struggle. Because when we look at the immense suffering, destruction, and moral darkness linked to certain individuals in history, we instinctively recoil. How can such a life be counted as a blessing?

But this question arises only when we confuse birth with subsequent behaviour, and or start with outcome.

Birth is a blessing because it represents the Creator’s gift of opportunity, the opportunity to rise, to grow, to correct, to serve and to uplift. It is the divine opening of a door. What a person then chooses to do after stepping through that door is a different matter entirely.

No birth guarantees goodness; it guarantees possibility, it grants immense opportunities.

And each birth, which grants us the opportunity to redeem past errors, to develop, to mature, and to ascend spiritually, is always a blessing.

We must not assume that the most troubling historical figures came into the world as embodiments of evil. They arrived as souls endowed with free will, responsibility, and the capacity to choose their path. The tragedy of Adolf Hitler lies not in his birth, but in what he freely chose to become.

And we may further note that even when a child enters the world with certain negative propensities, birth still offers the opportunity to reflect, to correct, and to strive toward a better path.

Every seed has potential for fruit, but the cultivation, climate, decisions, and ultimate direction determine what emerges. A birth grants only the soil and the opportunity; the life reveals the choices.

We must also remember:

Challenging lives often compel humanity to confront truths we would otherwise avoid.

History’s darkest figures have, paradoxically, forced moral clarity upon the world. Through the devastation they unleashed, nations awakened to the dangers of hatred, arrogance, racial supremacy agendas, and unchecked power. Humanity learned painful lessons about vigilance, conscience, compassion, and the sacredness of human dignity.

This does not excuse the wrong, but it reveals that even great darkness can provoke great awakening.

To label any birth as a curse is to suggest that Creation miscalculates. But Divine Wisdom which rules in Creation does not err. Each soul is placed into conditions that match what it must learn, and what humanity must learn through it. The burden is on the individual to respond to that opportunity with nobility rather than destructiveness.

Birth offers grace; life reveals responsibility.

Hitler’s life shows what happens when ego, resentment, hatred, and ambition seize the wheel. It is a warning etched into history, urging every generation to guard the inner landscape of thought, feeling, and motive. In this way, even such a tragic life becomes a stern teacher for the world.

So, was his birth a blessing?

The birth, yes because every birth is a divine grace, a moment when immense possibilities are entrusted to a soul.

As for the life that unfolded afterward, it is not for us to render a final verdict. What we can say is that the choices he made brought immense suffering, even as humanity was forced through deep pain to confront truths it might otherwise have ignored. In this way, the blessing offered at birth was not expressed in noble deeds but became, through tragic misuse, a stern lesson for the world.

And yet, even from such a difficult life, humanity gained painful but necessary clarity about conscience, power, hatred, and the sacred need to guard the dignity of every human being.

And that is precisely why we must cherish our own lives with deeper seriousness. For each of us holds the same freedom: to build or to break, to uplift or to wound, to sow love or to sow pain.

As long as we are alive, the blessing of birth continues.

And the question placed before each soul remains the same:

What will you do, or what are you presently doing with the gift you have been given?

May our choices turn every gift into a force that matters, leaving the world richer for our having been here.

POPULATION OR PROSPERITY: WHAT DRIVES A NATION’S GROWTH?

 

 

One of the quiet wonders of our world is the way different societies expand not just in wealth, but in people. Travel across nations and you will notice a fascinating contrast: the more a country advances in knowledge, technology, education, and opportunity, the fewer children its families tend to have. And in lands where life is simpler, incomes are lower, and communities remain closer to their traditional roots, families often grow in joyful abundance. At first glance, some find this strange. But look deeper and you will see an elegant pattern revealing itself; one that says much about human aspiration, security, fear, love, and the way societies evolve.

In poorer, rural, or agrarian nations, children are woven into the very fabric of economic life. They are blessings, yes, but they are also helping hands. A child can till the soil, assist in trade, run errands and help raise younger ones. In such societies, a large family is not a burden; it is security, labour force, lineage, and legacy. The cost of raising a child is modest, the expectations simple, and life’s demands do not punish family size. In these contexts, more children literally mean more strength, more voices in the compound, more hands in the field, more hearts bound in loyalty.

But move into industrialised societies and the picture shifts dramatically. The child becomes not a contributor to economic survival but a precious, high-investment project. Education is expensive, healthcare elaborate, lifestyles demanding. Homes shrink as cities expand. Every additional child requires time, attention, resources, and emotional energy. In these environments, children cost more, not in affection, but in the currency of modern life. And so families choose fewer, so they can give each one more.

Then there is the profound influence of education. As societies advance, women gain greater access to schooling, careers, autonomy, and choice. With knowledge comes widened horizons; with opportunity comes the freedom to decide when and how to build a family. And with that freedom naturally comes delayed marriage, later childbirth, and smaller family sizes. This is not a rejection of motherhood; it is a rebalancing of identity. The modern woman seeks to be fulfilled in all dimensions of her being: intellectual, professional, emotional, and maternal. And in that balancing act, time becomes the decisive element.

Another force quietly shaping populations is security, particularly old-age security. In wealthy nations, people rely on social systems, pensions, health insurance, and structured welfare. But in poorer societies, the children are the pension. The children are the insurance. The children are the promised comfort of old age. It is no surprise then that families seek safety in numbers. Where institutions are weak, the family becomes the institution.

Yet, beneath all these factors lies a deeper truth: human beings are always responding to their environment. In societies where uncertainty, fragility, and risk loom large, the instinct is to fill the home with life. In societies where the future feels controlled, predictable, and structured, that instinct relaxes. People choose smaller families because the world around them feels stable enough to permit it.

So the contrast persists, not because one path is better or worse, but because each society is answering the same question in different ways: What do we need to feel safe, fulfilled, and hopeful about tomorrow? In some places, that answer is wealth. In others, it is children. In many, it is a mix of both.

But the wisdom for each of us is this: every society grows according to what it values most. Some grow in numbers; others grow in knowledge. Some build security through family; others through institutions. And in the end, population patterns are simply mirrors showing what each nation fears, cherishes, and aspires to.

May this understanding remind us that development is far more than highways, factories, or shifting birth rates. Development is the story of a people discovering what they need to truly thrive and adjusting their choices with wisdom. Every nation, in its own rhythm, is striving to build a future where its children, whether many or few, can stand taller than those before them. And whatever population path we take, one truth must guide us: real development is both material and spiritual, progress of the land, and elevation of the soul!

THE SILENT WAR WITHIN: Overcoming Self-Doubt Through the Knowledge of Who We Truly Are

 

There is a quiet struggle that countless people endure; one that does not show on the face, yet eats deeply into the heart. It is the struggle of self-doubt. That persistent questioning of one’s worth, one’s choices, one’s memories, even one’s goodness. For some, this doubt comes from difficult experiences. For others, it arises from conditions of the mind that send intrusive thoughts and false signals. But whether mild or overwhelming, self-doubt has a single aim: to disconnect us from the truth of who we really are.

To overcome self-doubt, we must begin with the deepest truth: we are not our fears. We are not the noise that occasionally erupts in the brain. At our core, we are spirit, clear, luminous, steady. The disturbances that pass through the mind are no more our true essence than clouds are the sky.

But because many do not know this, they accept every troubling thought as a verdict on themselves. They mistake every mental interruption as a reflection of their character. They believe the fear, instead of the quiet knowing beneath it.

Self-doubt thrives wherever self-knowledge is weak. It loses power the moment a person begins to recognise, “This is not me. This is only a passing wave.” The spirit, our true being, does not doubt itself. It is connected to the Power of Creation, which operates with clarity, purpose, and certainty. Doubt belongs to the intellect, which is easily overstimulated and overwhelmed.

When a person begins to understand this distinction, something beautiful happens: a space opens up inside them, a space wide enough to breathe, to separate what is true from what merely feels true.

And in that space, strength quietly returns.

One of the most liberating steps in healing self-doubt is learning to observe thoughts without bowing to them. A troubling thought may arise, but you are under no obligation to accept it. You can let it pass like a bird flying across your sky. It is the spirit through intuition that recognises truth. Not the anxious earthly mind.

Silence helps us hear this intuition more clearly. Nature helps us remember who we are. Reflecting on eternal truth refines our inner compass. Little by little, the fog lifts.

Another secret is this: You do not overcome self-doubt by fighting it, but by strengthening what is true within you. The more you nourish clarity, the weaker falsehood becomes. The more you act in sincerity, the more courage grows. The more you live simply, honestly, thoughtfully, the more your spirit expands and doubt cannot cling to an expanding soul.

For some, self-doubt is intensified by chemical or neurological patterns. This does not make them weak or flawed. It simply means the instrument of the brain momentarily loses its natural harmony. But even here, the spirit remains untouched. A person’s true essence is not defined by these interruptions. Knowing this truth is already a form of healing.

Self-doubt loses its sting when we stop judging ourselves by the disturbances that rise and fall within us.

You are not the doubt.

You are the one who perceives the doubt.

You are not the storm.

You are the sky in which the storm rises and eventually passes.

The doubt may arise within you, but it does not define you.

You formed the thought, and you also have the power to form better, truer, stronger thoughts.

The more we cultivate an inner life of integrity and good thoughts, the more we turn toward truth, purity, gratitude, and quiet reflection-the more we live from our spirit. And from that place, confidence grows naturally. Not arrogance, not noise, but a quiet, steady certainty rooted in alignment with the laws of Creation.

So if you struggle with self-doubt, let this be your reminder: You are far more than the thoughts that trouble you. You are spirit. You are capable of clarity, strength, renewal, and ascent. Your task is simply to return again and again to the truth of who you are.

Every time you choose courage over fear, truth over confusion, and stillness over turmoil, your inner light shines a little brighter.

And with time, that light becomes strong enough to guide your entire life.

ARE WE SPIRITUALLY AWAKE? READING THE WARNINGS IN OUR WORLD

 

 

Have we become so comfortable, so preoccupied with our routines, that we no longer see the signs around us? The earth speaks in storms, floods, heatwaves, economic tremors, and social upheavals, yet too many respond with the familiar reassurance: “It’s always been this way.” This is a comforting illusion, but it is dangerously incomplete. The truth is that our world is speaking, and it is speaking louder than ever before. These are not mere repetitions of history, they are warnings, intensifying, interconnected, and impossible to ignore for those willing to pay attention.

Humanity has survived wars, famines, plagues, and oppression. In the past, catastrophes arrived intermittently, separated by time and distance, allowing societies to absorb and learn from them. Today, crises cascade without pause. Natural disasters, financial shocks, health emergencies, and social unrest do not occur in isolation, they arrive in relentless succession. The opportunity for reflection and course correction is unprecedented, yet so many choose to turn away, clinging to comfort and the familiar, dismissing the warnings as exaggeration or coincidence.

This refusal to see is not harmless. It is spiritual deafness. To ignore the suffering of others because we ourselves are comfortable, to minimize disruption because it does not yet touch us personally, is a moral and spiritual failing. These extraordinary events are invitations to pause, to look inward, and to recalibrate our lives in alignment with the higher principles that sustain humanity. They are a call not merely to fear, but to sober reflection, responsible action, and ethical living.

The turbulence we witness is not punishment; it is purification. It is a cosmic process, a reckoning that shakes humanity from complacency and offers the chance to emerge renewed. Those who respond with insight, courage, and humility will find the world ahead not solely chaotic, but rich with opportunity for restoration, clarity, and enduring progress. Those who choose ignorance, convenience, or cynicism will find only disorientation and lost potential.

Do not be deceived by familiarity. The past may have known calamity, but the present demands something greater of us: awareness, introspection, and action. It is a call to realign with principles of responsibility, humility, and care for one another, to embrace the renewal already underway. Sober reflection is not optional; it is essential. The signs are here. The choice is ours, to remain asleep or to awaken and navigate the coming age with wisdom, courage, and a spirit attuned to the lessons the world urgently seeks to teach.

THE GRACE OF BEING BORN

Birth is one of the most extraordinary mysteries of existence. It is the quiet entry of a soul into a new chapter of its long journey. An act not of randomness, but of divine grace. And today, as I mark another year of my own earthly journey, my heart is drawn not to celebration of self, but to deep thanksgiving. Thanksgiving for the privilege of being permitted to begin… and to begin again.

There is a truth we often overlook: every birth is a blessing, not only to the child, but to parents, siblings, and all who will encounter that life. It is a fresh opportunity for growth, redemption, and ascent. A pure act of mercy from the Creator, who grants each soul another chance to unfold, to mature, to correct what needs correction, and to rise closer to the light.

This is why I celebrate today not as “my day,” but as a reminder of the grace that allowed me to enter this physical world at all. Long before any of us opened our eyes here, we already existed. We carried threads, choices, longings, lessons. And then came that sacred moment, a moment arranged with absolute justice, perfect timing, and infinite love, when the door into earth opened for us.

Birth is not the beginning of life; it is the beginning of a new assignment.

A fresh classroom.

A new field of sowing and reaping.

Another stretch along the road of becoming what we are destined to be.

Many people question why some are born into abundance and others into lack, some into health and others into frailty. But the deeper wisdom is this: birth places each soul exactly where it can learn, redeem, balance, and advance. It is not injustice, it is precision. A mercy tailored with exquisite accuracy.

And here lies the real miracle:

Whether the conditions appear favourable or difficult, every birth carries a blessing.

Because every birth offers the chance to grow.

To begin anew.

To step upward.

Children bless parents, even through the demands, the sleepless nights, the challenges, the worries. In caring for another life, the parents’ own souls are refined. Their patience stretched. Their empathy deepened. Their hearts awakened. Sometimes, even the pain of nursing a child through illness becomes a form of redemption, softening the personal burdens carried from former deeds. Nothing is wasted.

And the child, too, is blessed. Every incarnation is an opportunity to step forward in strength, clarity, and maturity  if he or she wills it.

So today, as I look at the gift of my life, I see not accident, not coincidence, not chance, but purpose. I see the benevolent Hand that opened the gate for me to walk through. I see the countless opportunities I have been offered to learn, to serve, to love, to grow, to give, to rise.

And I am humbled.

My message to you, my dear readers, is simple:

Cherish your birth. Honour your existence. Embrace your journey.

Your life with everything in it was permitted because you have something to fulfil, something to release, something to uplift, something to become.

Every birthday is a reminder that we are still being given time.

Time to sow better seeds.

Time to shed what no longer serves us.

Time to strengthen what is noble within us.

Time to rise higher than yesterday.

So today, I bow in thanks for the gift of being born.

And I invite you to reflect on your own birth, not as a date on the calendar, but as a divine affirmation of purpose. A sacred opportunity.

May we walk worthy of that gift.

THE LAST SECRETS IN CREATION

 

We often think of secrets as hidden knowledge or puzzles to solve. But the last secrets in Creation are different. They are not something to read and memorise. They are a system to engage with, a living, radiant network that surrounds and supports all of life, open to anyone willing to pay attention.

Imagine everything, every person, plant, stone as a broadcasting station, sending out its own unique vibration. These auras interweave to form a vast cosmic network. This network is the secret itself. The real mastery isn’t just knowing it exists, it is learning to connect with it, to receive from it, and to use it for healing, clarity, and growth.

How do we do this? It is surprisingly simple. Think of it like tuning a radio. Your spirit is the receiver. When you cultivate peace, kindness, and humility, you “tune” yourself to higher, beneficial frequencies. This is the true Power of Attraction. It explains why acts of love, quiet reflection, or even simple magnetic healing work; they align your own energy with the flow of Creation.

This knowledge is the key to the old arts. Herbal healing becomes more than chemistry; it is the matching of a plant’s harmonious radiation to a sickness in the body. Astrology is not fatalism, but reading the grand patterns of cosmic radiation that influence our world. By choosing peace over chaos, generosity over selfishness, and focus over distraction, we naturally plug into this cosmic support. The “step-ladder of spiritual ascent” is simply this: by consciously tuning your character towards goodness and humility, you attract and absorb higher powers that lift you up. Indeed the Creation Law of Spiritual Gravity carries you aloft! 

The ultimate secret is this: help flows through Creation, always present, always ready. Align your heart and mind, and you tap into Creation Power that heals, guides, and elevates you, lifting you step by step toward your spiritual ascent!

WHEN INNER CORE AND OUTER FORM NO LONGER ALIGN

 

Some human souls walk the earth whose inner essence and outward form no longer harmonise. These are distorted souls, beings whose inner core and physical expression have diverged.

Every soul, on its first conscious journey into the world, is granted a sacred freedom: to choose the path of womanhood or manhood. This choice shapes the soul’s inner nature and guides its spiritual development. Yet along the journey, some souls turn away from faithfulness to that chosen path. A womanly soul may begin to emulate the ways of a man, or a manly soul may deny the strength and dignity of true manhood, drifting into effeminacy. Such choices create inner disharmony.

The consequence is serious. A soul that strays from its chosen inner essence loses the natural alignment between its inner being and the body it should rightly inhabit. On returning for another life on earth, it may find itself clothed in a form that does not match its core-a womanly spirit in a male body, or a manly spirit in a female body.

Importantly, this outer misalignment does not change the soul’s true nature. The inner core remains what it chose to be initially, either female or male, even as the outer “garment” reflects confusion and imbalance.

Yet this experience is not punishment; it is lesson and mercy. It is an invitation for the soul to rediscover harmony, to strive with humility and faithfulness toward its original essence. Through sincere effort, the soul may one day regain its rightful alignment, living once again in truth with the form and essence it was meant to embody from the beginning.

In essence, distorted souls are not lost, they are learning. Their journey tells us that missteps are part of growth, and even in distortion lies the opportunity for redemption, self-realisation, and the reclamation of inner harmony.

WHERE WE COME FROM, WHERE WE GO

 

It’s one of the earliest and most profound questions every child asks: “Where do babies come from?” And one of the oldest that every adult eventually whispers in grief or wonder: “Where do the dead go?” Between these two questions lies the full mystery of human existence: birth and death, arrival and departure, beginning and end. 

Science explains that babies come from the union of two cells, a sperm and an egg, a biological miracle that multiplies into a living being. Yet every parent who has held a newborn knows there’s something deeper than biology at work. No laboratory can fully explain the spark that animates that tiny body, the invisible breath that turns flesh into life. Life does not merely begin; it appears. Each appearance is unique and sacred. We call it birth, but it can also be seen as an arrival, as though each soul journeys from a realm we cannot see, choosing a moment, a place, and a pair of arms to welcome it into the visible world. 

Children, in their innocence, seem to know this. They come in wide-eyed wonder as if they’ve just left somewhere pure, still carrying traces of eternity in their laughter. 

And then, one day, every life faces the other mystery; departure. The body returns to dust; that much we know. But the spirit, the consciousness that smiled, dreamed, forgave, and loved, where does that go? 

Across time, people have sought answers. Some speak of heaven, others of reincarnation or reunion with ancestors. Some believe the soul dissolves into the great cosmic energy. Yet beyond these beliefs lies an intuition that love and spirit cannot simply vanish. The presence of someone we’ve loved lingers in memory, in dreams, in the unexplainable moments when their absence feels strangely like presence. Death, then, may not be an ending, but a return perhaps to the same unseen realm from which we first came. 

What if life is not a straight line from cradle to grave, but a circle, a series of arrival and return? Perhaps babies come from where the dead go. It’s an idea echoed in faith and folklore alike: “dust returning to dust,” as the ancient Hebrews said; “atunwa”, the Yoruba understanding of rebirth; and even modern physics suggests that energy cannot be destroyed, only transformed. In that sense, every new-born may be a whisper from the beyond; a sign that existence continues in forms unseen. 

In our age of speed and distraction, we rarely stop to wonder anymore. We Google everything but contemplate nothing. Yet these two questions, where we come from and where we go, hold the power to make us humble, compassionate, and wise. They remind us that life is a gift; that every encounter may be part of something much larger than we can perceive; that to live fully is to honor both mysteries, welcoming each birth with reverence and facing each death with peace. 

So, where do babies come from? And where do the dead go? Perhaps from and to the same place, a realm where life continues in subtler and less dense form, beyond the limits of our senses. A place that begins in the finer regions of this vast material universe, of which our visible world is but the coarsest layer. 

This reflection does not claim to answer the questions, only to move us to deeper thought, to awaken that quiet wonder that once made us ask them in the first place. Yet, if we seek the answers in earnest, with a childlike heart unburdened by pride or fear, we may begin to find glimpses of truth in unexpected places. Between those two great mysteries, we live, we love, we learn. And in the silent moments, we remember that we too are travellers, passing through the densest edge of a greater, living continuum.

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.