Quote of the Day – 09072025


Personal Reflection:
Deliberate doesn’t mean reckless. It means I’ve counted the cost, felt the fear chewing at my edges, and moved anyway. Too often we wait for bravery to arrive like a clean shirt—we want to be fresh, unshaken, presentable. But courage is never neat. It’s raw, jagged, stitched together with trembling hands. To be deliberate is to move with intention even when your knees want to buckle. Afraid or not, you step. That’s the whole point.


Reflective Prompt:
Where in your life do you need to stop waiting for fear to leave before you act, and instead choose to move with intention through it?

Quote of the Day – 07272025


Personal Reflection

Fear has always been there for me — not loud, not always sharp, but persistent. Like background static I’ve mistaken for intuition. And for a long time, I measured my strength by how little I felt that fear.

But Audre Lorde doesn’t tell us to wait for fear to leave.
She tells us to anchor ourselves in vision — to shift the focus from what frightens us to what drives us. That’s a harder, quieter kind of strength. One that doesn’t need applause.

When I think about my own vision — the one that’s just under the surface, waiting for me to commit — I realize it’s never fear that’s stopped me. It’s the belief that my fear disqualified me. That strength had to feel like certainty.

But Lorde redefines it:
Power isn’t the absence of fear.
It’s the decision to act in spite of it.
To speak when silence would be safer.
To create even when the world shrugs.
To dare — not because we aren’t afraid—but because something deeper won’t let us retreat.

And that’s the moment fear becomes irrelevant.
Not gone. Just… quieter.


Reflective Prompt

What vision is waiting for you to stop asking for permission and start acting with conviction?

Quote of the Day – 07112025


I used to think silence was strength.
Sometimes it is.
Other times, you’ve got to speak. Move. Act.

I believed swallowing pain made me resilient—
It works… maybe a quarter of the time.

If I kept my head down, kept the peace, didn’t stir the water,
I thought I’d stay afloat.
How’s that working for you?

Because all that silence did
was weigh me down in rooms that never saw me,
around people who never asked.

And it left me—
frustrated,
unappreciated,
and downright pissed.

Reflective Prompt

You’ve bitten your tongue so long it forgot how to speak.
Swallowed your fury to keep the peace.
Nodded when you should’ve screamed.

But silence doesn’t save you.
It just delays the moment of reckoning.

What are you afraid will happen if you speak the truth aloud?
And more importantly—
what will happen to you if you don’t?