THE LESSONS
The lessons don’t stop showing up until you get them — and lucky for me, I’m someone who wants to understand “the thing” front, back, and center.
Last week, I carved out space for myself to finally make it to a yoga class. I was set up to be on time, but somehow, I hopped on a train going in the opposite direction. I’ve gotten used to these “little mistakes,” so I didn’t freak out. I switched trains and headed the right way.
When I arrived at the next station, I had two options: walk to the studio or catch a bus headed that direction. Ironically, the bus took me a bit out of my way, and I started to feel that familiar sense of frustration creeping in. I decided to call an Uber to save time, but as we all know, Uber ETAs are just that — estimates. What started as a two-minute wait turned into seven, and the driver circled around, struggling to find my pickup spot.
That’s when I lost it.
I couldn’t stomach looking at the driver — even though I knew she was doing her best. In that moment, I caught myself pointing fingers and blaming her for making me late. By the time it was all said and done, I’d paid for the Uber, missed the class, and was charged a no-show fee.
As I looked for another class, I decided to walk. Step by step, I began to realize that I was using every possible excuse to shift blame for my own poor planning. I wanted to make that 7:30 PM class so badly, but apparently, the universe had other plans. It seemed 8:30 PM at another studio across town was what I needed.
And maybe that’s the lesson: I can’t outsource accountability. I’m the one guiding my ship. Blame might feel easier, but it never gets me closer to what I want. I still have to move through the discomfort of missed moments and trust that what I receive instead is what I actually need.
That 8:30 class turned out to be exactly what I needed. I practiced under a Black male teacher — something rare in most yoga spaces. The playlist was perfection. The flow felt intuitive and intentional, opening up spaces in my body that had been craving release. There’s something deeply comforting about being surrounded by familiarity — by people I can genuinely relate to, where I don’t have to minimize who I am or shrink myself so others can feel comfortable.
The “race conversation” is exhausting, but I still believe it’s essential, as it’s something that has become a responsibility to me as it is and has been my lived experience. Until we all understand the reality and the impact it’s had — and continues to have — we can’t pretend we’re beyond it. Yes, we all have autonomy. Yes, we all have choices. But I’ve never been comfortable with the idea of “making it” to these tables just to look down on those still trying to find a seat.
To me, community and relationships are only as strong as their weakest link. It’s hard to move forward in life knowing there are still people who need us — who need to know that someone sees them.
I don’t believe I’ll change the world entirely. But I do believe I’m being prepared to inspire those who will.
I’ve been incredibly fortunate in this lifetime to be seen — to have a variety of people notice me and support my desires. Still, I have to remind myself often that while this journey is deeply personal, my mission has always been bigger than me. The real work is finding balance — between walking my own path and leading by example, showing others that there is space for them too. It’s a reminder of how important it is to stay rooted in authenticity, even as we grow, evolve, and learn to integrate with one another.
*Originally written on August 7th, 2025 — shared now as a reminder that divine timing is always on time. What’s meant for you will wait until you’re ready to receive it.
