Àgbò tó tàdí mẹ́yìn, agbára ló lọ mú wá " The ram that reverses, has gone to bring power.

I read this in a newsletter I am subscribed to, and it has become a better way to look at my birthday. It is a line by David Bowie…

“Aging is an extraordinary process whereby you become the person you always should have been.”

At twenty-ate, I am still in the early stage of the journey to becoming the woman I had the privilege of seeing in visions; I am closer than I’ve ever been.

Another line from that same newsletter that aligns deeply with my church’s theme for the year.

“You often look behind, just before you look inevitable.”

This line relates to any one who has felt as though they weren’t made for these times.

In a world that searches for and celebrates novelty and innovation, an era that celebrates content over art, followers over friends, popularity over purpose, metrics over meaning, and engagement over empathy.

For old souls among us, this can be discouraging. It can leave us wondering if there is anyplace left for us. But, there is. And, there will continue to be.

Not everything that’s celebrated is honorable.

I believe this is the role the old soul play in modern times. To look behind so that humanity doesn’t get too far off the rails.

This does not mean not embracing the new or halting progression, or even holding up the train. It simply means ensuring we all know where the train is headed.

It is essential to look behind so that we do not stray too far off the rails—to ensure we all know where the train is headed. And so I am encouraged to continue being myself, even in moments where there is so much noise.

History has a way of repeating itself and so while you ignore the buzz, you often look behind, just before they look inevitable.

This year, I will…

Write in the margins. Write more blog posts, even when byte-sized content is what the world consumes. Make art with my own two hands for myself. Develop my taste. Hone my craft. Be comfortable starting. Be a novice.

Believe in love. Believe in commitment. Believe in family. Believe in friends. Believe in community. Believe in values. Believe more in God— living for an audience of One.
Be gentle with myself and others. Live abundantly. Abundance for a believer is being a fountain where others can drink from. Open doors. Keep no scores. Forgive freely. Refuse gossip. Recognize we've been taught to react, not to respond. So, teach yourself how to respond.

Read poetry. Write poetry. Live as though my life is one living, breathing poem in motion. Be a romantic. (So help me God). Anyways, I am getting married this year, so I have no choice.

Search for meaning in the madness. Question what’s widely worshipped. Push back. Fight back. Be audacious. Be comfortable in the discomfort. Embrace boredom. Do not yield to trends, fads, and popular opinions. Bite more than I can chew. I am not cutting my coat according to my size. Starting without having a full-blown plan.

Be courageous enough to make great things. Understand that greatness demands sacrifice. I came across this word “Blẽdsian”. It must be consummated in blood. Bleed for something. Live for someone greater than yourself— the audience of One.

On a final note, I am learning to recognize that creation is not still; it responds to the breath of attention. “…as far as your eyes can see.” “…more than you can think or imagine.” The world unfolds differently when observed with intention. You have the power to shift the world. There is a possibility in every moment, waiting not for control, but for communion. Not to strive or bend reality, only to be present. To stand awake before what is holy and happening now. All that is required is your presence. In being present, the moment is honored. In your attention, the ordinary becomes sacred. So give each and every moment the gift of your presence.

At first, you will look behind. But, with time, you will look inevitable.

I’m beginning to feel it now. Slowly. Faintly… Like the charcoal in the pot of a woman at her corn stand, fanning fire into memory, each motion lifting heat from silence, until the ember answers in red. I feel it in my ministry. I feel it in my call. I feel it in my art. I feel it in my career. I feel it in my church and family. I feel it in my life. I feel it.

I feel a shift coming.
I feel inevitable.

Happy birthday, Ifeoluwa.