Written by Nicola Owusu
It’s okay, if you don’t know your next move you just need to believe that you are gonna make it and win in life. Being still is the beauty of self discovery. In this we analyse ourselves with what we like and dislike. What is a problem to us is what we are called to correct. Whatever we love doing is something we do naturally and with ease(least effort or without second guessing).
Please, be in the company of people who share similar interest or have an aim in life. Who you are meant to be will be birthed by identifying an issue and a skill.
An issue is something that people are talking about, thinking about, an important subject or topic to you. In these we channel our time and efforts, in that is a gift and a talent hidden if you look closely.
For a example, Greta Tintin Eleonora Ernman Thunberg is a Swedish environmental activist who is internationally known for challenging world leaders to take immediate action against climate change.
The issue here is climate change her gift is Bringing the awareness by ACTIVELY protesting and this has made room for her.
A skill is the ability to do something well; expertise. “difficult work, taking great skill"
Jimi Hendrix is the most skilled and innovative guitar player of all time, and it's not particularly close. His skill has also made room for him. Play the guitar was somthing he enjoyed and became his gift world wide.
What is your issue and what is your skill. Take 15 minutes to right some skills and issues and look at the career paths related to the choice.
What Interests you tickles your fancy? What do you talk about analysis yourself, Isit music, fashion, football, religion, art, people, world corruption. What?
Okay now let’s break and talk about this more...
Can you see the picture of the careers attached?
Cool now all that means is believing.
Seeing it. Tasting it. Imaging it. Owning it. Declaring it. If not it’s just an idea and gossip.
It’s all perspective. People who sing enjoy singing and have the courage to say this is me and this is what I know. It makes me feel this and some say it makes me feel that. What moves you? Can you see these gifts impact others?
Here’s what I like, I like knowledge, I like Christianity, I like reasearch, I like socialising, like photography, I like fashion, I like music, I like movies, I like true life movies, I like Gangster movies, I like flowers/roses I like perfumes, I like clothes, I like makeup, I like jewellery, I like church, I like pastors, I like teachers, I like my friends and families I like my phone, I like working I like helping people I like paintings, I love nature, I like the beach , I like Ghana, I like Italy, I like Germany been but I know I’ll like it. I like America, I like my air pods, I like candles!, I like birthdays, I like crisps, I like the sound of birds, I like encouraging people, I like praying for people, I like helping people, I like information, I like passion, I like good work ethic people, I like money.
My own likes and interests I can say I have more than 18 the things I have or I am currently working in those fields toward those interests. If it’s to travel yeah I’ve traveled I’m literally learning, learning about people, food and different cultures you know it’s all real. I’ve worked in Retail for clothes and for jewellery and more things I have named. In conclusion it’s me and it’s for me to discover and that’s fine. It’s the journey abs how can I not be optimistic! You should to ask yourself why am I not optimistic about tomorrow. What I think is my reality so why not think I am the GOAT. Why not think I will make it and believing you will be fine. Keeping getting to know yourself and pay attention not just to what others are doing and how it’s making you feel, but how do you make you feel and how are those things edifying you.
If you can’t control it why worry about it. Please stop asking the wrong questions to yourself and ask yourself why BLOODY NOT!
About the Creator
Nicola Owusu
Self awareness is the one thing I want the world to know. Know yourself you will know others and how to accept things a lot quicker. Understand yourself this can breed compassion for others and peace in all you do.
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In a valley where silence grew like silver grass, And the mountains seemed to hold their breath, There lived a soul whose name no map could claim—Ezomindus. He was no king of armies, no lord of stone halls, But a traveler of thought, a seeker of questions, A spark that refused to bow to fear or certainty. Ezomindus was born on a night When the moon hung low, swollen with mystery, And the wind whispered secrets through the cracks of the world. The elders, wise yet fearful, said, “This child will wander paths unknown, And his thoughts may burn like fire.” The stars, however, had their own counsel: “This child will wonder, And in his wondering, awaken others.” From his first breath, he listened—not just to people, But to the heartbeat beneath the soil, The rhythm of rivers carving their patient paths, The quiet ache of shadows folding over themselves. He heard the sorrow hidden inside laughter, The longing beneath simple words, The unspoken truths between two people’s eyes. While the villages built houses of brick and pride, Ezomindus built bridges of questions. “Why does the river never hold its shape?” he asked. “Why does the flame dance even as it dies?” “Why does the heart ache for what it cannot name?” His questions were neither rude nor loud; They were gentle arrows of thought, Piercing the illusions of routine and comfort. He wandered through forests older than memory, Where trees leaned close as if to hear him think. Roots twisted like ancient riddles, Leaves shimmered with the dust of forgotten stars. “Everything changes,” the trees whispered, “Even the one who asks.” Ezomindus was not afraid of change. He feared the stillness that numbed the mind. He saw cities wrapped in golden noise, People chasing shadows of approval, Running toward mirrors that reflected only themselves. He whispered to them softly, “Your chains are not iron—they are thoughts You never dared to examine.” Some laughed. Some scowled. Some left. A few felt something stir inside, A small trembling recognition of a mind not yet free. He carried no sword, yet battled storms of doubt. He climbed mountains that seemed to pierce the sky, Where air thinned into honesty, And only the purest thoughts could survive. At the summit, there was no throne, No crown, no prize—only a mirror of ice. In that mirror, he saw himself Not as hero nor as failure, But as a river of becoming. His courage and his fear flowed together, His wounds glimmered like constellations, His mind stretched out like the horizon itself. He understood at last: To conquer the world is smaller than conquering the mind. So he descended, carrying no gold, No trophies, no scrolls of fame, Only awareness. He spoke in marketplaces, empty fields, In the hush of midnight and the blaze of noon. “Do not fear the darkness,” he said. “It is the canvas upon which your light can paint.” As years passed, Ezomindus did not grow old in spirit. His eyes remained young with curiosity, His voice tender with truth. Children gathered around him, Drawn to the way he asked questions Instead of offering answers. “What is strength?” one child asked. He smiled and replied, “Strength is choosing truth Even when lies are easier, Even when the world calls for silence.” “What is freedom?” another asked. He touched the soil, the roots, the wind. “Freedom,” he said softly, “Is seeing your own thoughts Without becoming their prisoner.” “And what is love?” they asked. He paused, feeling the wind trace his weathered face. “Love,” he said, “Is the courage to let another soul breathe, To honor their mind as you honor your own, To walk beside them without claiming their journey.” Ezomindus became a legend, Not of battles won or lands conquered, But of minds awakened. He did not build empires of stone; He built awakenings, Invisible yet eternal, A revolution of thought, quiet yet unstoppable. When his final evening came, The sky blazed in amber farewell, And the valley seemed to lean closer in sorrow. He lay beneath the same moon That had watched his first breath. Around him stood those Who had once been lost in noise, Now awake to the rhythm of their own hearts. “Master,” they whispered, “What remains when you are gone?” Ezomindus looked at them, At their trembling hope, At their eyes opening wide to their own truths. “I remain,” he said, “In every thought you dare to examine, In every fear you face with courage, In every moment you wake instead of drift asleep.” His breath faded like a candle surrendering to dawn, Yet the valley did not grow silent. It hummed with awareness, Alive with the minds he had stirred. Ezomindus was never a body— He was a question set on fire, A space between impulse and reflection, A courage to look within. He was the whisper that said: Do not live asleep. Do not fear the depths of your own mind. For the greatest journey Is not across oceans or stars— It is through the vast, uncharted realm Of your own consciousness. Long after, children would trace his steps in the forest, Listening to the trees, to the rivers, Learning to see the unseen. They carried no scrolls, no crowns, Only the seed of questioning he had planted, A spark that refused to die. And so Ezomindus lives, Not in stone or story, But in every mind that dares to pause, Every heart that dares to reflect, Every soul that refuses to sleep While the world drifts blindly onward. For life is fleeting, And the noise of the world can drown the quiet, But the mind that awakens is eternal. Ezomindus taught this: To live is to be aware, To be aware is to be free, To be free is to walk the endless path Of truth, courage, and love. And somewhere, when the wind bends the silver grass And the moon hangs low like a question, A voice stirs inside the restless heart: “Do not live asleep. Do not fear your own depths. For the greatest journey Is not across oceans or stars— It is through the vast, uncharted Realm of your own mind.” Ezomindus is not gone— He is the question set on fire, The mind that will not sleep, The whisper inside every heart That chooses awareness over comfort, Courage over fear, Truth over illusion. And the valley, ever alive, Breathes on, Shimmering with the light of a mind awake.
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