DeliveredByEva

Episode 103: Is Your Mind Ally or Jailer?

2026-09-24T08:22:07.307-07:00

Your mind can trick you if you are not careful. How do you make sure your mind is working for you and not against you?

Is your mind ally or jailer?

A powerful way to explore this is to ask: “Is my mind helping me respond to reality, or protecting me from possibilities?”

Your mind can be both jailer and ally. The difference is often revealed by what happens when you are faced with uncertainty, discomfort, opportunity, or change.

🔒 Signs your mind is acting as your jailer

Your thoughts tend to:

Turn possibilities into certainties: “It won't work.” “They'll reject me.” “I'm too late.”

Use your past as a prediction of your future: “I've tried before, so there's no point.”

Confuse discomfort with danger: “This feels scary, therefore I shouldn't do it.”

Keep you waiting for perfect conditions: “I'll start when I have more money/confidence/time.”

Make other people's opinions louder than your own desires.

Turn mistakes into identities: “I failed” becomes “I'm a failure.”

Create elaborate reasons not to act, while making avoidance feel like wisdom.

Prefer familiar unhappiness to unfamiliar possibility.

The interesting thing is that a mental jailer doesn't necessarily sound cruel.

Sometimes it sounds reasonable.

> “I'm just being realistic.”

🗝️ Signs your mind is your ally

An allied mind doesn't necessarily make you fearless. It helps you move intelligently despite fear.

It says:

“Let's examine the evidence.”

“What can I learn from what happened?”

“I don't know yet. Let's find out.”

“This is uncomfortable, but is it actually dangerous?”

“What is the smallest action I can take?”

“I can change my mind when I learn something new.”

“A rejection is information, not a definition of me.”

“I don't need certainty before I begin.”

An ally gives you options.

A jailer gives you sentences.

Try this five-question test

When you catch yourself thinking “I can't”, write down:

1. What exactly am I afraid will happen?

Name the feared outcome.

2. What evidence supports this fear?

Separate evidence from assumptions.

3. What evidence contradicts it?

Give your mind the whole picture.

4. If fear wasn't making the decision, what would I try?

5. What is the smallest experiment I could conduct?

That last question is particularly powerful.

You don't have to leap out of the prison.

You can test the door.

Send the email.

Make the phone call.

Submit the application.

Publish the poem.

Ask the question.

Take the class.

Make the first version.

Then let reality—not fear—give you the next piece of information.

And here's the deeper distinction

A jailer asks:

> “How do I keep you safe from failure?”

An ally asks:

> “How do I help you become capable of handling whatever happens?”

That is a profound shift.

Because an allied mind doesn't promise that you won't fail, be rejected, lose money, feel embarrassed, or get disappointed.

It tells you:

“Whatever happens, we will learn, adapt and keep moving.”

And perhaps that is the real measure of a healthy relationship with your own mind:

Does your thinking make your world smaller—or does it help you navigate a larger one?

Poem: The Engine Of My Mind

2026-09-21T08:08:00.795-07:00

The Engine of My Mind

My mind is a metronome,

Ticking in rhythm,

Fueled by beats that thrum

Through veins like a bassline.

It skips the numbers—

Math eludes its grasp,

Yet bargains bloom like flowers,

A garden of clever exchanges.

It listens to the heart,

Translating whispers of feeling

Into melodies,

Into colors splashed across

the canvas of the soul,

Where the eyes linger,

Hungry for meaning.

Curiosity is its fire,

A flame that shapes ideas

Into stanzas,

Into words collected

ike seashells on a beach—

Each one singing a story

Of discovery, of wonder.

It turns pepper into love,

Spicy and burning,

And hummus into motion,

An engine of flavors

Sent by the tongue,

Smoothly ground and sticky like peanut butter.

But grief clogs the gears.

It drapes the rhythm in silence,

A terrible weight pressing

On the chest of creation.

Despair paints the colors black,

Steals the hum of curiosity,

Leaves only the echoes of what was.

Yet even in this darkness,

The mind finds a rhythm—

A slow, aching beat,

A heavy stanza that speaks

Of loss, of love,

Of the terrible beauty

Of rebuilding.

Grief becomes the fuel,

And despair, the ink.

From ashes, the mind

Will craft again.

Written by

Evalyn Wanjiru Githina

Episode 102: How to Experience Poetry: Listening and Reading Guide

2026-09-17T04:26:48.026-07:00

How to Experience Poetry: Listening and Reading Guide

Poetry isn’t just something you skim through or passively listen to. It’s a conversation, a feeling, a moment to immerse yourself in. my poetry collection, Timelines: Conversations with the Ancestors, I want to guide you on the best ways to read and listen to poetry so that every word resonates with you on a deeper level.

So, whether you’re new to poetry or a longtime lover of verse, this episode is for you.

How to Read Poetry

Reading poetry isn’t like reading a novel or an article—it’s an experience. Here are some ways to get the most out of it:

1. Read Slowly & Out Loud – Poetry has rhythm and music in its words. When you read it aloud, you hear the heartbeat of the poem. Try it. Let the words settle into the air around you.

2. Pause at Punctuation, Not the End of the Line – Unlike prose, poetry doesn’t always follow traditional sentence structure. If there’s no punctuation at the end of a line, don’t stop—carry the thought into the next line.

3. Read it More Than Once – A good poem reveals itself layer by layer. The first read is for the feel, the second for understanding, and the third for connection.

4. Visualize & Feel – Close your eyes. Let the images form in your mind. Let the emotions rise. What does the poem remind you of? What personal memories does it awaken?

5. Take Notes or Journal Your Thoughts – Poetry is personal. What speaks to you may be different from what speaks to someone else. Write down your reflections and revisit them.

How to Listen to Poetry

Poetry read aloud is a different experience altogether. Here’s how to immerse yourself in it:

1. Find a Quiet Space – Just like you’d create a vibe for listening to music, set the scene. Dim the lights, get cozy, and eliminate distractions.

2. Use Headphones for Deeper Connection – If you’re listening to poetry as an audiobook, on a podcast, or even a live reading, put on headphones. It creates intimacy, making it feel like the poet is speaking directly to you.

3. Listen Actively, Not Passively – Unlike background music, poetry requires engagement. Listen to the tone, the rhythm, the pauses. What emotions do they evoke?

4. Replay & Reflect – Sometimes, a single listen isn’t enough. Rewind, close your eyes, and let it wash over you again.

Poetry is not just something you consume it’s something you experience. It’s a moment of connection, a doorway into the soul of the writer and the reader alike.

Thank you for tuning in to Diva On A Mission. If this episode resonated with you, subscribe, share, and let’s keep this conversation going. And don’t forget to grab your copy of Timelines: Conversations with the Ancestors. I promise, it’s an experience you don’t want to miss.

Keep reading, keep listening, and keep connecting with the words that move you.

Experience Timelines with Me

Now that you know how to experience poetry, I invite you to step into Timelines: Conversations with the Ancestors, my latest poetry collection.

This collection is more than just words on a page—it’s a journey through time, memory, and legacy. It’s a conversation with those who came before us, a deep reflection on our place in history, love, culture, and self-discovery.

If you love poetry that speaks to the soul and bridges generations, Timelines is for you. You can read it. You can listen to it. But most importantly, you can feel it.

📖 My poetry collection, Timelines, is available here:

🌍 International/US purchase: https://books2read.com/u/bakGx8

🇰🇪 Kenya purchase: https://store.pesapal.com/shop/fxxfbn-divaonamissionpodcast?productCode=4e3191ee-a1e9-46cb-8d48-00a9fc892442

Peace, Thayŭ.

Poem: Three Legged Stool

2026-09-15T06:02:14.081-07:00

Three things together

Like the three-legged stool

Worn smooth over many seasons near the fire

Under shady trees

Beneath the heat of a beloved bum.

She who was named from ashes

Stood knowing how to sit with endings

Without fear

One leg for memory

One for breath

One for becoming

When a leg breaks, she does not stand

She gathers stone

Collects wood

listens as the fire remembers her hands

The shade finds her over many seasons;

calls her name

as the sun hardens her resolve

Ash is not loss

It is proof of warmth

given then received

And so she sits

Balanced by what has burned

Thatch that shelters

Seeds that dare to sprout.

Written by

Evalyn Wanjiru Githina

Episode 101: The Tree Is You

2026-09-10T05:18:59.665-07:00

The Tree Is You 🌳

Welcome back to Diva on a Mission—the podcast where we share snippets of joy to uplift, inspire and motivate, while having conversations about work, money, family, food, dance, music, history… and, apparently, today—

TREES! 🌳

Yes!

Today we are talking about trees.

But before you start wondering whether I've suddenly become a botanist, let me explain.

Yesterday, I was at CWA, and we were given a self-improvement exercise that asked us to imagine ourselves as a tree.

And I thought:

“Wait a minute… this is actually brilliant!”

Because when you really think about it, a tree is one of the most beautiful metaphors for a human being.

A tree has a past.

It has foundations.

It has a body.

It has different directions it can grow.

It has seasons.

It produces things.

It loses things.

It gets pruned.

It gets watered.

It gets sunshine.

And sometimes…

it just needs to stand there and do absolutely nothing!

And I thought—

Hmmmm.

Sounds like me!

So today, I want us to do this exercise together.

And I'm going to invite you to imagine that YOU are the tree.

Not your mother.

Not your boss.

Not your partner.

Not that toxic person you've been trying to diagnose for the last six months.

YOU.

Let's take a walk through your tree.

🌱 1. THE ROOTS — WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?

Let's start underground.

The roots represent your past.

Your childhood.

Your family.

Your culture.

Your ancestors.

Your experiences.

The people who shaped you.

The places that formed you.

The things you were taught.

And even the things you were not taught.

Some of our roots are beautiful.

Maybe you grew up surrounded by love.

Maybe someone believed in you before you knew how to believe in yourself.

Maybe your grandmother taught you resilience.

Maybe your father taught you discipline.

Maybe an auntie taught you entrepreneurship.

Maybe your community taught you generosity.

But sometimes our roots contain things we don't want to carry forward.

Fear.

Scarcity.

Shame.

Limiting beliefs.

Unresolved family patterns.

Perhaps you were told:

“You're not good enough.”

“People like us don't do those things.”

“Money doesn't grow on trees.”

“You need to be realistic.”

“You can't make a living from your creativity.”

And some of those statements became roots.

You stopped questioning them.

You simply grew around them.

But here's the beautiful thing about a tree:

You can examine your roots.

You can ask:

What did I inherit?

What served me?

What no longer serves me?

What beliefs belong to my past but don't belong in my future?

And perhaps most importantly:

What beautiful things came through my roots that I want to honour?

Because healing isn't about rejecting where you came from.

It's about deciding what you want to carry forward.

🌳 2. THE TRUNK — WHO AM I TODAY?

Now we come above the ground.

The trunk represents you.

Your identity.

Your character.

Your values.

Your physical body.

Your present self.

And I love the trunk because it has to carry everything.

The roots.

The branches.

The leaves.

The fruit.

The storms.

The birds.

The occasional child climbing it!

Everything!

And sometimes we forget that we are carrying a lot.

We expect ourselves to produce fruit while our trunk is exhausted.

We expect ourselves to be strong while we're emotionally depleted.

We expect ourselves to show up for everybody while we're not showing up for ourselves.

So ask yourself:

How strong is my trunk?

Am I grounded?

Do I know who I am?

Do I know what I stand for?

Do I know what my values are?

Or am I constantly bending because somebody else has an opinion?

Because baby…

A tree that tries to become a different tree every time the wind blows is going to have a very difficult life.

Know yourself.

Strengthen yourself.

Take care of your body.

Build your emotional resilience.

Develop your skills.

Create boundaries.

Because your branches can only be as strong as the trunk supporting them.

🌿 3. THE BRANCHES — WHERE AM I GOING?

Now we get to the branches.

The branches represent the different directions your life can take.

Career.

Business.

Relationships.

Family.

Friendships.

Creativity.

Spirituality.

Community.

Health.

Travel.

Learning.

Adventure.

You may have many branches.

And here's something fascinating:

Not every branch has to produce fruit immediately.

Some branches are still growing.

Some are young.

Some are strong.

Some need pruning.

Some have grown in a direction you never expected.

And sometimes we spend our entire lives watering one branch.

Career.

And then we look around and say:

“Why am I lonely?”

Because darling…

You forgot to water the relationship branch!

Or perhaps you've invested everything in your family branch but neglected your creativity.

Or you've built a successful business but abandoned your health.

A beautiful life requires multiple healthy branches.

Not necessarily equal branches.

But nourished ones.

🍃 4. THE LEAVES — YOUR DAILY LIFE

Leaves are interesting because they're where the tree interacts with the outside world.

For me, the leaves can represent our daily habits, behaviours and experiences.

The little things.

What you eat.

What you read.

What you watch.

Who you talk to.

How you spend your mornings.

How you spend your evenings.

What you repeatedly think about.

Your routines.

Your conversations.

Your environment.

And here's the thing:

Leaves look small.

But collectively, they help the tree thrive.

And that's exactly how our lives work.

One meditation isn't going to transform your life.

One workout isn't going to transform your body.

One book isn't going to transform your thinking.

One brave conversation isn't going to transform your relationships.

But small things repeated?

Ohhhh, now we're talking!

Tiny leaves.

Every day.

Eventually becoming a canopy.

So ask yourself:

What am I doing every day that is helping me grow?

And…

What am I doing every day that is slowly poisoning my tree?

Because sometimes it's not one dramatic thing.

Sometimes it's the little things.

The constant complaining.

The negative self-talk.

The doom scrolling.

The comparison.

The procrastination.

The people who drain you.

The habits you keep saying you'll stop “next Monday.”

You know yourselves!

🌸 5. THE FLOWERS — YOUR POTENTIAL

Now let's talk about flowers.

Flowers are beautiful because they represent potential, creativity, beauty and possibility.

Flowers are the things that haven't necessarily become fruit yet.

An idea.

A dream.

A talent.

A new relationship.

A business concept.

A book you've been thinking about writing.

A dance you've been wanting to learn.

A trip you've been dreaming about.

A new version of yourself.

And sometimes we make the mistake of looking at a flower and saying:

“But it hasn't produced anything yet.”

Excuse me!

LET IT BLOOM!

Not everything has to immediately become money.

Not everything has to become a business.

Not everything has to become a measurable achievement.

Some things are allowed to simply be beautiful.

Some ideas need time.

Some dreams need nurturing.

Some parts of you need permission to emerge.

🍎 6. THE FRUIT — WHAT ARE YOU PRODUCING?

And then we get to the fruit.

Now THIS is where things get interesting.

Fruit represents what your life produces.

Your contribution.

Your achievements.

Your impact.

Your relationships.

Your work.

Your art.

Your business.

Your children.

Your generosity.

Your ideas.

The people you inspire.

The lives you touch.

And I want you to ask:

What fruit is growing on my tree?

And here's the uncomfortable question:

Is it fruit I actually want to produce?

Because you can be incredibly successful at producing something you never wanted.

You can become wealthy and miserable.

Successful and lonely.

Busy and unfulfilled.

Respected and exhausted.

So don't only ask:

“Am I producing?”

Ask:

“What am I producing?”

And:

“Is it nourishing?”

Because the best trees don't just produce lots of fruit.

They produce good fruit.

🍂 7. THE DEAD LEAVES — WHAT NEEDS TO GO?

Now let's talk about something we don't like very much.

Dead leaves.

Because we tend to think:

“Oh no! Something is wrong with my tree!”

But dead leaves are part of the natural cycle.

And this is one of the most powerful lessons.

Some things are supposed to fall away.

Old identities.

Old habits.

Old relationships.

Old expectations.

Old versions of ourselves.

Old dreams.

Old fears.

Old stories.

Sometimes we hold onto dead leaves because they were once beautiful.

But just because something was good for you in one season doesn't mean it belongs in the next.

And sometimes growth looks like:

letting go.

So ask yourself:

What am I holding onto that has already served its purpose?

What am I afraid to release?

What identity have I outgrown?

What relationship has become a dead leaf?

What belief needs to fall?

And then—

LET IT FALL.

Don't glue it back onto the branch!

Don't chase it around the garden!

Don't spend six months trying to resurrect it!

Let nature do what nature does.

✂️ 8. PRUNING — WHAT NEEDS TO BE CUT BACK?

And sometimes we need to go a step further.

Sometimes a branch needs pruning.

Pruning is uncomfortable.

Because pruning means saying:

“This isn't working anymore.”

Maybe you're spending too much time on something.

Maybe a relationship needs boundaries.

Maybe your business needs restructuring.

Maybe your schedule is ridiculous.

Maybe you're saying yes to everyone.

Maybe you're trying to be five people at once.

And pruning doesn't mean you're a failure.

It means you're making room for healthier growth.

A good gardener doesn't hate the tree because they prune it.

They prune it because they love the tree.

And perhaps we need to learn to prune our lives with the same compassion.

💧 9. THE WATER — WHAT IS FEEDING YOU?

Now we get to one of my favourite questions:

Where does your water come from?

Because every tree needs water.

And metaphorically, water represents the things that replenish us.

What feeds your soul?

Prayer?

Meditation?

Nature?

Music?

Dance?

Friendship?

Family?

Therapy?

Reading?

Silence?

Creativity?

Travel?

Community?

Laughter?

Food?

Rest?

And here's a very important question:

Is your water source clean?

Because if you keep watering yourself with comparison, resentment, gossip, negativity and fear…

Guess what?

That's what you're growing.

You can't constantly pour poison into the soil and then be surprised by the fruit.

So examine your water.

What are you consuming?

Who are you listening to?

What conversations are you having?

What environments are you sitting in?

What stories are you telling yourself?

Because:

What nourishes you becomes part of you.

☀️ 10. THE SUNLIGHT — WHAT GIVES YOU LIFE?

And then there's sunlight.

What gives you energy?

What makes you feel alive?

What reminds you:

“Oh! This is why I'm here!”

For some people it's creativity.

For some it's family.

For some it's serving others.

For some it's entrepreneurship.

For some it's dance.

For some it's nature.

For some it's travel.

For some it's learning.

For some it's simply waking up and having another chance.

Your tree needs sunlight.

So does your spirit.

Don't build a life where you're constantly surviving in the shade.

Find your light.

And when you find it—

turn your face toward it.

🌧️ 11. THE STORMS — WHAT HAS TESTED YOU?

And finally, let's remember:

Trees experience storms.

Wind.

Rain.

Drought.

Lightning.

People cutting branches.

Animals climbing them.

Life happens.

And sometimes we look at the broken branches of our lives and think:

“I am damaged.”

But perhaps another interpretation is:

“I survived a storm.”

Your scars are evidence of weather.

Not evidence that you are worthless.

Some of the strongest trees have the most interesting shapes because they have learned to grow around adversity.

So maybe we need to stop asking:

“Why did this happen to me?”

And sometimes ask:

“How did this shape the way I grew?”

🌳 SO… WHAT KIND OF TREE ARE YOU?

Now, my darling, I want you to pause.

Take a piece of paper.

And draw yourself as a tree.

It doesn't have to be beautiful.

Nobody is marking your artistic ability!

Draw the roots.

The trunk.

The branches.

The leaves.

The flowers.

The fruit.

The dead leaves.

And then answer these questions:

ROOTS

What shaped me?

What did I inherit?

What do I want to keep?

What do I need to heal?

TRUNK

Who am I?

What are my values?

What makes me strong?

Where do I need strengthening?

BRANCHES

Where am I growing?

What areas of my life need more attention?

LEAVES

What habits are supporting me?

Which habits are draining me?

FLOWERS

What dreams and possibilities are emerging?

FRUIT

What am I producing?

Is it nourishing?

Is it aligned with who I want to become?

DEAD LEAVES

What needs to be released?

PRUNING

What needs to be cut back?

WATER

What nourishes me?

Is my source healthy?

SUNLIGHT

What gives me joy?

What makes me feel alive?

STORMS

What have I survived?

What did those storms teach me?

🌱 AND NOW… NURTURE YOUR TREE

And this is where I want to leave you.

Imagine that every morning you wake up and ask:

“What does my tree need today?”

Maybe today it needs water.

So rest.

Maybe today it needs sunlight.

So go outside.

Maybe it needs pruning.

So say no.

Maybe it needs nourishment.

So eat well.

Maybe it needs space.

So spend some time alone.

Maybe it needs community.

Call your people.

Maybe it needs creativity.

Dance.

Write.

Paint.

Sing.

Create.

Maybe it needs to release something.

Let it go.

And maybe—

just maybe—

it doesn't need to DO anything today.

Maybe it just needs to stand.

And breathe.

Because you are not a machine.

You are a living thing.

You are growing.

You are changing.

You are becoming.

And just like a tree, your life is not measured by one season.

There are seasons of roots.

Seasons of growth.

Seasons of flowering.

Seasons of fruit.

Seasons of shedding.

Seasons of rest.

And sometimes—

seasons of starting again.

So don't judge your entire tree because you're currently experiencing winter.

Winter is not the end of the tree.

It's part of the tree.

And perhaps your job isn't to become somebody else's tree.

Perhaps your job is to become the healthiest, strongest, most magnificent version of your own tree.

So, my beautiful people…

What are you watering?

What are you growing?

What are you releasing?

And most importantly—

What kind of fruit do you want your life to produce?

This is Eva the Diva, reminding you:

Nurture your roots.

Strengthen your trunk.

Explore your branches.

Protect your leaves.

Let yourself flower.

Grow good fruit.

Release what is dead.

And never be afraid to turn toward the light.

Because baby…

YOU ARE THE TREE.

And your life?

That's the garden.

Until next time—

Keep growing.

Keep dancing.

Keep creating.

Keep becoming.

And whatever you do…

DON'T FORGET TO WATER YOURSELF! 🌳💜

@@@@

🌳 Plot twist: YOU are the tree! 😂

You can’t keep watering yourself with stress, comparison, people-pleasing and procrastination and then wonder why your fruit is looking suspicious! 😂

This week on Diva on a Mission, we’re getting into the business of nurturing our own trees—roots, branches, scars, dreams, dead leaves and all.

So grab some paper, draw your tree and ask yourself:

🌱 What needs nurturing?

✂️ What needs pruning?

🍂 What needs releasing?

🍎 And what kind of fruit do I want my life to produce?

Come grow with me. 🌳💜

Poem: Something To Hold

2026-09-08T05:59:56.064-07:00

Something to Hold

The mind in panic is a boiling pot,

thoughts rattling against the lid,

steam hissing tales of disaster,

every shadow is suddenly a prophecy.

Fear seasons the water with urgency.

It whispers, Choose now. Run now. Grab anything.

And so we find ourselves

making decisions out of desperation,

mistaking motion for direction,

mistaking noise for wisdom.

There is often death in the pot,

not always of the body,

but of patience, perspective,

and the quiet voice that knows the way home.

In that fevered state,

we leap from the frying pan into the fire,

trading one discomfort for another,

one locked gate for a narrower cage.

The old ones warned us:

haste makes waste.

Not because action is wrong,

but because fear is a poor navigator.

It reads every wave as a shipwreck,

every delay as defeat.

Yet beneath the surface commotion,

the river remembers its course.

The stars keep their appointments.

Seeds split open only when their season arrives.

When all certainty has abandoned you,

find something to hold.

A prayer.

A poem.

The rhythm of your own breath.

The hand of a trusted friend.

The memory of a promise made to yourself

on a day when your vision was clear.

Hold fast and trust the unfolding.

Not every answer arrives as a lightning strike.

Some arrive as dawn does—

slowly, persistently,

until what was hidden can finally be seen.

The current that seemed determined to drown you

may be carrying you toward a wider sea.

For there are moments when surrender is not defeat,

but alignment with a deeper wisdom.

And then, almost without noticing,

you begin to move with the water

instead of against it.

The panic loosens.

The horizon expands.

What once felt like an ending

reveals itself as a turning.

For in time,

the river gathers strength from every tributary,

and a rising tide carries all boats—

not by force,

not by frenzy,

but by the patient certainty

of becoming.

Written by Evalyn Wanjiru Githina

Episode 100: Pulling The Trigger

2026-09-07T05:31:51.411-07:00

The Compound Power of Small Decisions

There are moments in life that don't look like turning points.

They don't come with fireworks, certainty, or a voice from the heavens announcing, “This is the moment that will change everything.”

Sometimes, a turning point looks remarkably ordinary.

It looks like sending the email.

Making the phone call.

Writing the first paragraph.

Signing up for the class.

Submitting the application.

Starting the podcast.

Having the difficult conversation.

Saying yes.

Or, sometimes, saying no.

These are small decisions. But small decisions have a way of becoming the architecture of our lives.

As I celebrate the 100th episode of Diva On A Mission Podcast, I've been reflecting on just how much of our lives are shaped not by the enormous decisions we make occasionally, but by the tiny decisions we make repeatedly.

The idea that keeps knocking

Most of us have experienced that little flash of inspiration.

An idea arrives while we're driving, showering, cooking, walking or talking to someone.

"What if I tried this?"

For a moment, we can see the possibility.

And then the mind begins its familiar work:

I'm not ready.

Someone else is already doing it.

I don't have enough money.

Maybe later.

What if it doesn't work?

And the idea gets filed away.

But I've become fascinated by the people, brands and creative projects I admire. When you look closely, many of their extraordinary outcomes began with something incredibly ordinary: someone decided to take a small idea seriously.

They didn't necessarily know where it would lead.

They simply gave it somewhere to go.

They made the call.

They bought the equipment.

They wrote the first page.

They opened the account.

They made the prototype.

They published the first piece of work.

They took the first step.

And that first step created the possibility of a second one.

The compound effect of decisions

We understand compound interest when it comes to money.

A small investment, consistently made, can grow into something significant over time.

But I believe there is another kind of compounding that can change a life:

the compound effect of decisions.

One decision changes your behaviour.

That behaviour becomes a habit.

The habit develops a skill.

The skill creates competence.

Competence creates confidence.

Confidence changes what you believe is possible.

And what you believe is possible changes what you are willing to attempt.

Suddenly, a decision you barely remember making has contributed to a life you could never have predicted.

That's the beautiful thing about small decisions.

You don't always get to see their consequences immediately.

A seed doesn't look like a tree.

A first draft doesn't look like a book.

A rehearsal doesn't look like a performance.

A single podcast episode doesn't look like 100 episodes.

But the potential is already there.

You don't need the whole staircase

One of the reasons we procrastinate is that we think we need to know exactly where we're going before we begin.

We want the complete business plan.

The perfect strategy.

The guaranteed outcome.

The money.

The confidence.

The certainty.

But life rarely works that way.

Sometimes you don't get the entire staircase.

You get the next step.

And perhaps that's enough.

You don't need to know exactly how the business will evolve before you register it.

You don't need to know whether the book will become successful before you write the first chapter.

You don't need to know whether someone will say yes before you ask.

You don't need to know whether you'll succeed before you begin.

Action gives you information that thinking cannot.

You can think about swimming forever.

Eventually, you have to enter the water.

Once you're in, you discover the temperature, the current, your breathing, your strength and your fear.

Then you adjust.

You learn.

You become better.

That's what action does.

It turns uncertainty into information.

The decision isn't the destination

Of course, making a decision doesn't guarantee success.

Some ideas won't work.

Some businesses will fail.

Some applications will be rejected.

Some relationships won't survive.

Some dreams will change shape.

And that's okay.

The value of a decision isn't always in the immediate outcome.

Sometimes its greatest gift is what it teaches you.

You discover what you're capable of.

You discover what you don't want.

You develop resilience.

You learn to adapt.

You build evidence that you can trust yourself.

And that last one may be the most important.

Because confidence isn't always something you find before you act.

Sometimes confidence is something you earn by acting.

Every time you keep a promise to yourself, you strengthen your relationship with yourself.

Every time you do the thing you said you would do, you create evidence:

I can trust me.

Don't underestimate the small yes

Imagine if we stopped asking ourselves, “What is my biggest dream?”

Most of us already know our dreams.

Instead, perhaps the more useful question is:

“What is the smallest decision I can make today that moves me toward it?”

Maybe it's ten minutes of writing.

One phone call.

One application.

One conversation.

One saved dollar.

One workout.

One page.

One rehearsal.

One difficult boundary.

One act of courage.

It may feel insignificant.

But significance isn't always visible at the beginning.

A life can change direction by a few degrees and, years later, arrive somewhere completely different.

That's why I have become convinced that we should pay attention to our small decisions.

Because our future isn't created only by the moments when we make enormous choices.

It is being created quietly, every day.

One hundred episodes, one decision at a time

Reaching 100 episodes of Diva On A Mission Podcast has reminded me of this personally.

There wasn't one enormous decision that created Episode 100.

There were hundreds of small ones.

Record.

Publish.

Continue.

Try again.

Ask another question.

Tell another story.

Show up even when I wasn't sure who was listening.

One episode became another.

And another.

Until those small acts accumulated into something I could stand back and see:

100 episodes.

That's how so much of life works.

We look at the finished thing and call it success.

But success often has a much quieter beginning.

It begins when someone decides to take the next step.

So, what is your next small decision?

Perhaps there is an idea you've been carrying for months.

Perhaps you've been waiting for permission.

Perhaps you've been waiting to feel ready.

Perhaps you've been waiting for certainty.

Maybe today you don't need any of those things.

Maybe you simply need to move.

Not recklessly.

Not impulsively.

But deliberately.

With discipline.

With conviction.

With faith.

With trust in your ability to learn, adapt and begin again.

Your next chapter may not require a giant leap.

It may require one tiny act of courage.

So ask yourself:

What small decision can I make today that my future self will thank me for?

Then make it.

Pull the trigger.

Take the step.

Enter the water.

And start swimming.

Because one day, you may look around at the life you've created and realise:

It all began with an idea that once seemed very, very small.

Poem: Flame

2026-09-07T03:28:21.522-07:00

The flame effortless to light—

one spark,

and suddenly the heavens

bent to listen.

Endless rows of petitions.

goals stood like pedestals

Desire akin to holi,

satisfaction—

a warm and generous balm.

I thought this was the work.

Then came the tending.

Ash gathered faster than joy.

Smoke stung the eye

Pastoral, so confidently dreamed.

The wood refused to catch

when I needed it to.

Sometimes I blew on the embers

with the solemn desperation

of a woman saving her destiny.

Sometimes I just coughed.

The blaze wavered, slow to embark.

Desire turned into bailiwick.

Warmth demanded work.

There were no revelations then,

only damp wood,

dirty hands,

and the irritating discovery

that firewood does not arrange itself.

Still, I cupped the fragile glow,

fed it breath and broken hope,

and learned—slowly—

that patience is not always alluring.

Forbearance is waiting

beside a stubborn little flame

wondering whether it is still live.

Now the spark burns low but sure,

no longer loud,

no longer begging to be witnessed.

It does not roar.

It simply stays.

A quiet fire

that knows my name.

Written by Evalyn Wanjiru Githina

Episode 99: The Soul and the Spirit: Learning the Dance Within

2026-09-03T05:31:31.053-07:00

The Soul and the Spirit: Learning the Dance Within

What if the voice inside your head isn't the only voice worth listening to?

There is the voice of emotion.

The voice of memory.

The voice of fear.

The voice of desire.

And then there is that quieter voice—the one that seems to know something before we can explain how we know it.

Across different spiritual, religious, and philosophical traditions, people have tried to describe these dimensions of human experience using words such as soul and spirit.

There is no single definition that belongs to everyone.

But as a personal framework, the distinction can be incredibly useful.

Think of it this way:

The soul is the part of you experiencing life.

The spirit is the part of you searching for deeper meaning within that experience.

The Soul: The Human Experience

Our soul can be understood as the landscape of our inner life.

It contains our memories, emotions, thoughts, desires, personality, wounds, relationships, and stories.

It is where we experience joy.

It is where we experience heartbreak.

It is where we carry childhood memories.

It is where disappointment can become fear and where love can become hope.

The soul is wonderfully human.

And because it is human, it can become overwhelmed.

Sometimes we experience an emotion and unconsciously turn that emotion into an identity.

We don't simply say:

“I feel rejected.”

We say:

“I am unwanted.”

We don't say:

“I failed.”

We say:

“I am a failure.”

We don't say:

“I'm afraid.”

We say:

“I'm not capable.”

But an emotion is not necessarily a verdict.

Feeling something doesn't automatically make it the ultimate truth about who you are.

The Spirit: The Deeper Compass

The spirit can be understood as the dimension of ourselves associated with intuition, meaning, connection, conscience, awe, and a sense of something greater.

For one person, that may be God.

For another, the universe.

For another, nature, consciousness, ancestral wisdom, or simply a profound sense of interconnectedness.

The language may differ.

The experience may be similar.

It is that quiet sense of:

“There is more here than what I am currently seeing.”

The spirit doesn't necessarily shout.

Sometimes it whispers.

And that can make it difficult to hear.

Especially in a world filled with notifications, opinions, expectations, deadlines, and noise.

When the Soul and Spirit Disagree

Imagine you're offered an opportunity that could change your life.

Your soul says:

“What if I fail?”

Your spirit says:

“What if you don't?”

Your soul says:

“People might judge me.”

Your spirit says:

“But is their approval more important than your truth?”

Your soul says:

“I need certainty before I move.”

Your spirit says:

“Perhaps you only need enough courage for the next step.”

This doesn't mean that every intuitive feeling is automatically spiritual wisdom.

Nor does it mean every emotion should be ignored.

Quite the opposite.

The goal is to let both voices participate.

Let the Soul Speak

Being spiritual should not require us to suppress our emotions.

If you're anxious, acknowledge the anxiety.

If you're angry, acknowledge the anger.

If you're grieving, acknowledge the grief.

You don't have to cover every difficult emotion with a positive affirmation.

Sometimes healing begins with the simple sentence:

“This is what I feel right now.”

Your emotions are information.

But information is not always instruction.

You can feel afraid without allowing fear to make every decision.

You can feel angry without becoming cruel.

You can feel grief without believing you will grieve forever.

Ask the Two Questions

When you feel overwhelmed, try this simple practice.

Ask your soul:

What am I feeling?

Then:

What do I need?

Don't judge the answer.

Then ask your deeper self:

What truth am I ignoring?

These questions can reveal surprising contradictions.

Perhaps your soul needs rest, while your deeper knowing is asking you to stop hiding.

Perhaps your soul wants everyone's approval, while your deeper knowing is asking you to choose yourself.

Perhaps your soul wants certainty, while your deeper knowing is asking you to trust the next step.

The answers don't have to fight.

They can negotiate.

Move, Then Become Still

There are moments when thinking harder isn't the solution.

Your body may need to move.

Dance.

Walk.

Stretch.

Shake.

Run.

Breathe.

Then become still.

Sit quietly.

Go outside.

Listen to birds.

Watch the clouds.

Let your thoughts settle.

Movement can help us reconnect with the body.

Stillness creates space for reflection.

Together, they create a bridge between experience and awareness.

The Soul-Spirit Bridge

You can create a simple ritual without attaching it to any particular religion.

Place one hand over your heart.

Take a slow breath.

Say:

“Soul, you are allowed to feel everything.”

Pause.

Then say:

“Spirit, show me what I need to know.”

Pause again.

Finally:

“Today, I will act from both.”

That last sentence is important.

Because the goal isn't to become so spiritual that you ignore your humanity.

And it isn't to become so consumed by your emotions that you lose perspective.

It is integration.

Wisdom Has Feet

Sometimes people describe intuition as simply doing what feels right.

But intuition without discernment can become impulsiveness.

And emotion without reflection can become reactivity.

The beautiful middle ground is something else:

Truth with feet.

Something that feels meaningful but remains grounded.

Something that honours your deeper knowing while considering practical consequences.

Something that allows you to be compassionate toward yourself without abandoning responsibility.

That is where the soul and spirit can work together.

Perhaps They Were Never Meant to Compete

Maybe the soul is the traveller.

And the spirit is the compass.

The soul experiences the road.

The spirit helps us remember why we are travelling.

The soul remembers the wounds.

The spirit reminds us that we are more than our wounds.

The soul feels fear.

The spirit asks whether fear should be allowed to lead.

The soul asks, “What is happening to me?”

The spirit asks, “What is this experience teaching me?”

Perhaps the goal isn't to silence either one.

Perhaps the goal is to learn their rhythm.

To feel deeply.

To listen deeply.

To remain grounded.

And to walk through life with both feet on the earth—and some part of us still listening to the stars.

Poem: ⟁ The Seer’s Song ⟁

2026-08-24T04:32:04.741-07:00

The greatest and most famous one

prophet, healer, sage.

Sees beyond the eye’s horizon,

beyond bone, breath and age.

Speaks of people from the East,

skins pale as tree frogs’,

butterflies without color,

blood rivers shining deep.

He saw larvae weaving

through rock, swamp and time;

lepers stirring upheaval,

tribes losing their rhyme.

Whispering pains are the birth pangs

of both the good and the vile,

the world remade in agony,

the turning of the times.

The iron snake slithers

from sea to Sparrow’s sea,

a beast no spear could sever,

no machete could set free.

Upon its back ride men

with bushy heads and smoke,

their mouths full of thunder,

their promises choke.

“Swallow the words or spit them out!”

the seer cried in flame,

for truth will bare itself one day,

and none shall hide their shame.

Famine shows hollow faces,

pestilence thins the land,

fire-spitting sticks in battle,

spears useless in the hand.

He saw the mouse-striped children,

born with only holes for ears,

a rootless tribe of echoes,

deaf to their ancestors’ tears.

Harken to the bells he warned,

the Anjiru speak in vain

but they followed the lost instead,

and wandered into pain.

Lakes of sugarcane and banana,

cattle roaming where millet grew,

forests merging into one great hush,

the sleeping snake beside Ngong’s view.

It drank the sea and coiled in might,

while rulers built their huts of clay,

but none were free from the shadow’s blight,

nor blessed by what they’d gained that day.

And so he ended with a sigh

his eyes like broken dew:

Until the great fig tree shall fall,

the land will not renew.

The chains we forged in our forgetting

bind both me and you.

How shall we be free again

if we forget what once was true?

Prophesy by Cege Wa Kibiru

Poem by Evalyn Wanjiru Githina

Episode 98: The Hiding Complex

2026-08-19T05:52:53.881-07:00

I want to talk about something we all do.

Something that can look like strength.

Sometimes it looks like perfection.

Sometimes independence.

Sometimes intelligence.

Sometimes being the person who is always okay.

I want to talk about hiding.

Not hiding from other people.

Hiding from ourselves.

Because sometimes, the person we are most determined to convince...

is us.

Here's the paradox:

To hide is to protect.

But the ego can hide in an attempt to protect itself from its own perceived inadequacy, vulnerability or shame.

And the more we hide, the more convincing the hiding becomes.

Until eventually, we forget what is underneath the mask.

So today, let's explore what I call the Hiding Complex.

And perhaps, somewhere in this conversation, you'll recognize a little piece of yourself.

THE PARADOX OF HIDING

Think about this.

The ego hides to feel safe...

but hiding can actually strengthen the fear.

The ego hides to appear whole...

but hiding can split us into two people:

The person everyone sees...

and the person we privately believe ourselves to be.

And the more we hide something, the more we start believing that there must be something shameful about it.

That's the trap.

Because eventually, the thing we're protecting ourselves from isn't the truth.

It's the belief that the truth makes us unworthy.

And perhaps that's why real freedom doesn't necessarily begin with public confession.

It begins with private honesty.

You don't have to tell everyone your secrets.

You don't have to expose every wound.

You don't have to turn your life into a public testimony.

Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is simply sit with yourself and say:

"Yes. This is what I feel."

Without judgment.

Without performance.

Without running away.

FIVE WAYS THE HIDING COMPLEX SHOWS UP

Let's look at five disguises hiding can wear.

NUMBER ONE: PERFECTIONISM AS CAMOUFLAGE

You keep polishing.

You keep preparing.

You keep researching.

You keep waiting.

You tell yourself:

"It's not ready yet."

But perhaps the real fear isn't that the work isn't ready.

Perhaps you're afraid that once it's finished, people can finally see it...

and therefore see you.

Because an unfinished project can still hold infinite potential.

A finished project can be criticized.

A finished poem can be misunderstood.

A finished book can be rejected.

A finished dream can reveal its imperfections.

So sometimes perfectionism isn't really about excellence.

It's camouflage.

And the question becomes:

"Am I improving this because it genuinely needs improvement—or am I hiding behind improvement because I'm afraid of being seen?"

NUMBER TWO: INTELLECTUALIZING YOUR EMOTIONS

This one is sneaky.

Something hurts.

Instead of saying:

"I'm terrified."

You say:

"I'm experiencing a stress response."

Instead of:

"That broke my heart."

You say:

"There are interesting psychological dynamics happening here."

Now, understanding ourselves is wonderful.

But sometimes the mind turns pain into a research project because feeling the pain feels too vulnerable.

We analyze.

We categorize.

We intellectualize.

We explain.

Anything...

except feel.

Sometimes the most intelligent thing you can say is simply:

"This hurts."

NUMBER THREE: PEOPLE-PLEASING AND MIRRORING

You become whoever the room needs you to be.

You agree.

You accommodate.

You adapt.

You suppress the opinion that might cause friction.

You become so skilled at reading everyone else...

that you stop reading yourself.

And eventually you may find yourself asking:

"What do I actually want?"

Because approval can become a hiding place.

You hide yourself inside other people's expectations.

And the tragedy is that everyone may love the version of you you've constructed...

while the real you is sitting quietly somewhere inside, waiting to be invited back into the conversation.

NUMBER FOUR: HYPER-INDEPENDENCE

"I've got this."

"Don't worry about me."

"I'll handle it."

"I don't need anyone."

Sometimes independence is strength.

But sometimes independence is armor.

Because needing someone means admitting:

"I can't do everything alone."

And for some of us, that feels dangerously close to helplessness.

So we build the fortress.

We carry everything.

We refuse the helping hand.

We call exhaustion resilience.

But here's the uncomfortable truth:

Receiving can be vulnerable too.

Sometimes allowing someone to help you is not weakness.

It's trust.

NUMBER FIVE: SUBTLE SELF-SABOTAGE

This one can be particularly difficult to recognize.

Everything is going well...

and suddenly you become late.

You procrastinate.

You forget something important.

You create unnecessary chaos.

You retreat just before the opportunity arrives.

And then you can say:

"See? It wasn't meant to work."

Failure becomes an escape route.

Because if you never fully step into the opportunity, you never have to discover what happens when you are truly seen.

Sometimes we sabotage the opportunity not because we don't want it...

but because getting it would require us to become someone we haven't yet given ourselves permission to be.

SO HOW DO WE STOP HIDING?

Not by forcing ourselves to become completely exposed.

Not by telling everyone everything.

And certainly not by shaming ourselves for having defenses.

Instead, we begin gently.

ONE: PRACTICE THE FIVE-SECOND TRUTH

Once a day, say one small thing you would normally suppress.

"I'm nervous."

"I'm jealous."

"I need help."

"That hurt me."

"I don't know."

Say it before the ego has time to construct a more acceptable version.

Small truths build emotional courage.

TWO: NAME THE FEAR

When you notice yourself hiding, ask:

"What am I afraid will happen if I am seen?"

And finish the sentence:

"I am hiding because I believe..."

Maybe:

"People will think I'm incompetent."

"They'll reject me."

"I'll disappoint them."

"I'll lose control."

Once the fear has language, it becomes something you can examine.

A nameless fear can feel enormous.

A named fear can become a conversation.

THREE: PRACTICE IMPERFECT EXPOSURE

Submit the work at 80%.

Speak before you've rehearsed the perfect sentence.

Try something without knowing exactly how it will turn out.

Let yourself be a beginner.

Because sometimes your nervous system needs evidence that imperfection is survivable.

You don't need to become fearless.

You need to discover:

"I can be imperfect and still be okay."

FOUR: ASK FOR ONE SMALL THING

Ask for directions.

Ask for feedback.

Ask someone to help you carry something.

Ask for clarification.

Ask for support.

Small acts of dependence can dismantle the belief that your worth depends on doing everything alone.

FIVE: CREATE A PRIVATE SPACE FOR THE HIDDEN SELF

Write down what you don't allow yourself to say.

The jealousy.

The anger.

The fear.

The resentment.

The embarrassing thought.

The impossible dream.

The contradiction.

Write it without editing yourself.

And then, if it feels right for you, destroy the page.

Not because those thoughts are evil.

But because you're teaching yourself something important:

"I can look at what I feel without being destroyed by it."

THE COST OF HIDING

Because hiding isn't free.

It costs us.

FIRST: ENERGY

Maintaining a false front takes work.

You're constantly monitoring yourself.

How do I look?

What should I say?

Did they notice?

Did I reveal too much?

Am I still in control?

That's a lot of cognitive bandwidth.

Energy that could have gone into creating, loving, learning and living.

SECOND: CONNECTION

People can't truly connect with a version of you that never gets to exist.

If you always present the polished version...

people may admire you.

They may even love you.

But you may still feel lonely.

Because being surrounded by people isn't the same as being known.

And sometimes loneliness is the price we pay for protecting ourselves from vulnerability.

THIRD: EVOLUTION

You cannot transform what you refuse to acknowledge.

The hidden part stays frozen.

You grow professionally.

You grow financially.

You grow intellectually.

You age.

You achieve.

But somewhere inside, an old fear is still standing at the same door, asking:

"Are we safe yet?"

Growth requires us to turn toward that part.

Not to punish it.

Not to shame it.

But to say:

"I see you."

THE REAL QUESTION

So perhaps the question isn't:

"Should I stop hiding?"

Because some things deserve privacy.

Some boundaries are healthy.

Some secrets are sacred.

And vulnerability without discernment isn't necessarily courage.

The better question is:

"What am I protecting?"

And then:

"Is what I'm protecting worth the price I'm paying to keep it hidden?"

Because perhaps the goal isn't to eliminate the ego.

Perhaps it's to stop letting fear run the entire household.

To stop confusing protection with imprisonment.

To stop mistaking a mask for a face.

And to close the distance between who you are...

and who you think you're supposed to be.

So here's your Diva On A Mission question for today:

What are you hiding from yourself right now?

You don't have to tell me.

You don't have to tell anyone.

Just ask yourself.

And then listen.

Because perhaps freedom doesn't begin when everyone else finally sees you.

Perhaps freedom begins when you stop looking away from yourself.

Remember: You don't have to become someone else to be worthy of being seen.

Sometimes the mission is simply coming home to yourself.

Poem: Rhythm Of Creation

2026-08-19T03:45:20.746-07:00

Clean the table

Make space for a fable

For a new tale

Wipe your face

Get ready to create

Clear the corners of your mind,

Let old echoes fall behind,

Sweep the dust of doubt away,

Make room for what wants to stay.

Lean into the quiet hum,

Feel the rhythm gently come,

A whisper first, then something more

A pulse you’ve always felt before.

Let it travel spine to sky,

A silver thread you don’t deny,

It bends, it sways, it starts to sing,

A soft, electric, living thing.

Your hips remember ancient drums,

Your breath becomes what’s yet to come,

Each step a door, each turn a key,

Unlocking hidden memories.

Now color spills where thought once stayed,

New worlds in melody are made,

A language formed of beat and air,

Of unseen hands and sacred care.

So dance the bridge from here to there,

Between the known and answered prayer,

Where inspiration takes its form

A quiet spark, a rising storm.

And when it lands, don’t hold too tight,

Let it move you into light,

For every tale begins this way

A soul that chose at last to play.

Written by

Evalyn Wanjiru Githina

Episode 97: Who Is Princess Mumbi?

2026-08-19T01:15:30.335-07:00

The Many Faces of Princess Mumbi: Reflections on Memory, Happiness, Technology, and Culture

I expected Memories of Princess Mumbi to be a more straightforward story—a glimpse into the everyday life of its central character. Instead, the film felt more like a meditation on how we remember, interpret, and construct other people's lives.

That distinction stayed with me.

Rather than giving us an uncomplicated portrait of Mumbi, the film seems to offer us someone else's perspective on her. And once you begin thinking about the story that way, almost everything becomes open to interpretation.

A future that doesn't necessarily look like the future

One of the film's most intriguing ideas is its treatment of technology.

The story imagines a future in which artificial worlds and AI have become so dominant that society eventually has to pull back. People return to crafts and more traditional forms of human activity.

There is something compelling about that idea. In a world increasingly fascinated by artificial intelligence, virtual experiences, and technological convenience, the film asks whether technological advancement actually satisfies our deeper human needs.

But the film also creates an interesting contradiction.

If we are looking at 2073 or 2099, why do some aspects of life look so much like the past?

The poverty, homelessness, and material deprivation seem strangely familiar. That made me wonder whether the film is intentionally suggesting that technological progress does not necessarily eliminate inequality—or whether it unintentionally equates a return to humanity with a return to poverty.

Those are very different ideas.

There is a valuable human message in returning to community, creativity, craftsmanship, and relationships. But why must that human world look materially deprived?

Perhaps the film could have pushed this contradiction even further.

The illusion of having everything

Another idea that stood out was the relationship between happiness and material abundance.

Mumbi appears to have access to things that should make her happy, yet happiness remains elusive.

That is a familiar human paradox.

We often imagine happiness as something waiting for us on the other side of achievement: once we have enough money, enough comfort, enough success, enough recognition, then we'll finally be satisfied.

But the film seems to challenge that assumption.

Having everything does not necessarily mean feeling fulfilled.

In fact, abundance can sometimes make the absence of meaning more obvious.

That interpretation makes Mumbi's sadness more complicated. Her depression cannot simply be explained by material deprivation. Her struggle appears to belong to a deeper emotional and psychological space.

Depression isn't always visible

The film's treatment of depression was one of the aspects that provoked the most reflection.

In the imagined future of the film, depression appears to have become something more visibly medicalized—almost a physical illness.

That is particularly interesting because our usual images of depression tend to focus on what we can see: withdrawal, sadness, neglect of everyday activities, or a person who appears unable to participate in ordinary life.

But Mumbi complicates that picture.

She can think, question, interact, and experience moments of connection.

The people around her may not fully understand what is happening internally.

And that is perhaps one of the film's most painful observations: we can never completely know what another person is carrying.

The discussion around the film also raised the uncomfortable reality that someone can appear happy, or even experience a genuinely happy moment, while struggling profoundly underneath the surface.

That makes us reconsider how quickly we judge someone's emotional state from what we see.

Whose Mumbi is this?

Perhaps the central question is not "Who is Mumbi?" but "Whose Mumbi are we seeing?"

The film appears to acknowledge that what we are watching is someone's perspective on Mumbi rather than an objective account of her entire life.

That is a powerful idea.

Every person we know exists partly through the stories other people tell about them.

A friend remembers one version of us.

A sibling remembers another.

A parent may have an entirely different understanding of who we were.

And our own memory may disagree with all of them.

The film's references to war add another layer to this idea. We hear about major conflicts, yet we don't experience all of them directly. We receive fragments—memories, explanations, and accounts from different characters.

The result is a world in which truth feels layered rather than singular.

Maybe that is intentional.

After all, people rarely experience conflict in exactly the same way.

The hero who wants to save her

One character's repeated description of himself as a hero also becomes more revealing as the story progresses.

At first, his heroism seems like background information.

But then he repeatedly tries to rescue Mumbi.

Even when she doesn't necessarily want to be rescued.

That raises an important question about the difference between helping someone and needing to be the person who saves them.

His identity as a hero may influence the way he sees Mumbi. Perhaps he needs her to be someone who requires rescuing because that gives meaning to his own identity.

It is another example of the film's larger concern with perspective.

We don't just see other people as they are.

Sometimes we see them according to what we need them to be.

The cultural weight of "Mumbi"

The most difficult reflection for me concerns the cultural significance of the name Mumbi.

The conversation around the film raised strong concerns about cultural appropriation—particularly the use of "Princess Mumbi" without what some viewers felt was sufficient acknowledgment of the cultural meaning attached to Mumbi.

For Kenyan audiences, Mumbi is not necessarily just a fictional name.

The name carries cultural resonance.

So when a film takes that name and places it on a character whose story appears disconnected from that larger cultural meaning, it can create discomfort.

The question becomes: when does borrowing become appropriation?

And does a filmmaker have a responsibility to understand the cultural weight of a name before building a story around it?

One possible defense is that the filmmaker may simply have been using the name without intending to invoke the traditional figure.

But that does not necessarily erase the cultural response.

Meaning doesn't belong entirely to the person who chooses a name.

It also belongs to the communities that have carried that name and its associations.

We don't all watch the same film

Perhaps the most rewarding part of reflecting on Memories of Princess Mumbi was realizing how differently people can respond to the same film.

One viewer may focus on the future of AI.

Another may see a story about depression.

Someone else may focus on the contradictions between wealth and happiness.

Another may see a commentary on war and political divisions.

And for someone else, the most important issue may be cultural representation.

None of these interpretations necessarily cancels out the others.

In fact, they may be the point.

The film itself reminds us that stories are perspectives.

So is memory.

So is identity.

So is grief.

So is love.

And perhaps Mumbi becomes a kind of mirror. We look at her and see not only the character on the screen, but also our own assumptions about happiness, suffering, technology, culture, and what it means to know another person.

What remains after the film?

I came away from Memories of Princess Mumbi with questions rather than a neat conclusion.

Why does technological progress coexist with such familiar poverty?

Can abundance make us unhappy?

How visible can depression really be?

How much of another person's story can we ever know?

When we try to rescue someone, are we helping them—or ourselves?

And what happens when a filmmaker uses a culturally meaningful name without fully engaging with its meaning?

Perhaps these questions are precisely why the film stayed with me.

A film doesn't always have to give us answers.

Sometimes its job is to make us uncomfortable enough to keep thinking.

And Memories of Princess Mumbi does that.

It gives us several possible versions of Mumbi—and leaves us to wonder which one, if any, is the real one.

Poem: Appealing to the Fates

2026-08-12T23:39:39.617-07:00

Appealing to the Fates

O Fates who gather where the roots of the Mugumo drink from forgotten stars,

answer me.

You placed a woven basket upon my palms,

its reeds braided from the hair of Mũmbi

and threads not yet spun by daughters unborn.

Within it slept many gifts.

Some dissolved upon my tongue

like honey warmed by the first light over Kirinyaga.

Some were sealed in shells

that yielded only to bleeding hands.

Others tasted of bitter bark,

of tamarind after rain,

of medicines the heart refuses

until the spirit has grown large enough to swallow them.

Tell me—

Was it my own hands that chose these fruits

before I crossed the river into breath?

Did I laugh and say,

"Give me the difficult road,

for I wish to know the measure of my strength?"

Or did you smile your ancient smile

and tuck sorrow beneath sweetness

the way a healer hides healing herbs

inside ripe bananas?

Had I remembered,

would I not have filled my basket

with dancing,

with lovers who knew the language of my silence,

with harvests that bowed willingly before my feet,

with mornings that smelled only of roasted millet

and evenings embroidered in laughter?

Yet even pleasure is a restless bird.

It drinks once from the calabash

and flies beyond the hills,

while pain builds itself a homestead

and names every room after memory.

The old lovers of distant worlds whispered

that longing sharpens delight,

that hunger teaches the mouth

the miracle of the feast.

Perhaps.

Yet I ask another question.

Must every kiss borrow its sweetness

from yesterday's wound?

Must ecstasy forever negotiate

with grief before entering my house?

Or is there a future—

already blooming beyond tomorrow—

where a woman writes her covenant with destiny,

where love arrives not as conquest

but as recognition,

where her will is not surrendered

but crowned?

If such an age exists,

let my descendants remember

that I called to it.

Let them say:

She spoke across centuries,

argued with the stars,

questioned the Fates without kneeling before them.

She gathered every bitter seed,

planted it beneath the mugumo,

and from it grew forests

where daughters would choose their own harvests.

Until then,

I carry my basket.

Not because every gift is gentle,

but because every gift has learned my name.

And somewhere beyond the edge of time,

my beloved walks toward me—

not to rescue,

not to possess,

but to meet me as an equal,

each of us bearing our own woven basket,

each of us tasting the sweetness

we chose together beneath the watching stars.

Written by

Evalyn Wanjiru Githina

Episode 96: Hard Truths

2026-08-06T07:47:22.513-07:00

Hard Truths Every Woman Should Know (So She Can Live Free)

Welcome to Diva On A Mission, where we share snippets of joy to uplift, inspire and motivate.

This may sting a little.

Not because life is unfair.

Not because women are victims.

But because wisdom often begins where illusions end.

Growing up, many of us were told that if we were kind enough, beautiful enough, hardworking enough, patient enough, someone would notice. Someone would reward us. Someone would rescue us.

Life has a different curriculum.

These are hard truths every woman deserves to know—not to make you fearful, but to make you free.

Hard Truth Number One:

Your voice matters—but sometimes you'll have to fight for it to be heard.

Whether you're at work, in a hospital, negotiating a contract, or setting boundaries in a relationship, don't assume your first "No" will be accepted.

Speak clearly.

Document everything.

Stand firm.

Boundaries are not walls.

They are doors with locks.

Hard Truth Number Two:

Competence is often judged differently.

Many women feel they must over-prepare before speaking up, while others are given the benefit of the doubt much sooner.

Don't let this convince you that you're not capable.

Let your preparation become your confidence—not your prison.

Hard Truth Number Three:

Beauty fades. Character compounds.

One day your skin will wrinkle.

Your hair will gray.

Your body will change.

If your identity lives only in your appearance, every birthday feels like a loss.

Build a mind that keeps growing.

Build a spirit that keeps expanding.

Build a reputation that outlives your youth.

Hard Truth Number Four:

Love does not erase responsibility.

Even in loving relationships, emotional labor doesn't automatically divide itself equally.

Conversations matter.

Expectations matter.

Partnership requires participation—not silent assumptions.

Don't become everyone's project manager.

Become someone's partner.

Hard Truth Number Five:

Your safety deserves attention, not shame.

Many women move through the world with extra awareness.

That isn't weakness.

It's preparation.

Protect yourself without apologizing.

Trust your instincts.

If something feels wrong, leave.

Your peace is worth more than someone's opinion.

Hard Truth Number Six:

Not every woman will celebrate another woman's success.

Comparison has stolen countless dreams.

Competition has broken countless friendships.

But there are women who clap when you win.

Find them.

Protect those friendships.

Become that woman for someone else.

Hard Truth Number Seven:

Motherhood is beautiful—but it is also demanding.

If you choose motherhood, know this:

You cannot do everything perfectly.

You don't have to.

Children don't need perfect mothers.

They need present ones.

Build your village.

Ask for help.

Receive help.

Offer help.

Hard Truth Number Eight:

You are the CEO of your health.

Listen to your body.

Seek second opinions when necessary.

Don't ignore pain because everyone else says it's "just stress."

You know your body better than anyone else.

Treat it like your greatest investment.

Hard Truth Number Nine:

Some people will blame you for things you didn't cause.

Whether it's failure.

Heartbreak.

Harassment.

Or disappointment.

People often look for someone to blame before looking for the truth.

Do not carry guilt that doesn't belong to you.

Take responsibility for your choices.

Refuse responsibility for someone else's behavior.

Hard Truth Number Ten:

Money buys options.

Money cannot buy love.

It cannot buy character.

It cannot buy purpose.

But it can buy safety.

Time.

Healthcare.

Education.

Freedom to leave unhealthy situations.

Financial independence is not greed.

It is self-respect.

Hard Truth Number Eleven:

Loneliness is better than the wrong relationship.

Being chosen is not the prize.

Being cherished is.

Never confuse attention with love.

Never confuse chemistry with compatibility.

Never confuse potential with character.

A peaceful life is worth waiting for.

Hard Truth Number Twelve:

Healing is your responsibility.

What happened to you may not have been your fault.

But your healing belongs to you.

Therapy.

Prayer.

Journaling.

Dance.

Art.

Nature.

Community.

Find what restores your soul.

Don't bleed on people who didn't cut you.

Hard Truth Number Thirteen:

You cannot change another adult.

Not with love.

Not with sacrifice.

Not with patience.

Not with suffering.

People change when they choose to.

Love people for who they are today—not who you hope they'll become tomorrow.

Hard Truth Number Fourteen:

Comparison steals your calling.

Someone will always be prettier.

Richer.

Smarter.

Younger.

Someone else will always have more followers.

None of that has anything to do with your purpose.

Bloom where your roots are planted.

Hard Truth Number Fifteen:

Your dreams require your participation.

Manifestation without action is fantasy.

Prayer without preparation is incomplete.

Vision without discipline remains a wish.

Your future is built one ordinary day at a time.

And finally...

The hardest truth of all.

No one is coming to rescue you.

Not a prince.

Not a promotion.

Not a perfect partner.

Not even perfect timing.

And strangely...

That is the most liberating truth.

Because once you stop waiting to be chosen...

You choose yourself.

You build your skills.

You build your finances.

You build your health.

You build your friendships.

You build your faith.

You build a life so rich in purpose that relationships become a blessing—not a rescue mission.

The healthiest relationships are not built by two people trying to save each other.

They are built by two whole people choosing each other.

So today, I want to leave you with this question:

What dream have you been postponing while waiting for someone else's permission?

Sit with what you feel.

Understand what you truly want.

Seek it with courage.

And whatever you do...

Don't become the biggest roadblock to living the life of your dreams.

Poem: Desert Rose Blooms

2026-08-06T07:37:51.908-07:00

This Desert Rose blooms fiercely against the wind,

her petals bright above a horizon lined with ancient stones — markers of the path where seers once surrendered their names to sand and silence.

Beyond them,

the cliffs continue their slow erosion into memory,

each grain carried away like a whispered prophecy.

Yet, curiosity walks here barefoot.

I wonder: if I were to kneel among these palms and offer even the smallest trace of myself to the thirsty earth, what sleeping codes would awaken beneath the roots?

What old kinships between salt, bone, blossom, and blood would stir in the dark?

Perhaps the flowers would lean closer. Perhaps the cliffs, despite their crumbling, would remember that all living things are archives — temporary vessels carrying oceans, ancestors, and starlight within them.

The Desert Rose does not fear decay. She blooms beside it, radiant and unashamed, teaching the palms and the passing wanderer alike that erosion is not only an ending, but also a way for the earth to make room for new astonishment.

Written by

Evalyn Wanjiru Githina

Episode 95: Perfection Kills Progress

2026-07-30T02:38:58.273-07:00

Today, I want to talk about something that has probably delayed more dreams than failure ever has.

Something that disguises itself as excellence.

Something that sounds noble, responsible, even ambitious…

Perfectionism.

And here’s the hard-won truth I’ve been learning:

Perfection kills progress.

Ouch.

But stay with me.

Because this isn't an invitation to lower your standards.

It’s an invitation to stop allowing the pursuit of perfect to prevent you from becoming excellent.

DONE IS BETTER THAN PERFECT

There’s a saying I love:

“Done is better than perfect.”

A finished draft can be edited.

A recorded podcast can be improved.

A business idea can evolve.

A painting can be reworked.

A manuscript can be rewritten.

But a blank page?

Well…

A blank page has absolutely nothing to work with.

Sometimes we spend so much time waiting for the perfect conditions, the perfect idea, the perfect equipment, the perfect moment, the perfect version of ourselves…

that we never actually begin.

And perfectionism has a sneaky way of convincing us that we are being diligent when, in reality, we are simply afraid to move.

PERFECTION IS A MOVING GOALPOST

Think about it.

You finish something and think:

"Hmm… it could be better."

So you improve it.

Then:

"Maybe the introduction needs work."

You fix the introduction.

Then:

"The lighting isn't quite right."

You change the lighting.

Then:

"Maybe I need a better logo."

And suddenly, six months later…

you haven't launched.

You haven't published.

You haven't shared.

You haven't started.

Because the goalpost keeps moving.

Perfection whispers:

“Not yet.”

And sometimes not yet becomes never.

HIGH STANDARDS VS. PERFECTIONISM

Now, let me make something very clear.

I am not advocating for mediocrity.

There is nothing wrong with having high standards.

In fact, I love excellence.

But there is a difference between excellence and perfectionism.

Excellence asks:

“How can I make this better?”

Perfectionism asks:

“What if this isn't good enough?”

Excellence produces.

Perfectionism procrastinates.

Excellence learns through doing.

Perfectionism wants certainty before taking the first step.

And here's the thing:

Real standards ship.

Perfection just keeps editing.

SO, WHAT'S THE ANTIDOTE?

One approach is to aim for what we might call a minimum viable version.

Not the final version.

Not the masterpiece.

Just the version that works.

The first draft.

The rough sketch.

The imperfect prototype.

The episode recorded before you have the dream studio.

The poem written before you know whether it belongs in a book.

The business idea tested before you have every answer.

Permit yourself to make the ugliest version that technically works.

Then improve it.

Because progress gives you something perfection never can:

Feedback.

And feedback is data.

Every mistake tells you something.

Every awkward first attempt teaches you something.

Every imperfect launch gives you information you could never have gained by sitting around thinking about it.

A FEW WAYS TO DEFEAT PERFECTIONISM

So, if perfectionism has been sitting on your shoulder lately, here are a few things you can try.

Number one: Define “good enough” before you begin.

Decide in advance what passable looks like.

Maybe it’s three rough drafts.

Maybe it’s 70% complete.

Maybe it’s simply:

"I will finish this today and review it tomorrow."

The important thing is that you define the finish line before perfectionism gets to move it.

Number two: Give yourself a deadline.

Not a vague:

"I'll do it when I have time."

A real deadline.

Because sometimes we don't need more time.

We need a container for the time we already have.

Number three: Use the 80/20 rule.

Ask yourself:

"Is this extra hour actually improving the outcome—or is it simply calming my anxiety?"

Because sometimes the final 20% of polishing consumes 80% of our energy.

And nobody is going to notice the difference except you.

Number four: Practice deliberate imperfection.

Yes.

Do something badly on purpose.

Write the messy first draft.

Make the rough sketch.

Dance the choreography before you know all the steps.

Record the voice note.

Try something you aren't immediately brilliant at.

Teach your nervous system:

“I can be imperfect and still be safe.”

Number five: Don't break the chain.

Consistency beats intensity.

You don't have to create a masterpiece every day.

Sometimes your job is simply to show up.

Write one paragraph.

Record five minutes.

Make one phone call.

Take one photograph.

Dance for ten minutes.

One imperfect action today is more powerful than a perfect plan that never leaves your head.

And finally…

Name your inner critic.

Seriously.

Give that voice a name.

Maybe it's Gary.

Maybe it's The Editor.

Maybe it's Professor Nobody-Is-Good-Enough.

Whatever you call it, when it starts talking while you're trying to create, you can simply say:

“Not now, Gary. We're in production mode.”

Because there is a time for editing.

There is a time for evaluating.

There is a time for refining.

But there is also a time to make the thing.

THE REAL SHIFT

And perhaps this is the biggest shift of all.

Stop asking:

“Is this perfect?”

And start asking:

“Is this useful?”

Does it move the conversation forward?

Does it help someone?

Does it make someone think?

Does it bring joy?

Does it teach you something?

Does it get you one step closer to where you want to go?

Because sometimes the thing you are calling imperfect…

is actually just unfinished.

And unfinished doesn't mean failed.

It means:

There is still room to grow.

So, my Diva On A Mission challenge for you this week is simple:

Choose one thing you've been postponing because it isn't perfect.

And finish the next version.

Not the final version.

The next version.

Send the email.

Publish the poem.

Record the podcast.

Launch the idea.

Make the call.

Open the document.

Take the first step.

Let it be messy.

Let it be awkward.

Let it be imperfect.

But let it exist.

Because you can edit something that exists.

You can improve something that exists.

You can learn from something that exists.

But you cannot build momentum from something that only exists in your head.

So here's your mantra for the week:

**Progress over perfection.

**Action over anxiety.

**Done over endlessly almost-done.

And remember:

Your first version doesn't have to be your best version.

It just has to be the version that gets you moving.

This is Eva the Diva, reminding you that you don't have to be perfect to be powerful.

You just have to keep moving.

Until next time…

Keep becoming. Keep creating. Keep dancing.

And whatever you do…don't let perfection kill your progress.

Poem: Shapes Of Love

2026-07-25T03:07:17.902-07:00

Shapes of love. What is the shape of love?

Is it soft and round, like open arms?

A circle, unbroken, holding us close?

Or a river's curve, winding endlessly on,

finding its way through rock and root, never ceasing, never undone?

A father's heart. What shape does it take?

Perhaps the arc of a shield, worn yet strong,

bent and tempered to keep his family whole.

Or maybe a mountain, towering and still,

unmoving, a quiet watch over all,

each layer of stone a promise to protect.

And courage. Does it take the form of a triangle,

sharp and steady, with edges unyielding?

A solid peak rising, cutting through fear,

its points reaching high, piercing the sky,

each side balanced, braced against the weight of all that we carry, all we must face.

Hope, perhaps, is a star, wide and bright,

its arms stretched out like wings of light,

flickering yet constant, guiding us on.

A shape that fits in the palm of our hands,

small but enough, in the darkest of nights, to remind us that dawn is close.

War. Violence. Pain. What forms do they wear?

A fractured line, splitting and sharp,

a jagged edge that cuts, divides,

a shape that disrupts, that shatters,

forcing us to break, to heal, to learn,

testing if our geometry can hold.

And when we look again, in light and in shadow,

what shapes will hope and faith reveal?

Perhaps a spiral, an ending and true,

pulling us forward one step, then two,

or a bridge of gentle curves and steady hands,

made to carry us through, to carry us home.

Written by Evalyn Wanjiru Githina

Episode 94: Ol Kalou Lessons

2026-07-22T06:45:36.432-07:00

The recent Ol Kalou by-election wasn't just about who won or who lost. It was a mirror reflecting timeless truths about human nature, influence, integrity, and the choices we make every day.

Whether you follow politics closely or not, there is something profoundly human in what unfolded.

Let's explore.

Lesson One: The Secret Ballot – Your Life, Your Choice

One of the most beautiful inventions of democracy is the secret ballot.

It reminds us that when all the speeches have been made, when the gifts have been distributed, when the pressure has reached its peak, every voter eventually stands alone.

In that private moment, they choose.

History reminds us of this truth. In 1974, despite immense political pressure, JM Kariuki received overwhelming public support. Decades later, Ol Kalou tells us something similar: people may listen to many voices, but their deepest decisions remain their own.

That is true in life as well.

Friends may advise you.

Family may pressure you.

Society may have expectations.

People may even invest in you with the hope of influencing your choices.

But your final decision belongs to you.

Your career.

Your relationships.

Your healing.

Your purpose.

Accept advice with gratitude.

Receive kindness with humility.

But never surrender your ability to think independently.

Freedom begins long before the ballot box.

It begins in the mind.

Lesson Two: Kindness Is Not Currency

Another striking lesson from Ol Kalou was that many people accepted development projects, gifts, and campaign promises—but still voted according to their conscience.

The assumption that generosity automatically creates loyalty was challenged.

This speaks to something much bigger than politics.

How often do we expect people to love us because of what we've done for them?

How often do we confuse generosity with ownership?

Helping someone should never become an invoice waiting to be paid.

Real trust cannot be purchased.

Real respect cannot be negotiated.

Real love cannot be manipulated.

Relationships built on transactions eventually collapse under the weight of expectation.

Relationships built on authenticity become resilient.

Give because giving reflects your values—not because you're buying someone's future loyalty.

Lesson Three: Influence Is Earned Slowly

The winning campaign didn't simply appear a few weeks before the election.

Many observers pointed to years of consistent engagement by local leaders—people who remained accessible, walked among residents, listened, visited local eateries, and became familiar faces rather than distant authorities.

Influence wasn't created overnight.

It was cultivated.

The same principle applies to every area of our lives.

Leadership isn't built during the presentation.

It's built in the conversations nobody applauds.

Trust isn't built during the crisis.

It's built long before the crisis arrives.

If you want meaningful influence—whether as a parent, entrepreneur, artist, leader, or friend—show up consistently.

Listen more than you speak.

Remain approachable.

Authenticity compounds over time.

Lesson Four: Power Without Humanity Is Fragile

The election also carried painful reminders.

Reports of violence, intimidation, and allegations of excessive force overshadowed what should have been a peaceful democratic exercise.

Whatever the political outcome, every injured citizen represents a cost that statistics cannot measure.

This lesson extends into our personal lives.

Ambition is valuable.

Excellence is admirable.

Success is worth pursuing.

But if we achieve our goals by humiliating others, manipulating them, or creating fear, we've already paid too high a price.

Winning without integrity is simply another form of losing.

The strongest leaders never need to silence people.

They inspire them.

Closing Reflection

Ol Kalou reminds us that while money can create headlines, power can command attention, and influence can fill stadiums, none of these can permanently command the human heart.

People remember how you made them feel.

They remember whether you respected them.

Whether you listened.

Whether you remained authentic when it was inconvenient.

Perhaps the greatest lesson from this by-election is this:

The most enduring influence isn't purchased.

It isn't forced.

It is earned—one honest conversation, one consistent action, and one act of integrity at a time.

As you go through your week, ask yourself:

Am I making choices that truly belong to me?

Am I building relationships through authenticity rather than obligation?

Am I earning trust—or trying to manufacture it?

Because in the end, every one of us has a secret ballot.

Every day.

Every decision.

And every choice quietly shapes the person we become.

Thank you for joining me on Diva On A Mission.

If this episode resonated with you, share it with someone who values authenticity, integrity, and thoughtful leadership. Subscribe, leave a review, and let's continue discovering the extraordinary lessons hidden in ordinary moments.

Until next time, stay curious, stay courageous, and keep choosing the life that is truly yours.

Peace. Thayú.

Poem: Pillars For The Forgotten Gods

2026-07-20T04:29:30.256-07:00

Pillars for the Forgotten Gods

Who remembers the names

buried beneath camel tracks

and dry wind?

Who calls the spirits still seated

inside the black stones

of Lothagam?

The lake withdrew its blue tongue,

left fish bones whitening in prayer,

yet the pillars remained

upright like old women

refusing exile.

At Kalokol

children kick dust over graves without knowing

their ancestors once mapped stars here,

measured rain with song,

spoke to serpents sleeping beneath the earth.

The missionaries arrived

with iron crosses and clocks,

saying salvation wore one face only.

But the wind laughed through acacia thorns,

through ostrich feathers,

through beadwork carrying coded galaxies.

There were gods before paper.

Gods of salt migration.

Gods who traveled with cattle ribs

and moonlit drums.

Gods hidden in ochre hands

pressed against volcanic stone.

A mother spirit once lived here,

not María Lionza

riding through Venezuelan forests,

but her sister of the jade lake,

adorned with cowrie shells and crocodile teeth,

her voice carried by flamingos.

She guarded wells.

She entered dancers

during eclipses.

She braided visions

into the sleep of diviners.

But memory was traded

for uniforms,

for borders drawn by strangers

who never tasted this dust.

Now tourists photograph silence

while the old gods survive

inside fragments:

a grandmother humming to goats,

a fisherman pouring beer into the lake at dawn,

a girl dancing alone

when thunder gathers over Turkana.

The pillars listen.

At night they speak softly

to the buried ones below:

We are not gone.

We are only untranslated.

And when the desert wind rises

through Lothagam and Kalokol,

the forgotten deities lift their stone backs again,

walking briefly among us

like heat shimmer over water.

Inspired by Turkana Pillar Sites and Maria Lionza by Ruben Blades and Willie Colo

Written by

Evalyn Wanjiru Githina

Episode 93: Invisible Hands

2026-07-20T04:24:12.463-07:00

Today, I invite you to pause.

To look again.

To notice the people your eyes have been taught to look through.

This episode is called Invisible Hands.

---

Every morning, most of us wake up believing we are independent.

We make our tea.

We switch on the lights.

We take a shower.

We drive to work.

We order food.

We buy groceries.

We go about our day.

But none of these things happen because we are self-sufficient.

They happen because thousands of invisible hands have already been at work long before we opened our eyes.

Someone planted the tea.

Someone harvested the coffee.

Someone baked the bread.

Someone cleaned the streets before dawn.

Someone collected the rubbish we no longer wanted.

Someone drove through the night so shelves would be stocked by morning.

Someone built the road beneath our tyres.

Someone laid the pipes that carry clean water into our homes.

Someone stitched the clothes we wear.

Someone cared for an elderly parent while another family went to work.

The world moves because of people whose names we may never know.

Yet somehow, we have built societies that celebrate those who accumulate wealth more than those who sustain life.

We applaud power.

We admire status.

We chase titles.

But we often overlook the people whose labour keeps civilization breathing.

---

Who taught us that a person's worth is measured by a salary?

Who decided that education alone determines wisdom?

Why do we know the names of billionaires, yet not the names of the people who prepare our food every day?

Why do we celebrate those who own buildings more than those who build them?

Some of the greatest intelligence in the world has never been awarded a degree.

It lives in farmers who understand seasons better than satellites.

In mechanics who can diagnose an engine by listening.

In market traders who calculate profits faster than calculators.

In grandmothers who preserve seeds, recipes, languages, and stories that no university has archived.

Knowledge wears many faces.

So does dignity.

---

Perhaps the problem isn't that these people are invisible.

Perhaps it is that we have stopped seeing.

We have trained our eyes to notice prestige instead of purpose.

Income instead of impact.

Recognition instead of contribution.

Imagine if, for just one day, every cleaner stayed home.

Every sanitation worker.

Every farmer.

Every driver.

Every caregiver.

Every construction worker.

Every market vendor.

Every domestic worker.

The world would not simply slow down.

It would stop.

These are not the people at the edges of society.

They are its foundation.

---

So how do we change our lens?

We begin by asking different questions.

Instead of asking,

"Who is the most successful?"

Ask,

"Who makes my life possible?"

Instead of asking,

"What does this person earn?"

Ask,

"What would happen if this person were no longer here?"

Gratitude begins where visibility begins.

Justice begins where recognition begins.

---

This is also an invitation.

Learn the names of the people who make your life easier.

Thank them.

Pay them fairly.

Treat them with respect.

Tell their stories.

Listen to their wisdom.

See them not as background characters in your life, but as fellow human beings carrying the weight of the world, one ordinary day at a time.

---

History often remembers kings, presidents, inventors, and billionaires.

But civilizations are built by countless ordinary people whose names rarely appear in books.

They are the invisible hands that harvest, build, clean, carry, repair, nurture, protect, and create.

Without them, history itself could never have happened.

Perhaps the greatest measure of a society is not how it treats its richest citizens, but how deeply it values those whose work is essential and whose voices are seldom heard.

---

As you go through your week, I leave you with one question:

Whose invisible hands have carried you today?

Notice them.

Thank them.

Celebrate them.

Because a world that truly sees its people is a world that becomes more compassionate, more just, and more beautifully human.

Thank you for joining me on Diva On A Mission.

Until next time, keep seeking joy, honour every story, and remember that even the quietest hands can shape the future.

I'm Eva the Diva.

See you in the next episode.

Poem: Warp & Weft

2026-07-20T03:50:55.790-07:00

Warp and Weft

There are places where history does not live in books

but in breath.

In the clearing of a throat before an old song.

In the way an elder pauses before speaking a name.

In the arrangement of stones around a relative's jaw.

The silence between drumbeats punctuates the spaces empire mistook for emptiness.

A woman once leaned into a machine of wax and brass

and sang the last remembered syllables of a world her colonizers had tried to grind into dust.

Across oceans,

another archive waits in heat and red earth.

Kapenguria.

Manipur.

Kamiti.

Names carried by wind through thorn country,

through military barracks and marketplaces,

through the footsteps of men who crossed continents

to fight wars that were never truly theirs.

My grandfather marched beneath foreign flags

into the wet green mouth of Burma,

where jungle swallowed boots and rifles alike,

In valleys where malaria, artillery and memory moved through the body like spirits.

Somewhere between gunpowder and monsoon rain,

he survived.

And life itself became inheritance.

Not only blood and tongue, but gesture.

The way he folded silence around grief.

The way marketplaces rose where soldiers once traded salt, stories, tobacco, names.

The way entire generations fed themselves from roads first cut by war.

A market is never just for trade.

It is a stomach.

It is a parliament.

It is an altar disguised as commerce.

Women bargaining over millet and cooking oil

while carrying cosmologies in their posture.

Children weaving between stalls, unknowingly inheriting maps older than borders.

Men laughing beside rusted corrugated roofs

built atop forgotten battlegrounds.

And beneath all this—

beneath barter, asphalt and prayer—

the old contract remains.

Humans have always negotiated existence.

Not only on paper.

But through ritual and singing lineage into the void

so that it remembers you back.

I imagine my Garana organising trade caravans,

squatting low to the earth,

their shadows folding into roots and moonlight.

One speaks their mother’s tongue, her mother’s name.

Names the clan.

Follows the river, then the cattle song.

Recounts the battles survived.

Not because God forgets, but because memory itself is sacred labor.

Stones are arranged carefully at a sacred site.

Three here.

Seven there.

One facing east.

An offering is made.

Perhaps tobacco.

Maybe milk.

Perhaps only breath.

The living believe they are speaking upward,

but perhaps they are also speaking backward

and forward simultaneously.

To the unborn.

To the dead.

To those crossing oceans.

To those crouched before phonographs.

To those marching through Burma.

To those not yet named.

What is a prayer

if not a thread cast across time?

What is lineage

if not an echo teaching matter how to remember itself?

We leave traces everywhere.

A fingerprint on wax cylinder recordings.

A military file archived in a northern town.

A marketplace name surviving long after empire forgets why it exists.

Footprints circling a shrine.

A lullaby or a scar.

We imagine history as something monumental—

bronze statues, treaties, museums.

But most history survives softly.

In recipes.

In nicknames.

In burial songs.

In the instinct to face a certain direction while praying.

In the trembling voice of an elder saying:

This is who we were.

This is who we are.

Do not let the earth forget us.

Perhaps that is what we are

in this great tapestry.

Not masters of it.

Not even witnesses entirely.

But threads.

Living threads.

Briefly luminous strands crossing one another

through oceans, wars, migrations, extinctions, ceremonies and love.

Warp and weft.

Some threads burn brightly then disappear.

Some are woven into the homes that shelter us

Some travel impossibly far before returning home transformed.

Yet all are held in tension

by hands beyond understanding

so that centuries later

another human being may see shades of pink, burnt orange, ochre and know

We were here.

We fought.

We fed each other.

We remembered.

And the tapestry, despite everything, still lives.

Written by

Evalyn Wanjiru Githina

Episode 92: MAD Baby Racism In K-Drama and BTS

2026-07-20T03:29:05.586-07:00

MAD Baby: Racism, K-Dramas, BTS, and the Cost of Cultural Erasure

By Eva the Diva | Diva On A Mission Podcast

Welcome to Diva On A Mission, where we share snippets of joy to uplift, inspire, and motivate. Happy July!

The year is already more than halfway over. Have you achieved your goals? Have you set new ones? What are you hoping to accomplish before 2026 comes to an end?

Life has certainly been lifing lately. Many of us have been grieving loved ones, supporting friends through illness, and navigating the uncertainty that seems to define our times. Perhaps the greatest lesson is to take life one day at a time and find joy wherever we can.

It was during one of those ordinary days that I stumbled upon two stories that left me deeply unsettled. Together, they raised a larger question about race, respect, and the way Black culture is celebrated while Black people themselves are often marginalized.

When Appreciation Stops Looking Like Respect

The first incident involved a Korean drama actor attending a fashion event in Paris.

Videos circulating online appeared to show him greeting and signing autographs for several fans while seemingly passing over a Black woman who had also been waiting for him. Whether intentional or not, the moment sparked conversations online about exclusion and anti-Black bias.

The second story concerned BTS's animated teaser for their Arirang project, set at Howard University in 1896.

Howard University is one of America's most historically significant Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCUs), founded in 1867 to educate newly freed Black Americans after slavery. Yet the teaser portrayed the campus as being populated largely by white students.

That artistic choice struck many viewers as historically inaccurate and emotionally painful.

It made me ask a much bigger question:

What happens when people love your culture but struggle to acknowledge your humanity?

Imagine This...

Let me ask you something.

Imagine you're dating someone.

They eat at your table.

They borrow your clothes.

They repeat your inside jokes to their friends.

People praise them for sounding just like you.

Then one day they post a picture of your grandmother's house.

Except they've photoshopped your entire family out of it and replaced them with strangers.

When you point out how hurtful that is, they respond:

«"It's just art."»

«"You're being too sensitive."»

Would you stay?

Because that's no longer a relationship question.

It's a respect question.

Borrowing Without Seeing

There is nothing wrong with cultural exchange.

Music has always travelled across borders.

Dance evolves through influence.

Art grows through conversation.

K-pop itself has drawn enormous inspiration from Black musical traditions, including hip-hop, R&B, soul, gospel, and street dance.

There is beauty in that exchange.

But cultural exchange also comes with responsibility.

It asks us to acknowledge where ideas came from.

It asks us to credit those who created them.

It asks us not to erase the people whose shoulders we stand upon.

That's why the Howard University imagery resonated with so many people.

It wasn't simply about animation.

It was about visibility.

MAD: Mutually Assured Destruction

One phrase kept echoing in my mind:

Mutually Assured Destruction (MAD).

Originally, MAD described nuclear deterrence: if one side attacks, everyone loses.

But culturally, the equation has rarely been mutual.

Black communities create.

Others commercialize.

Black artists innovate.

Others receive wider recognition.

Black aesthetics become fashionable.

Black people continue facing discrimination for wearing the very styles others profit from.

That's not mutual destruction.

That's extraction.

Throwing Out the Baby with the Bathwater

Another metaphor kept returning.

We often hear:

"Don't throw the baby out with the bathwater."

Perhaps the "baby" is the genuine love many Black fans have for Korean music, dramas, fashion, and culture.

The "bathwater" is the repeated experience of exclusion, stereotyping, or historical erasure.

But here's the question:

Why are Black audiences so often expected to separate the two?

Why is the emotional labour always ours?

Why must we preserve the relationship while continually explaining why something hurt?

Respect Is Daily

Think about any healthy relationship.

Respect isn't something you demonstrate once.

It's something you practice every day.

Acknowledgement is daily.

Listening is daily.

Repair is daily.

If someone hurts you, the question isn't whether mistakes happen.

The question is what they do afterward.

Do they listen?

Or do they become defensive?

The Difference Between Appreciation and Appropriation

This conversation ultimately comes down to one distinction.

Appreciation says:

"Teach me your history."

"Help me understand your culture."

"I'll honour where this came from."

Appropriation says:

"I'll borrow what benefits me."

"I'll profit from it."

"But I don't need to acknowledge you."

That difference matters.

Boundaries Are Not Hatred

I've enjoyed Korean dramas for over a decade.

This isn't about rejecting an entire culture.

Nor is it about encouraging outrage for outrage's sake.

It's about boundaries.

Healthy relationships—whether personal or cultural—require accountability.

When someone causes harm, acknowledging that harm matters.

Defending it does not build trust.

Correcting it does.

Why This Feels Especially Painful

Perhaps what saddened me most is the symbolism of Arirang itself.

For Koreans, Arirang is more than a song.

It is a cultural expression of resilience, loss, longing, and survival.

As Africans and members of the African diaspora, we understand those emotions deeply.

Our histories carry the scars of colonialism, displacement, and resistance too.

Which makes moments like these feel especially disappointing.

Communities connected by histories of resilience have an opportunity to stand with one another—not erase one another.

Choosing Self-Respect

This isn't really about cancel culture.

It's about standards.

It's about deciding what respect looks like.

It's about asking ourselves difficult questions.

If this behaviour came from someone else, would we excuse it?

If the answer is no, why should celebrity status change our expectations?

Because love without respect eventually becomes exploitation.

And admiration without accountability becomes appropriation.

We are not costumes.

We are not mood boards.

We are not trends.

We are people.

We are creators.

We are originators.

We deserve to be seen—not only when our culture is profitable, but always.

I'd genuinely love to hear your thoughts.

Where do you draw the line between cultural appreciation and cultural appropriation?

Let's continue the conversation with curiosity, honesty, and respect.

Until next time, protect your peace, protect your joy, and protect your boundaries.

Poem: Myth Of The Listening Earth

2026-07-16T03:09:11.756-07:00

THE MYTH OF THE LISTENING EARTH

Before the land grew tired,

before water forgot its names,

humans did not speak to the world.

They played with it.

In those days, knowledge did not arrive as instruction.

It arrived as curiosity.

The people came to the river not to wash or to drink, but to enter it.

They swam without urgency, letting the current carry their weight.

When they sank, they laughed.

When they floated, they rested.

The water learned their bodies.

Their bodies learned the water.

Only later did the elders understand:

water awakens through movement and surrender.

It listens when the body forgets its edges.

---

The earth was met differently.

They did not stand above it.

They knelt.

They rolled in it.

They pressed their hands into its coolness and let soil cling to skin.

Sometimes they lay with their ears against the ground,

waiting.

The earth did not answer quickly.

The earth was old.

---

One season, while mouths were close to the soil and breath was slow,

someone remembered a sound.

It was not a word.

It had no meaning.

It curved.

The sound rose and fell like a wave returning to shore.

Another voice joined it.

Then another.

Soon the air thickened with tone.

The sound did not travel outward.

It traveled down.

The earth listened.

Later generations would recognize echoes of this sound

in shrines where voices move as one,

in ululations that spiral through ceremony,

in dialog that is not shouted but placed.

Back then, no one named it sacred.

They simply noticed that when the sound was shared,

the ground softened.

---

The elders warned of one thing only:

Do not hurry the land.

Do not command it.

Do not ask it for proof.

The earth responds only to those who remember how to listen.

---

As the chorus deepened, the soil shifted — not dramatically, not violently.

Seeds long buried stirred.

Water hidden beneath the surface adjusted its course.

The land did not bloom instantly.

It remembered itself.

Children were born with dreams of rivers they had never seen.

Old songs returned to mouths that had forgotten how to sing.

The soil grew darker, richer, quieter.

---

But time changed the people.

They began to perform the sounds without entering the water.

They repeated the tones without touching the ground.

They kept the rituals but abandoned the play.

The land grew silent again.

The water still moved,

but it no longer answered.

The sounds remained in prayer halls, in ceremonies, in celebrations

but their purpose faded into beauty alone.

And yet…

The earth never forgot.

On a day when cycles aligned — when twelve met twelve —

a few wandered outside again.

They swam.

They rolled in the soil.

They laughed without knowing why.

A sound rose, unplanned, unpolished.

The land listened.

MYTHIC SEAL

And so the old ones say:

The world does not need to be saved. It needs to be remembered.

Written by

Evalyn Wanjiru Githina

Episode 91: How To Embrace Polygamy

2026-06-29T07:27:38.220-07:00

So, it is no surprise that I'm going to talk about the Polygamist which has created an uproar all over social media.

It has been all over my For You page on TikTok and the conversations on my stories on Instagram and I thought and even my friends and my sister and I were discussing it and I thought it would be interesting to discuss what I think about not spoilers of the show, but about the whole idea of polygamy and how we can embrace polygamy in our everyday lives. So, if you have, if you do not know what is happening, the Polygamist is a 22-episode telenovela based on the Zimbabwean novel by Sue Nyathi, which kicks off with the death of a wealthy philandering businessman and it unfolds as a revenge story following his you know, relationships and how he manages it.

Of course, he had more than one wife but it is, I think, the mechanics and the reality of how this character manages his relationships that has really triggered a lot of people, a lot of women on my stories of my For You page were talking about how this is like play-by-play of what has been happening for them, to them as children growing up in a polygamist household.

Women have come out saying that this is not even the worst of it, that they've experienced married to, as women married to men who are polygamists.

In this day and age, we need to find ways to make systems work for us and I'm talking about and to women.

Our mission should be to find systems that work for us and abandon those that do not because what I believe is important is to decide for yourself and empower yourself in as many ways as possible. I know life happens, I know people unwittingly find themselves into situations where they are married to a man who is wanting more than one wife or you're finding yourself in a situation where you're being played romantically, career-wise, financially, socially and this puts you in a bad position in regards to your health, in regards to your social status, in regards to your financial status, in regards to your career. And so I was thinking of polygamy as a system.

How can we change this system so that it works for us? And that's why I thought it would be appropriate for us to maybe discuss ways that we can embrace polygamy and make it work for ourselves, right? So to be clear, polygamy is usually one man, multiple wives and is legally and culturally contentious and for many, many women it is inherently unequal. However, if you're a woman already in a polygamous structure by choice, faith or circumstance, living your best life requires shifting from survival mode to strategic empowerment. How can you embrace polygamy practically, right?

1. Define the best life as autonomy, not approval.

Your best life cannot depend on a man's rotation schedule. Build your identity around your purpose, your career, your children or community, not about being his favorite.

What does this look like from an action point of view? Schedule your non-negotiable personal time, work-related time, gym-related time, friendships, right, before he creates his schedule.

So create a schedule that works for you. His visits or whatever it is that he's doing should fit into your calendar, not the other way around.

2. Master Financial Independence.

In polygamy, shared resources often create scarcity. So protect yourself.

What does this look like from an action point of view?

If you work, keep your income separate. If you're a homemaker, negotiate a fixed individual allowance, not a shared household budget that you save and invest privately.

Legally document and then, create a financial system that works for you. And also legally document assets in your name only.

3. Create a sister-wife contract, not just romance.

You need to approach this polygamous situation like a company structure, where everyone has roles and responsibilities, and this is defined in a written document, or yes, most specifically in a written document. You can't be looking at your sister-wife from a romantic point of view or romanticizing this arrangement.

Look at it like it is a company structure. So of course emotions will flare and this structure is supposed to prevent jealousy by formalizing logistics.

Who's picking up the kids? When is visitation?

When do we visit the in-laws? How do we make sure we financially provide for the gifts that we take to our in-laws or whatever support is given, right?

From an action point of view, as agreeing on written rules for holidays, sick days, child-rearing, and public appearances.

Who's taking the kids for practice?

Who's doing the parent-teacher day?

Who is paying school fees? Who's buying school supplies? Who's buying uniforms?

Who is doing homework for the children?

How is healthcare provided? How is their social well-being provided for?

In a polygamous situation, you have to document and assign tasks, and do not leave out any item as being too, innocuous. That is where the problems will come in.

4. Guard your mental and physical health.

Polygamy is emotionally taxing. Jealousy is natural.

Don't suppress it. Manage it.

How does this look from an action point of view? Have a therapist. If you are in a religious setting and you want something religion-based, you can find a counselor that works for you and works with your life philosophy, a therapist that works for you or your life philosophy, or a trusted mentor outside the marriage.

Prioritize routine health check-ups. Include STI testing. And what else can I say? Yes, mental health, physical health.

So make sure your physical health is taken care of. You get health check-ups. You get STI testing.

You get mental well-being and therapy support so that you guard your mental health and physical health.

5. Cultivate a robust social circle. If your community judges you, you will feel trapped.

Find your tribe. What does this look from an action point of view? Connect with other polygamous women online, locally, who are thriving. Do not isolate yourself in the shared home.

Have friends and activities that have nothing to do with your husband. So you're essentially building your own world outside of the marriage and creating systems that work specifically for you. You are the priority in these systems that we are creating.

6. Choose your battles wisely. You cannot control his other relationships. You can only control your reaction.

What does this look like from an action point of view? Let go of monitoring his phone or comparing treatment. Instead, judge the marriage by one metric.

Does being there give me more resources, freedom, or peace than leaving would?

If the answer is no for six to eight months, plan an exit, not a protest.

I hope these six ideas and pointers help you create a world where you are more in charge, where you are the priority, and where your needs are number one. And so that we are not ending up as victims in our own lives.

The hard truth is in as much as men will try and present this as a winning thing for you, you have to actually put in the work to create systems that protect you, protect your well-being, and that give you the best life possible.

You cannot win polygamy by being a better wife. You win by becoming a person who is whole with or without your husband.

Use the structure for stability, but never sacrifice your legal rights, career, or self-respect for the title of first wife, goat wife, or favorite.

Your best life is one where you are the protagonist, not a supporting character in his story. And I hope by using these pointers, you can embrace polygamy for your betterment.

If you have ideas on how we can better embrace polygamy to better women and so that women are winning, please send me an email at doampodcast(at)gmail.com follow us on tiktok at doampod or comment on our youtube video on diva on a mission podcast on youtube.

Please go live your best life and create strategies where you are the winner. Peace. Thayù.