There’s this quiet, often unpopular boundary I’ve been drawing in the sand of my own existence lately. It’s not against an encroaching person, or a demanding situation, but against a far more insidious opponent: my own panic. Against that knee-jerk urgency to control, to fix, to wrestle every outcome into submission.
We’re so often caught in the swirling “what if,” forgetting the undeniable truth echoed in countless past seasons of life: somehow we survive, things work out. The debts were cleared. The money came in. Everything fell into place, time and time again.
It’s a peculiar thing, this ingrained human anxiety, almost a default setting we’re taught to accept. But then I was listening to Seph Schlueter’s “Won’t Start Now,” and a calm settled over me, a profound realization that the frantic worrying serves no one.
My mind drifted to ancient texts, to the countless times it whispers, “Do not fear.” More than 365 times, they say. One for every day the sun rises, a daily permission slip to release the vice grip.
So lately, I’ve decided to lean into that space, to make it my default. To consciously choose a different path, to trust The Unseen Current that flows beneath everything, even when its direction isn’t immediately visible. It feels like an unraveling of old habits, replaced by something more intentional. My internal vibration shifting, ever so subtly.
This boundary, at first, felt like surrender, like a giving up. But it wasn’t. It was an active choice, a fierce reclamation of my peace. It was saying no to the constant mental war games, no to the exhausting internal negotiations with hypothetical disasters.
It was choosing to believe that I am always carried, that there’s a flow that holds me, regardless of the surface ripples. This choice, this internal posture, has become my quiet revolution, the foundational stone of a fortress I am building for my spirit.
The shift wasn’t instantaneous. It came in moments, in small, unexpected tests that nudged me closer to this deeper trust. Life, as it often does, presented opportunities to either revert to old patterns of panic or step into this newfound grace. Each instance, like a gentle tug on the line, reaffirmed the existence of The Unseen Current.
Just the other day, on one of my errands, I was navigating the chaotic dance of a boda ride through town. The wind, a playful thief, snatched a note from my pouch as I reached for cash. It fluttered away, a green leaf caught in an updraft, vanishing into the blur of the street.
The old me, the me from a mere season of life ago, would have instantly spiraled. My heart would have thumped against my ribs, demanding the rider turn back, insisting we scour the ground for that lost bit of paper. How could I be so careless? What a waste!
But this time, a different quiet settled over me. My shoulders remained relaxed. I didn’t even look back, choosing not to become Lot’s wife, gazing mournfully at what was lost. Perhaps it was a way of the universe to bless someone who needed it most, I thought, a silent offering to an unknown hand. I simply went along with my day, the vibration of my calm holding firm.
I had a delivery to make in town, then planned to head back. Later, in what felt like a small miracle, the original order turned out to be mistaken; they wanted a bigger size. So, I ended up getting another order from the same client. This new order not only covered the cost of the lost note but also the unexpected extra walking I did back and forth across town. It felt like The Unseen Current had simply rerouted a different stream of abundance. A quiet nod from the universe.
This incident got me thinking of the bus fare incident, a much louder, more disorienting moment that truly solidified this dare I’d laid before the universe.
I had mistakenly overpaid, not just once, but more than twenty times the actual fare. I was utterly lost in thought that day, tired from my errands, my mind a hazy cloud. My routine is always the same: board, pay, then relax.
I settled into my seat, eyes drifting outside, occasionally scrolling through TikTok. The makanga came around, checking messages. He lingered on my phone screen, staring a bit longer than necessary. My phone’s always on dark mode, lowest light setting, so I just assumed he couldn’t see the transaction clearly. Must be my low screen brightness, I mumbled to myself.
It wasn’t until I alighted and tried to pay for a pineapple that the reality hit me like a cold splash of water. My M-Pesa account screamed “insufficient balance.” What the f happened? I knew I should have had more than enough.
A quick check of my M-Pesa messages revealed the shocking truth: I had entered my M-Pesa PIN as the amount, then reentered the PIN assuming it was M-Pesa freezing as it usually does. It was a sum far greater than any bus fare. I had to touch my little savings, my emergency buffer, just to cover the pineapple. Oh, the sting of it.
Suddenly, the makanga’s lingering gaze made horrifying sense. He must have seen the exorbitant amount deducted. He was checking to see if I’d noticed, I thought, a flush of heat creeping up my neck.
I was so disoriented, so frustrated, I just decided to take a boda home from the stage. You’d think after losing so much cash, I’d try to save every shilling, but I just wanted to be home, away from the muddle.
It was a pochi la biashara account, so I couldn’t access the makanga’s number directly. I tried the 456 reversal to no success. Then I called 100, preparing for the usual long wait with Safaricom, but they picked up surprisingly fast. They told me to wait 72 hours. At that point, I just decided to give up on it.
A wave of calm washed over me, a feeling of holding space for what was. I made a declaration, a bold wager with the universe: For every shilling I lose, I get back a hundred-fold, or a thousand-fold. And I left it at that. I truly let it go, a complete surrender.
The universe, it seems, takes its dares seriously. The very next day, the money was reversed in full. The funny, ironic thing? The tout lost both. If he had been honest, he would have received his rightful fare, and I would have kept the rest. But now? It was as if I’d ridden for free.
My initial frantic energy had given way to quiet surrender, and The Unseen Current had responded with a surprising bounty. These experiences, both big and small, were cementing my trust, recalibrating my inner compass towards alignment.
This isn’t about ignoring problems or pretending life is always sunshine. It’s about a fundamental shift in my internal landscape, a deep-seated decision to have my nervous system regulated. Whatever happens, let it be if it was meant as so. I simply do my part, intentional in my actions, then step back and let God and the universe handle the rest.
The freedom in this choice is profound. It’s like finding a quiet cove, a sheltered inlet where the choppiest seas cannot reach, knowing that The Unseen Current will always guide my vessel towards its destined harbor.
The profound relief I feel is a quiet hum beneath the surface of my days. It’s the liberation from the relentless mental chatter, the exhausting attempts to micromanage existence. I am no longer lost in thoughts, tired from the sheer mental load of trying to force things, whether with situations or people. Instead, there’s an inner stillness, a deep breath taken and held.
This isn’t passivity. It’s active trust.
It’s understanding that my energy is best spent creating, connecting, living, rather than wrestling with what is.
My inner fortress of peace is being built not with walls of control, but with foundations of surrender. Every decision to release, every moment I choose peace over panic, adds another brick, another layer of calm. It feels like stepping out of a frantic current and into a deeper, slower, more powerful flow.
This season of life is marked by this profound unburdening, a quiet strength that comes from releasing the illusion of control and stepping into the expansive reality of trust. It’s a feeling of grace that permeates every interaction, every unexpected turn.
So, what does this look like for you, on your own stretch of the river? It’s not about specific steps, but about cultivating a mindset, a quiet revolution within your own being. Begin by observing. Notice those “what if” moments that threaten to pull you under. When panic or anxiety starts to bubble, pause. Take a breath. Then, consciously recall your own personal history.
Remember those times when the debts were cleared. Remember when the money did come in, often from unexpected places. Remember when everything did fall into place, even when you couldn’t see how. You have your own evidence. Your past resilience is a map.
Practice small acts of letting go. Not just in the big, dramatic moments, but in the everyday frustrations that tug at your peace. The spilled coffee, the missed connection, the delayed response. These are micro-opportunities to choose trust over tension. To tell yourself, This too, will flow. There’s a profound strength found in this vulnerability, an intentionality in choosing peace over panic. It’s not weakness; it’s an ancient, sovereign wisdom.
Begin to establish your own fortress of peace by regularly reminding yourself of that simple, powerful counsel: “Do not fear.” More than 365 times, remember? Give yourself that daily permission.
You have a track record of survival, a history of overcoming. That’s not luck; that’s The Unseen Current carrying you.
This journey is a continuous choice, a gentle redirection back to the flow whenever the ripples of worry threaten to overwhelm. Your vibration shifts when you choose trust. Choose it. Live intentionally, guided by that deeper trust, rather than reacting out of an old, exhausted fear. This is your course, charted not by control, but by the quiet confidence of surrender.
This journey with The Unseen Current is an ongoing conversation, not a destination. My trust, like anyone’s, can still waver, especially in a challenging season of life. But the profound shift is in how I approach those wavers.
It’s no longer about ignoring problems, but about approaching them from a place of grounded peace rather than frantic panic. It’s about holding space for uncertainty, knowing that even if the universe doesn’t always return “100-fold” in the precise way I imagine, it consistently provides what is needed, often in unexpected forms. My alignment feels clearer, my spirit lighter.
The bet with the universe continues, not for a specific return, but for the profound grace of knowing I’m always carried.
