Life Feels Better When You Flow

In this heartfelt letter, I share how embracing uncertainty has brought me peace, joy, and deeper love for myself and those around me.

Every September, I sit down to write a birthday letter. For me, my birthday marks the beginning of a new year, and this writing has always been my way of pausing, reflecting, and sharing the things that live in my heart. In truth, this letter is often how my mind finally hears the whispers of my heart, how I begin to understand what my soul is carrying. It’s a moment that tugs at something deep within me, and I’m grateful for the gift of being able to share it with you. As you read, you’re like a quiet observer, witnessing this intimate conversation between my heart, mind, and soul.

If you’ve been in my orbit, you know that this year has been one marked by deep grief. I lost my brother, someone I loved more than words can express. He wasn’t just my brother - he was my friend, my companion in this life for almost 38 years. The loss was shattering, and part of me thought this letter would be about that grief. About how I’ve been carrying it, what I’ve learned, and how it’s reshaped me. And while I know I’ll write about that one day soon, today isn’t that day.

Instead, today, I want to write about something else - something that feels like a blessing I’ve been able to observe, experience, and live through. It’s something so deeply beautiful, freeing, joyful, and yet, so simple in its power to navigate life’s uncertainty. I call it Flow, and I believe Flow is simply "God in Motion."

When we think of how God works, we often expect grandeur - thunderous voices, lightning strikes, miracles, oceans parting. We look for these grand gestures to know that He is near, that He is moving. And while I know there are those who feel God’s presence in this way, my experience has been different. My experience of God in motion has been more like a quiet, constant rhythm. It’s not loud or overwhelming, it’s steady and gentle, like a river that moves effortlessly through the land, shaping it without force.

Imagine Moses at the edge of the Red Sea, with the waters stretching vast before him and the armies of Egypt closing in behind. The sea would not part simply because he lifted his rod, it wasn't about the physical motion. Something much smaller, yet infinitely more significant, had to happen first. His heart had to enter a state of flow - a place of trust and deep belief. It was here, in this space of surrender and conviction, that he could connect to something far greater than himself.

In that quiet moment before the great motion, Moses had to believe that lifting his rod could mean something. He had to let go of fear and expectation, letting his heart align with the divine flow already at work. It was in this alignment that his simple act - raising a rod - became a conduit for the extraordinary. The sea didn't part because of the force of his action, but because of the alignment of his heart with the larger flow of what was possible.

Flow is this: the small, unseen shift in your inner world that creates the possibility for the miraculous in your outer world. Without that inner state of trust, of openness, even the most grand external gestures mean little. But with it, even the smallest motion - like lifting a rod - can move oceans.

Flow is this quiet surrender, this deep trust in the unfolding of life. It’s where I have found God most present, guiding me in ways that don’t feel rushed or pressured. It’s where life moves without resistance, where I am reminded that I don’t have to have all the answers or do everything at once. I just have to stay in Flow - aligned with something greater - and trust that things are unfolding as they should.

Recently, I embarked on a journey with a dear friend as we began writing a series of journal entries about our experiences of Flow - that beautiful state where life feels effortless and aligned with our deepest selves. As we shared our personal reflections, I was moved by the realization that, despite our individual stories, we aren’t as different from one another as we often believe. Beneath the surface of our diverse experiences lies a common thread - a profound need for safety, love, connection, and growth. 

As we navigate our paths toward self-actualization, it becomes essential to find ways to enter that state of Flow. This state allows us to align with God’s purpose for our lives, enabling us to ride the currents of life instead of fighting against them. Too often, we find ourselves exhausted and unfulfilled, wondering why our efforts seem futile. In the heart of this truth lies a deep understanding: you and I want many of the same things. We seek peace, fulfillment, joy, and connection. Yet, the reality is that not all of us are willing to do what it takes to manifest the lives we desire. And I completely understand why. Embracing Flow can be challenging. It asks us to trust - something that feels daunting in a world where control has been ingrained in us as a survival mechanism.

So…what has moved me into this state of flow that I’m experiencing ? 

I’ve always been on a path toward truth, purpose, and self-actualization, but something about this year has pushed me deeper into the understanding of what it truly means to flow. I’ve had to surrender to life’s currents and trust that everything is working for my good, even when it doesn’t look like it.

One of the most significant moments that catalyzed this understanding was losing Z-Space.

Z-Space wasn’t just a project for me. It was a dream, a vision I had carried in my heart for over a decade. When the opportunity came for us to finally bring it to life, I felt a deep sense of purpose. My partner and I invested so much into it - our time, our energy, our finances - all with the intention of creating a space that would offer educational and collaborative opportunities to the creative sector. It felt like a culmination of everything I had worked for, everything I believed in.

Then, one morning, on my way to my brother’s cremation, I received the devastating news: the government had demolished the very space we had spent a year building and planning for. I remember looking at the message, my heart heavy from grief, and feeling as though I couldn’t bear another loss. My eyes, already tired from crying, welled up again. But in the quietness of that moment, I felt something deep within me whisper, “Flow, girl, flow: God is in motion.”

That whisper was my permission to release - to let go of the need to rationalize or find meaning in the loss. I didn’t need to create a narrative about why it wasn’t meant to be or why it happened. I just needed to feel the weight of it all and let my feelings flow through me, trusting that they were being held in hands bigger than mine - God’s hands.

We launched a crowdfunding campaign to rebuild Z-Space, and while we didn’t reach our target, we were met with love and support from people who believe in our vision. But even with that outpouring of belief, I realized something important: we didn’t need to force the momentum. We could’ve easily found a new space and made a grand announcement, but every place we looked at didn’t feel right. And more than anything, I knew that rushing into something just to say we had “bounced back” wasn’t what was needed.

So, we paused. We made the conscious choice to let go of the pressure to “do” and chose instead to simply be. To sit in the reality of our loss without needing to fix it or make sense of it. To trust that if Z-Space is meant to return, it will, and when it does, it will be exactly as it is meant to be.

This experience has taught me so much about trust and the beauty of surrender. Sometimes flow is not about taking action or making things happen - it’s about being still. It’s about knowing when to let go and when to let life move you, trusting that even in the quietest moments, God is still in motion.

Another moment that truly catalyzed my journey into flow was producing the first-ever Lagos Street Art Festival - a dream I’ve held close for over a decade. It’s not just an event, it’s a platform meant to breathe life into the stories of Lagos, to showcase street art in a way that creates opportunities for young creatives, and to celebrate the culture that pulses through the city’s veins. Our team poured everything we had into it. We crossed every t and dotted every i with the government and other stakeholders, and it felt like everything was finally in motion.

The festival was scheduled for the same week as my brother’s funeral. When I reflect on that now, I realize that there’s no way I could have experienced that dream coming to life the way I’d imagined. We made the decision to move the event to November, and even then, we hit a wall. Despite the reschedule, we encountered delays from stakeholders.

At that point, my partners and I faced a tough decision. We decided to take a step back and do it ourselves, at a time that truly aligned with our vision. We knew the festival was going to happen, but we also knew it had to happen in a way that fulfilled our purpose for it. Not because we forced it, but because it was right. It was a hard decision for me to make because I’m someone who makes things happen. When I announce something, I follow through, and it always gets done. So having not one, but two projects in the same year - both Z-Space and the Lagos Street Art Festival - not go as planned was challenging.

When things like this happen, that little voice of self-doubt creeps in. It says, “Maybe you’re not doing something right. Maybe your blessings have run out. Maybe the universe is telling you something, that this isn’t for you anymore.” It’s so easy to fall into that space of insecurity, to question yourself, your path, your decisions.

But in the midst of all that noise, I heard that quiet whisper again: “Flow, girl, flow: God is in motion.” And in that moment, I surrendered. I let go of caring about what anyone else might think. I didn’t need to make another announcement or explain myself over and over again. The only people I needed to be accountable to were our partners, and they understood completely.

So what if others wonder why the festival didn’t happen yet? So what if someone says, “Yeah, they couldn’t pull it off”? None of that takes anything away from my journey. In fact, it’s added to it. These moments - what others might see as delay, denial, or failure - are just part of the story. And for a storyteller like me, they become the very composition of the journey. Every twist and turn teaches me more about life, about trust, and about flow.

So… where am I flowing to ?

While I’m experiencing this state of flow and recognizing the beauty and joy it brings into my life, there’s something incredibly profound about not knowing exactly where I’m flowing to. And, honestly, that’s one of the most exciting things about this journey. I’ve realized that I don’t need to be hyper-focused on the destination. It’s not that I don’t care where it all ends or lack direction, I absolutely do. But I trust that God has the map. He’s carrying me, and I know I’ll get there - wherever “there” is supposed to be.

I’ve let go of needing to grip the steering wheel. Instead, I’m sitting in the passenger’s seat, eyes open, but not out of fear that something could go wrong. I’m not worried about the car crashing, hitting a detour, or colliding with something unexpected. No, I’m looking at the road simply to take in the view, to enjoy the landscape of life as we drive through it. I’m learning to observe, to marvel at the beauty that surrounds me, and to just be present.

And yes, I don’t know exactly where this journey leads, but what I do know is that I’m becoming a better human along the way. This growth is spilling over into every part of my life - the people I love, the things I create, and the way I move through the world. I feel lighter, calmer, and happier. I feel more successful, not because of what I’m achieving, but because of who I’m becoming.

Opportunities now come to me in ways they didn’t before. People see me deeper than they used to. I’m glowing on the outside because my inner world is filled with joy. My heart has expanded, my soul feels more open to love, and I know that this shift has transformed my relationships and the energy I bring into spaces.

I don’t want to spend my life constantly chasing validation through busyness or striving to prove my worth. I don’t want to miss out on the moments that bring true contentment, the simple experiences that make life rich. Flowing has taught me that life is one big adventure, and while there will be moments that feel like a rollercoaster, I’m at peace knowing that I’m being carried. I feel deeply held in this season of my life, and it fills me with a sense of love, security, and expansion.

So I’m embracing it all. This is the season of flow for me. And while I may not have all the answers, I’m trusting the journey, savoring the moments, and allowing myself to be carried by God’s grace. And that’s what I’m learning - flow is about faith. It’s about letting go and letting God lead, trusting that where I am is exactly where I need to be.

Two things I’d like for you to take away: 

1.  Flow isn’t about forcing things to happen on our own timelines. It’s about surrendering to a deeper rhythm, trusting that God is in motion even when things don’t look the way we envisioned. It’s about letting go of control and knowing that every detour, every pause, every unexpected turn is shaping the story in a way that we can’t yet fully see.

2. I invite you to reflect on your own relationship with Flow. What does it mean to you? What lessons is it teaching you about your own journey? It’s in these moments of introspection and vulnerability that we uncover the beauty of our shared humanity. Share with me in the comments, or write me back!

Love,

Lumina