Vision, Specificity, and the Cost of Faith
Week 3 Journal Entry
Journal Entry is a behind-the-scenes glimpse into my real-time reflections as I build The Nourished Leader. These are unfiltered notes from the journey — raw, alive, and rooted in vision. Think of this as the blueprint before the polish — the becoming before the arrival.
Today I had one of the most powerful reflections in my journey so far—one that finally named what I’ve been carrying: the quiet but constant tension between specificity and surrender. Between clarity and chronic illness. Between the visionary part of me that sees abundance everywhere—and the human part of me that has been through enough to know that everything can change in an instant.
I’ve been reading A Happy Pocket Full of Money, and it’s opened up something big inside me. The book talks about time as an illusion, and the idea that abundance lives in the now—not the future. That we can “tune into” the version of ourselves that already has what we desire. And I believe that. I really do. But the tension lives in the doing.
How do I make a plan without boxing myself in? How do I take action from a place of trust, not fear?
Living with sickle cell has changed how I think about all of this. Losing my eye, navigating the unpredictability of my body—it’s made specificity feel like a luxury. Or at least something that feels costly.
Because when I plan, I also risk the heartbreak of not being able to follow through. Of having to change the plan. Of not being believed. Or worse—of not believing in myself.
And yet, I am choosing to anchor right now. I am choosing to walk in faith. To be specific. To take aligned action. Not because I believe I can control outcomes—but because I believe in devotion. Because I trust that even if my capacity changes, the act of honoring my vision with specificity is not a betrayal of faith—it’s a form of it.
Here is what I received in reflection today:
Plans feel like a luxury—because my lived experience has taught me that control is fragile.
But I am not meant to perform certainty. I am meant to partner with grace.
I am not called to build despite my body. I am called to build with my body.
Specificity is not rigidity. It’s a kindness.
Clarity is not control. It’s communion.
This is not just a plan—it’s a practice. A living blueprint that honors both flare-ups and flow.
This is leadership in its most honest form.
This is nourishment.
I’m choosing to believe that my clarity is not a burden but a blessing. That rest and specificity can coexist. That God can exceed what I imagine, and I am still responsible for showing up with intention.
Today, I define success not by how much I control—but by how much I align.
I am a Nourished Leader.