Prioritizing Safe Ground: Mission Sure Footing.

It feels like the whole world is under pressure right now. Ice storms, unexpected crises, questionable violence, and the emotional fallout that comes with them. Every day, we’re being hit with more than we’re letting out. And when that happens, life gets heavy. We start drowning quietly, going under for the last time while trying to convince ourselves we’re fine.

We tell ourselves the goal is to “stay afloat,” but that’s survival, not living. Staying afloat is convenient because it doesn’t require change — just effort. But effort without direction drains us. Eventually, we can’t tread water anymore.

The truth is, we can’t control most of what’s happening around us. But we can control the small pockets of life that are ours. And that’s where the shift begins. Self‑care isn’t supposed to be a rescue mission; it’s supposed to be a lifestyle. A rhythm. A way of living that keeps us from drowning in the first place.

But lifestyle changes require honesty. And sometimes we have to admit we’re addicted — not to substances, but to busyness, to complaining, to avoiding the truth that comes with change. Evolution is intentional. It’s uncomfortable. But it’s necessary.

Maybe this moment — this global heaviness — is the invitation for us to evolve on purpose. To stop treading water and start choosing the places where we can stand.

REENGAGE-The Final Movement of Restoration.

Reengaging is more than returning to life as usual. It’s the intentional act of reconnecting with the relationships, routines, and responsibilities we set aside when we began the work of Retreating. It’s the moment the journey comes full circle. It’s returning with new wiring, new clarity, and new purpose.

The goal of this journey has never been isolation.

It has always been a transformation.

We Retreat to step away.

We Reflect to understand.

We Restore to heal.

And we Reengage to apply what we’ve learned.

The world around us — our families, our communities, our work, our relationships — needs the wisdom, insight, and renewed energy that comes from this process. Reengaging is a healthy, grounded way to rejoin our routines with zeal, clarity, and a readiness to show up differently

Self‑care language gets close, but it doesn’t fully capture the depth of this. This isn’t pampering. This isn’t a break. This is inner reconstruction. This is soul maintenance. This is checking the wiring beneath the surface.

I remember moving into my office for the first time. I was proud — excited — stepping into a new chapter as an entrepreneur. In that excitement, I bought things I didn’t need: cleaning supplies, scents, and a vacuum cleaner. That vacuum was symbolic to me. It was one of the first items I purchased for my new journey.

But it was also unnecessary, because the building handled all the cleaning.

Still, I rushed in, plugged it in, and started vacuuming everything I could see — even things that had no business being sucked up. And of course… it stopped working.

I was frustrated with myself. Embarrassed. I tried to fix it, but nothing worked. So I took it to a repair shop. The technician plugged it in, inspected the cord, and said, “This is new, right?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“I think the wire is broken on the inside. It’s not getting power to do what it’s supposed to do.”

That moment hit me deeper than he knew.

We often assume our struggles come from the obvious things — the visible mistakes, the surface‑level issues, the things we can point to and say, “That’s why I’m off.” But sometimes the real problem is hidden in the wiring. Something internal. Something we can’t see but can definitely feel.

Retreat. Reflect. Restore. Reengage.

This is our way of checking the wiring.

It’s how we identify the disconnects — spiritual, mental, physical, emotional, or social. It’s how we discover what’s broken beneath the surface. And sometimes, like that vacuum cleaner, we need metaphorical surgery. A patch. A reconnection. A reset. Something that allows us to operate the way we were designed to.

Reengaging isn’t about going back to the same.

It’s about going back powered.

It’s stepping into the world with repaired wiring, renewed clarity, and the courage to live out what the journey revealed.

This is the full circle.

This is the return.

This is Reengage.

So, Plug In, Keep Going!

RESTORE- When Emptiness Speaks.

Restore has been sitting heavily on my mind lately. Maybe because of the work I do. Maybe because of the people I sit with. Maybe because of the quiet truth I keep seeing in their eyes.

I work with all kinds of people — in their good moments, their breaking points, and the places in between. And lately, I’ve noticed something rising to the surface more than anything else: emptiness.

People tell me they feel:

• bitter

• lost

• confused

• numb

• disconnected from joy

And when they use that word empty, I don’t hear weakness. I hear exhaustion.

I picture them pouring energy into relationships, responsibilities, crises, expectations, and endless attempts to “fix” what’s breaking around them. But what they get back… is nothing. No replenishment. No return. Just more depletion.

So where is the hope in all this?

The hope is in the truth we don’t always say out loud: Emptiness is not a failure — it’s a signal.

It’s the body saying, “I can’t keep giving without being restored.”

It’s the spirit whispering, “I need a place to breathe again.”

It’s the soul asking, “When was the last time something poured back into me?”

And that’s why I’m talking about this. Because almost all of us have been here — or will be. We’ve lived through heartbreak, grief, loss, disappointment, overwhelm, and the kind of interactions that drain us more than we admit.

It’s also the reason Lost In My VIBE! exists.

I created this space so people could find new ways to reconnect with themselves — through music, reflection, storytelling, and community. A place where you don’t have to pretend you’re fine. A place where you can breathe, reset, and remember who you are beneath the noise.

Because we all need support, we all need inspiration. We all need encouragement. And we all need restoration at some point in our journey.

Restore isn’t about going back to who you were. It’s about returning to the parts of you that were never meant to be lost.

What part of you has been pouring out more than it’s been receiving — and what would restoration look like for that part of you?

Thank you for stepping into this moment. Whether you reflected, breathed, or paused, I’m glad you were here. Carry whatever you released… released. Carry whatever you reclaimed… with confidence. And remember — your journey deserves restoration. Until next time, keep honoring your vibe.

REFLECT- The Second Movement of Restoration.

Reflection is a process of becoming. It’s the moment in our journey where we pause long enough to look at what life has handed us — the experiences, the emotions, the conversations, the aches, the lessons — and ask, What is this trying to show me?

For me, reflection has always felt a lot like panning for gold. I know… me and my metaphors. But stay with me.

When a miner dips their pan into the water, they don’t pull up pure gold. They pull up everything — rocks, dirt, debris, things they didn’t ask for and didn’t expect. The goal isn’t to keep it all. The goal is to shake, shift, and sift until the unnecessary falls away and the valuable remains.

Reflection works the same way.

Life hands us a lot at once. Some of it is beautiful. Some of it is heavy. Some of it is confusing. And some of it is simply debris — emotional residue from moments that hit harder than we realized.

When we reflect, we’re not digging for gold in the past. We’re sifting through our thoughts and feelings — present or past — to uncover wisdom, understanding, clarity, or a lesson that helps us move forward. We’re looking for the nugget that helps us make sense of what’s in front of us.

And like gold, what we find is valuable.

As a person of faith, reflection for me is never just mental processing. It’s a prayer. It’s a conversation with God. It’s me bringing my full self — my thoughts, emotions, frustrations, hopes, aches, and questions — into His presence without condemnation. Not toward myself. Not toward others.

Reflection is not punishment. It’s not replaying mistakes. It’s not a self‑critique.

Reflection is alignment.

It’s me asking God, What are You showing me? What do I need to understand? What path are You guiding me toward?

It’s the moment where my present self meets God’s perspective, and together we sift through the debris to find the wisdom that leads me back to the right path.

This is why reflection is the second movement of our mission at Lost in My VIBE. After we Retreat — after we step back, breathe, and create space — we Reflect. We sift. We shake. We search. We listen.

Because becoming the “new me” isn’t about reinventing ourselves. It’s about uncovering what’s already there — the gold that’s been buried under the debris of life.

Reflection helps us find it.

🌿 RETREAT — The First Movement of Restoration.

First One of A Four‑Part Mission Series: Retreat • Reflect • Restore • Reengage

When I think of Retreat, my mind doesn’t go to cabins, mountains, or wilderness escapes. It goes back to a weekend years ago when I took my youth ministry on a retreat — a group of inner‑city teens who rarely stepped outside their neighborhoods. We didn’t travel to a forest or a campsite. We went to a prep school far from their usual environment, a place that felt like another world.

They ran across open fields.
They played football, soccer, kickball, even attempted tennis.
They swam.
They laughed.
They breathed differently.

We were served catered meals — breakfast, lunch, snacks, and dinner — and treated with a level of care that felt almost royal. And they loved every minute of it.

But the heart of that retreat wasn’t the activities or the food.
It was the purpose.

We gathered to grow closer to God.
Bible study.
Prayer.
Reflection.
Stillness.

The environment created the space, but the intention created the transformation.

That memory is the blueprint for what Lost in My VIBE! is building.

Our mission is simple and sacred:
Retreat. Reflect. Restore. Reengage.

Each movement is part of a four‑part series designed to guide us back to ourselves — back to purpose, back to alignment, back to the truth we’ve been carrying but haven’t had space to hear.

There’s another kind of retreat I’ve learned to honor — the one that happens in the quiet moments of my own life. When I pause, step back, and let my creativity lead me into a different kind of space.

Drawing, sketching, shaping a Guide, choosing colors, building a world — these aren’t just artistic tasks for me. They’re a form of retreat. A way of slipping out of the noise long enough to hear myself again. My art process is where I slow down, breathe, and reconnect with the deeper parts of my VIBE. It’s where I transition from the outer world into the inner one. It’s where reflection begins.

For me, creativity is a doorway.
A threshold.
A retreat within the retreat.

And that’s why Lost in My VIBE! begins here — with stepping back, stepping inward, and creating space for truth to rise.

Closing Reflection

Retreat doesn’t always require a weekend away or a change of scenery. Sometimes it’s as simple as stepping back long enough to breathe, to create, to listen. For me, that doorway is my art — the moment I pause, pick up a stylus, and let creativity guide me inward. That’s where I retreat. That’s where I reset. That’s where I begin to hear myself again.

Now the question becomes yours:

What is the thing you use to help you step away and retreat?

Because retreat isn’t about escape.
It’s about remembering.

Push - The First Motion of Reach.

I remember my uncle coaching little league and minor league baseball. He had a gift for developing pitchers — not just their arms, but their whole approach. When he trained them, he repeated one phrase over and over:

“Push.”

It wasn’t only about mechanics. Yes, he wanted them to dig in with their legs, drive forward, and send the ball with more force and intention. But it was also something deeper — a call to bring everything inside you to the moment. A call to not give up. A call to extend yourself.

That word stayed with me.

Because “Push” is the beginning of every reach.

It’s the moment where effort meets desire.

Where the body commits before the outcome is known.

Where you decide to move toward what you want instead of waiting for it to come to you.

That’s why Reach exists in the Sanctuary.

His steady glare, his forward lean, his hand stretching toward what’s already within range — it’s the same message my uncle gave those pitchers:

Push.

Extend.

Reach for your goal.

Some thresholds don’t open until you lean into them.

Since You Asked! lol.

Okay, so technically nobody asked. But I know people wonder — especially my mom. So here it is: why I wear beaded bracelets.

Most days you’ll catch me with one, two, or usually three on my wrist. Tiger Eye. Black Obsidian. Lava Rock. Simple. Natural. Nothing flashy. Just part of my everyday rhythm.

And yes — they’re fashion. They’re part of my vibe. But they’re also something deeper, in a quiet, personal way.

These bracelets usher me into the moment. Some people need fidget spinners, stress balls, or something to keep their hands busy throughout the day. These are no different. So no… whatever you’re thinking… it’s just my vibe, man.

Tiger Eye helps me stay sharp and focused. Black Obsidian keeps me centered and clear. Lava Rock reminds me to breathe and stay grounded. Not because I need them to function — but because they help me show up with presence.

And I’ll be honest — I love the sound they make. Sometimes I move my wrist on purpose just to hear that little clank. It’s like my own quiet reminder that I’m here, I’m present, and I’m in my rhythm.

When they start to bother me, I take them off. Sometimes right after an event, almost like a soft exhale. They’re not a crutch. They’re not a coping mechanism. They’re just a small part of how I express myself — a sensory cue, a grounding ritual, a piece of my uniqueness.

So yeah… that’s the story. Not deep, not dramatic — just me being me. If you see the bracelets, just know I’m in my zone. lol

Spoi-LD & BLESSED: When Rest Becomes Revelation

I was down. Stretched at work. Grieving family loss. Missing opportunities. Helping others while my own voice grew quiet. I tucked it all away and kept moving-until I couldn’t.

Then came the pause. The nap. A breath. And then four works of art poured out of me. Two became stickers: Spoi-LD and BLESSED.

That night, God reminded me: I’m not forgotten. I’m not forsaken. I’m blessed. Spoiled by grace, held by mercy. And even in the ache, I can create.

This piece isn't just graffiti- it's gratitude. A visual alter to the blessings I almost missed. And a reminder that rest is sometimes the most sacred move we can make.

“Spoi-LD: A Nap, A Nudge, A Revelation”

I was tired. Not just physically—but emotionally, spiritually, creatively. Life had handed me a laundry list of complaints, and I was holding them all. So I took a nap.

What happened next wasn’t just rest—it was revelation.

I woke up with a burst of energy and a divine whisper: You are blessed.

That whisper led me to Spoi-LD.

She was the most recent piece of art I created, but her presence felt ancient—like she’d been waiting to be drawn. Alongside her came BLESSED and two others, all born from that same nap. That moment of exhaustion became a portal. And what emerged was prophetic graffiti.

Drawing Spoi-LD reminded me that I am a spoiled child of God—not in entitlement, but in abundance. I have so many blessings, and at the time, I didn’t even realize it. Before the nap, I was full of complaints. Afterward, I remembered the grace. It felt like I had been talking to God in my sleep, and awoke with a divine nudge: You are blessed.

Psalm 23 echoed through her lines:

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not be in want.”

Because He provides all that I need.

Spoi-LD is a visual relic of that revelation. Her name carries layers—spoiled, split, sacred, and still divine. She reminds me that I’ve been well cared for, even in moments when I didn’t see it. That I have more than most. That restoration can come through rest.

A Soulstream Invitation

Spoi-LD reminded me of something I needed to remember. And now I want to ask you:

Do you have an object, a moment, or a memory that reminds you that you are BLESSED?

Maybe something that revealed how well you were cared for—by God, by someone you may have overlooked, or even by grace itself?

If you feel led, share it in the comments. Or just sit with it quietly.

This space is here for that kind of reflection. For that kind of restoration.

Thank you for being here—intentionally or by divine accident.

You are seen. You are held. You are BLESSED.

🔗 lostinmyvibe.com

The Soulja Bear: Born for Battle, Forged in Frustration.

He wasn’t created in celebration. He was made in the chaos.

I proposed The Soulja Bear for the Month of the Military Child—a tribute to those who grow up in the shadow of duty, sacrifice, and strength. But I missed the deadline. Life pressed in. My schedule overflowed. Family demands are stacked like sandbags. And frustration, irritation, and disappointment became the emotional terrain I was walking through.

That’s when he showed up. Not as a polished campaign. Not as a perfectly timed release. But as a relational relic—a muscle-bound guardian with camo pants, boots laced tight, and a posture that said, “I’m ready for duty, even when the world isn’t.”

The Soulja Bear was born in the tension. He carries the ache of missed moments and the grit of showing up anyway. He’s for the ones who feel stretched thin but still stand tall. He’s for the child who watches their parent deploy. He’s for the parent who feels like they’re failing but keeps fighting. He’s for the creative who missed the calendar but didn’t miss the calling.

💥 Soulstream Call to Action

If you’ve ever felt like you were fighting battles no one sees, Soulja Bear sees you.

He’s always up for duty—and so are you.

The trail I didn’t mean to take.

I didn’t plan to be on that trail.

It was tucked behind the resort in Orlando—shady, overgrown, quiet in a way that felt sacred and unsettling. I found it by accident, and by the time I saw the warning sign, I was already too deep to turn back.

“DANGER: Alligators and snakes may be in the area. Stay away from the water.”

I had heard the splash the day before. I knew what it was. But there I was, standing in the middle of a trail that felt more like a metaphor than a mistake.

I kept walking.

Not because I was brave. Not because I was reckless. But because something in me knew this was about more than Florida wildlife. This was about the journey I was about to take in my life—alone, uncertain, and surrounded by unseen threats. And I had to decide: would I trust myself, or would I trust God?

That trail reminded me of what trust really looks like. It’s not polished. It’s not always peaceful. Sometimes it’s pressing forward when everything in you wants to turn back. Sometimes it’s walking through the places where fear lives and choosing not to feed it.

I’m not glorifying danger. If you see the sign, get to safety. But if you’re already on the trail—if you’re already in the middle of something you didn’t plan, can’t control, and don’t fully understand—this is for you.

You’re not alone. You’re not forgotten. You’re not foolish for feeling afraid.

But you are invited to trust. Not in your instincts. Not in your strength. In the One who sees the whole trail.