The CBN Is the Thermometer. Here Is the Fever. If Nigeria wants lower interest rates, we need to stop looking at the CBN Governor Cardoso — with the greatest of respect — it is not you. I can already https://t.co/FDq4Gby0It
@sluvity_____ A supportive family can quietly change the trajectory of someone’s entire life through stability, encouragement, emotional security, and belief during difficult moments.
Many people never realize how valuable that truly is.
There's a physicist at Stanford named Safi Bahcall who modeled this exact principle and the math is wild.
He calls it "phase transitions in human networks." When you're stationary, your probability of a lucky event is limited to your existing surface area: the people you already know, the places you already go, the ideas you've already been exposed to. Your opportunity window is fixed.
When you move, your collision rate with new nodes in a network increases nonlinearly. Double your movement (new conversations, new cities, new projects) and your probability of a serendipitous encounter doesn't double. It roughly quadruples. Because each new node connects you to their entire network, not just to them.
Richard Wiseman ran a 10-year study at the University of Hertfordshire tracking self-described "lucky" and "unlucky" people. The single biggest differentiator wasn't IQ, education, or family money. Lucky people scored significantly higher on one trait: openness to experience. They talked to strangers more, varied their routines more, and said yes to invitations at nearly twice the rate.
The "unlucky" group followed the same routes, ate at the same restaurants, and talked to the same 5 people. Their networks were closed loops. No new inputs, no new collisions.
Luck isn't random. Luck is surface area. And surface area is a function of movement.
The lobster emoji is doing more work than most people realize. Lobsters grow by shedding their shell when it gets too tight. The growth requires a period of total vulnerability. No protection, no armor, soft body exposed to the ocean.
That's the cost of movement nobody posts about. You have to be uncomfortable first. The new shell only hardens after you've already moved.
In Jesus, we see a God who has gone through it completely with the scars to show, and so when that God gives you advise about how to deal with betrayal, you listen because he survived and restored all his disciples who betrayed him, you can listen to him, because he gets it.
I spent 4 years paying my younger sister’s school fees. Every single kobo.
The day she graduated, she gave the acknowledgement speech and thanked everyone except me.
I sat in that hall and felt my soul leave my body 😭.
When she got admission, things were tight at home.
I had just started my first job.
I told our parents, "Don't worry. I’ll handle it." And I did.
Every semester. No breaks.
There were months I was eating 0-1-0 so her account wouldn't run dry.
I never told her. I didn't think I needed to.
Graduation day, she looked beautiful. The first graduate in our family.
I was prouder of her than I’ve ever been of myself.
Then she got the mic.
> She thanked God. (Fair).
> She thanked our parents. (Expected).
> She thanked her friends who kept her sane.
> She even thanked her HOD.
Then she sat down.
My mother looked at me. I smiled and looked away, but the clapping felt like it was happening in a different room.
I didn’t say anything that day. Or the week after.
But something in how I moved changed.
I stopped volunteering. Started waiting to be asked. Started noticing who actually noticed me.
People say, "Don’t give to be recognized." I agree to an extent.
But there is a thin line between not needing applause and being erased by the person you bled for.
That's not humility. That's invisibility.
We’re fine now. I brought it up six months later, calmly.
She cried, and said she was nervous and blanked.
Maybe. Maybe not 🤷
But I learned something either way.
Sacrifice without communication creates invisible resentment.
Tell people what you are carrying for them. Not to guilt trip them. But because silence makes martyrs, and martyrs make bitter people.
This same dynamic shows up in dating every day.
You’re playing the provider or the supporter in silence, while your partner thinks you're just an oil money that never runs dry.
Stop accepting the bare minimum of gratitude. If they don't see the sacrifice, they won't value the person making it.
Has someone ever made you feel invisible in a relationship after everything you did for them?
Let’s talk below.👇
In honour of my doctoral supervisor, Prof Biodun Jeyifo, who was laid to rest this week in Ibadan, Nigeria, his favourite quotation. It used to be on his door, goes on mine now:
"So distribution should undo excess, / And each man have enough." (King Lear, Act 4, Scene 1).
My mum brought food to me every weekend for years in university. There were no cellphones then. I just waited until she showed up and most times I was already hungry and broke.
One weekend at the end of the month when I was completely dry, I waited and she hadn’t shown up by afternoon and I used to live off campus and far from school. I decided to start walking to the campus to see who I could beg for a loan.
As I came out of my road and into a long stretch to campus, I saw my mum walking towards me with a cooler of food on her head. Her car had broken down and she still found a way to come to me even if it meant walking towards my place.
I still have that image in my head and I am grateful to her for it and every thing else including making sure my business started by helping me off my feet.
My father also did the same thing once when I was out of school and running a business but was in difficulty. His own car was broken too and showed up on a the back of a commercial bike (which were now more common) to bring me foodstuff unsolicited and unplanned. He saved my life then too. He didn’t just stop there, he took me to people who could revive my business at their homes when his car was back working. Someone he helped 20 years earlier finally gave me a break that helped me get our first office and paid rent for a decade.
Parents are the real superheroes.
Victor Osimhen: “I left home with a backpack and two pairs of clothes. The one I was wearing, and a green kit in my bag. Lucky green. We drove to Abuja in the oldest car you can imagine, and we arrived at midnight.
The next morning, the sun came up, and I saw 1 million kids with a dream.
Maybe 1 million is an exaggeration, but not by much. There must have been 900 kids waiting outside this stadium. The first day, I didn’t even get on the pitch. The second day, one of the coaches finally pointed at me.
‘Green shirt. Let’s go. You have 15 minutes.’
Just 15 minutes to change my life. I knew that the only way to impress them was to run. So I ran until I was sweating blood.
I ended up scoring 2 goals in 15 minutes.
I thought that maybe I had a chance. But then the coaches got on a microphone, and they addressed the crowd. They called out some names, and I did not hear my name. Everybody started walking to the parking lot.
My dream was dead. I was just about to get in the car when I heard people shouting.
‘Hey! Hey! The guy in green!’
Huh???
I turned around, and some kids were waving to me.
I pointed to my chest, like in the movies.
Me???
I looked behind me.
‘The guy in green!’
Lucky green.
I ran back over to them, and they said, ‘Hey, the coach wants to see you. The team doctor told him you were the guy who scored two goals. Are you the guy?’
I said, ‘I’m the guy!!! I’M THE GUY!!!!’
I went back into the stadium and the doctor was pointing at me and holding up two fingers.
He said, ‘That’s the kid.’
Two fingers saved me.
If the team doctor didn’t do that, I would not be a footballer today. I would probably be at the bottom of a well.” https://t.co/FJN4VQjsRE
@VictorOsimhen | @Galatasaray | @ChampionsLeague