Mothers and The Magic Between

Lost In The Algorithms — Odyssey # 66

After demolishing a sinful 6,000-calorie feast to celebrate snagging my pro card, today’s vibe is stumbling back towards what you might call normal — if “normal” is even a thing when you’re dancing on the razor’s edge of new beginnings and eye-popping revelations.

Success?

That elusive beast, always cloaked in resistance, whispering seductively to push harder, evolved beyond the limits of yesterday’s dreams.

As Mother’s Day unfurls, my mind drifts back to the OG, my mom. This morning’s reflection hit me hard, revealing how much of my old fears were legacy burdens, relics passed down from a family lineage steeped in survival tactics.

Moms sow the seeds of our worldview, often defining our battlegrounds before we even realize we’re drafted into the war.

Growing up, life was a relentless hustle, a narrative I’ve unpacked in my book Nowhere to Go. My parents mastered the art of surviving, their lives scripts written amidst chaos. But now, cruising through my 40s, the fog lifts a little more each day, revealing the depth of their sacrifices, the fierce love woven into every hard choice.

Most of us never pause to dissect how our upbringing molds our thoughts. We don’t shine a light on…