Edwin's Corner

  It started on a typical day — a bus ride I had hoped would be quiet and reflective. I had a book in my hand, ready to let my mind drift into thought. Then came Gerald — not his real name — a cheerful man in his thirties with a phone, headphones, and an endless supply of noise. He stepped aboard, smiled at the world, and loudly shared his political views while listening to his phone at full volume. Soon, the bus was filled with competing voices — everyone vying for their place in the chaos. I remember thinking: so much noise, so little awareness. When Gerald finally dozed off, I exhaled, opened my book, and hoped the peace would last. It didn’t. A few minutes later, his phone rang, followed by loud laughter and an even louder conversation with a woman on the other end. His voice drowned out the wind rushing past the bus windows. That was the moment I decided to talk to him. What started as curiosity became a mirror — not just into Gerald’s world, but into our collective ad...

  There’s something deeply human about wanting to rest — or reward ourselves — after a long period of effort. After a tough day, we say, “ Let’s unwind.” After a fast, “Let’s eat.” After a win, “Let’s celebrate.” From the caveman who hunted for days and then feasted to the modern man who runs a marathon and finishes it with pizza and beer — our instinct to indulge after discipline has always been part of who we are. But there’s a silent trap hidden in this cycle. As a habit coach, I’ve seen it time and again, and I’ve lived it myself. After a 60-hour fast, I’d eat a simple meal to break it. Then, a snack. Then, another meal was served “to celebrate.” Before I knew it, I had undone half the gains the fast had given me. This pattern made me pause and ask: Why do we undo our own progress? Why does discipline lead to indulgence? Let’s explore what I’ve come to call “The Indulgence Trap.”   The Psychology of the Pendulum The first thing to understand is that the min...

 “ Edwin, the things you’re asking me to do are hard,” my client admitted, leaning back in his chair with that apologetic grin of someone who knows they should—and watches the world move on anyway. I’ve heard that line, or one of its variants, dozens of times: “This week may be difficult... I have job commitments... so the homework will have to wait,” or the more blunt response: “I tried and I couldn’t do it.” And you know what? I get it. What I’m asking you to do—pause, sit with yourself, feel what you’ve been suppressing, dig into the root of your emotions—is uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable. Wading through what you’ve hidden from your conscious mind takes guts. But here’s the main message I want you to understand: Your habits can't change permanently until your core beliefs change. In other words, you can’t create a new life while the old belief recipe remains buried in your subconscious. In this article, we’ll unpack three key points that will shift how you relate to yo...

  Have you ever caught yourself second-guessing your own decisions — even after overthinking for hours? You weigh every option, consult your friends, pray, journal, and maybe even watch a motivational video, and yet, you still feel anxious. If that sounds familiar, welcome to the human race. Most people don’t realize this: our anxiety often stems from not trusting ourselves . We project that mistrust onto the world. We assume that people will disappoint us, that opportunities will fail, or that life will go wrong in some way. But often, what we’re really saying is, “I don’t trust me to handle it.” And that’s the root of so much emotional unrest. Self-trust isn’t something you decide once — it’s something you build . Like muscles, it grows with consistency, not wishful thinking. One model that profoundly helped me understand this comes from Stephen M.R. Covey’s “The Speed of Trust.” Covey describes trust as a straightforward yet powerful equation: Trust = Character (Integr...

When we were kids, celebrating came easily. I still remember how Christmas used to feel as if magic was in the air. We didn’t just wait for presents; we waited for the feeling to come. The smell of chapati and nyama choma, cousins running around, and laughter that didn’t need permission. We didn’t realize at the time, but we were learning something more profound : that what we celebrate shapes who we become. As adults, many of us have forgotten that rhythm. We have exchanged meaning for marketing. We celebrate what the calendar tells us to celebrate—Easter sales, Valentine’s discounts, Mashujaa Day memes—and somehow, the spark feels dimmer each year. The truth? What and how you celebrate reflects what you truly value. The Celebration That Shaped Us Let’s start at the beginning. Growing up, Christmas wasn’t just a holiday; it was an event. We looked forward to it with anticipation that made the year easier to get through. The story we heard was simple: family, food, and fun. A...

 I recently completed a six-day water fast—yes, 120 hours without food or anything but water—and as I sit here about to break it, I’m struck by how much dopamine actually influences our days. Not in the “I’m on a sugar high” kind of way, but in the quiet moments: the pull toward what feels easy, the push away from discomfort, the internal conversation we barely notice. During that fast, I realized something: we are wired to act emotionally and avoid what feels uncomfortable or uneasy. For someone like me—an introvert who has spent years forcing myself to make a certain number of phone calls daily—it became painfully clear how the “reward” part of my habit loop was often missing. Let me set the scene. Every day, I call ten people. Some days I get excited responses; other days I hear nothing. It’s the latter that always throws me off: the lack of instant feedback, the increasing feeling of rejection or disappointment that sneaks in over time. It wasn’t making the calls that was t...

  I’ve been wrestling with a question lately—one that quietly sits in the corners of my mind: Where did all this conflict between men and women, ego and love, power and compassion actually start? For a while, I thought it was a modern issue—something shaped by patriarchy, religion, and feminism clashing. But the more I’ve read, reflected, and sat in silence with these questions, the more I realize—it’s ancient. It started long before us. And the remnants of that story quietly persist in our behaviors, relationships, and habits today. When I recall that old story of the first man and woman, I see it not just as a tale about disobedience or sin—it’s about emotional awakening. It’s the first time humans experienced shame, blame, and separation. Before that moment, they were united with themselves, each other, and the Divine. Afterward, they hid, pointed fingers, and embarked on a long journey into the wilderness of ego. That was the real start of our emotional conditioning—the...