CLARITY

Last night, my childhood friend Dre and I had one of those conversations that only happen when the world slows down. We was high like a motherfucker — no point pretending otherwise — but beyond the euphoria, something cut through the fog with surgical precision. Clarity. Not the loud kind. The quiet, undeniable kind that sits in your chest and refuses to leave. I had to write about it. My fellow lost ones, in life, clarity matters.

The ability to know what to do, when to do it, how to do it, and where to do it cannot be overemphasized. Many people are busy. Many are talented. Many are hardworking. Yet few are clear. And clarity is the difference between motion and progress. Take Stephen Curry. Anywhere on the court, the shot looks effortless. Yes, he started young. Yes, his father played in the NBA. But beyond practice and privilege, there is something deeper at work. Watch him play and you know — this is alignment. This is a man doing what he was meant to do on this earth. Nothing else would have fit this well. Or look at Lionel Messi. Grace. Beauty. Precision. The ball obeys him like it knows his name. I genuinely believe that if Messi had chosen another path, he would have struggled. Not because he lacks intelligence or discipline, but because this — football — is his lane. And that brings me to the heart of this reflection.

One of the fastest ways to fail in life —or to move painfully slow — is doing what you are not meant to do. Yes, human beings are adaptable. With enough effort, we can become competent at many things. But competence is not the same as calling. Each of us carries something peculiar, something specific, something that fits us the way skin fits bone. Pastor E.A. Adeboye was a brilliant mathematician. He was on track to become the youngest vice chancellor in Nigeria. An incredible career path. Truly. But it wasn’t his assignment. He was meant to preach. He was fortunate enough to discover that early — and bold enough to obey it. James Hadley Chase served in the Royal Air Force during World War II and rose to the rank of squadron leader. Impressive by all standards. But when you hear his name today, you don’t think “soldier.” You think “writer.” That was the thing that carried his essence. That was where his voice made sense. This is what differentiates us, all of us — not talent alone, but clarity. Knowing what we are meant to do, and being positioned in an environment where that thing can breathe.

I know people who were meant to be footballers — Dre being one of them, but because of family expectations, geography, or survival, they became bankers and traders. Are those honorable professions? Absolutely. But they will never excel there the way they would have in their true lane. And it’s hard to assign blame when poverty is loud and hunger is urgent. Survival often forces passion into silence. There is also the matter of timing. Some paths are brutally time-bound. Curry started at three. By thirty-five, footballers are retiring. No club signs a thirty-year old beginner. Even in corporate spaces today, age limits quietly shut doors. Miss the window, and it closes without apology. This is why clarity is not a luxury — it is a blessing. 

Clarity saves time. Clarity conserves energy. Clarity prevents regret. It allows you to say no without guilt and yes without fear. It helps you recognize distractions dressed up as opportunities. And perhaps most importantly, clarity demands honesty. The courage to ask yourself: What am I actually good at? What gives me life? Where do I feel most myself? Not what pays fastest. Not what looks impressive. Not what pleases people. Clarity does not guarantee ease — but it guarantees direction. And in a world where so many are running without knowing why, direction is everything.

It's 3:51am Nigerian time and the world is very quiet.