More Than Reflections: What Social Media Cannot Hold

People Aren’t Stories, They’re People

I've been reflecting on the difference between how I see myself, how I present myself online, and how others perceive me. As someone who teaches, writes, and creates in a world where "brand" often feels interchangeable with "identity," the space between these perspectives feels both inevitable and profound—a constant presence that shapes how I move through my work and relationships.

On social media, it's easy to curate an image: a careful collage of highlights, crafted captions, polished flyers, and thoughtful posts. The algorithm rewards clarity and consistency with visibility and engagement. Show up as one thing, and keep showing up that way. But the reality of life—the messy contradictions, the quiet moments, the growth that happens in shadow—is infinitely more expansive than any feed can hold.

The truth is that I will never fully know how I am perceived. At best, I can sense glimpses or make educated guesses, but I cannot step into another person's eyes and live within their understanding of me. That is not failure, and it is not even a problem. It is simply the nature of being human—this beautiful, frustrating gap between inner experience and outer expression that defines so much of what it means to exist alongside others.

A teaching I hold close, paraphrased from Dr. Christopher Wallis, says:

"We aren't our stories about ourselves, and others aren't our stories about them. People aren't stories, they're people."

This truth has become an anchor for me, something I return to when the weight of perception becomes too heavy. My self-image, my brand, and the way others view me are all stories—some conscious, some unconscious, all incomplete. They may hold fragments of truth, glimpses of something real, but they are not the truth of who I am. The same is true of every person I meet, every student I teach, every connection I make.

When I remember this, something in me softens. I stop trying to close the gap between perception and reality, because no story—no matter how carefully crafted or lovingly told—can capture the fullness of being alive. What matters is not the story, but the living. Not the narrative we construct, but the breath and pulse and beating heart of a human being moving through the world.

To know this is to be freed from the exhausting weight of performance. I can step into my work, my art, and my service without needing to be perfectly understood or flawlessly represented, because perfection in understanding was never the point. The point is to live fully, to love deeply, and to honor the truth that we are always—always—more than the stories told about us.

That recognition is life-giving. It breathes space into the tight corners where I've tried to compress myself into something more palatable, more consistent, more "brand-able." It reminds me that each of us contains multitudes, that we are allowed to be complex and contradictory and still becoming. We are not brands, we are not images, and we are not projections. We are people, beautifully and messily human, and that is not just enough, it is everything.

Stock Image: The God Brahma - Thailand

It’s 6:30 in the morning in Thailand right now. I just arrived. I took a 15-hour flight to Guangzhou, China, spent 8 hours there, and then continued on to Chiang Mai. I remember being really concerned about the effect of jet lag on my body. When I went to London for a Beyoncé concert, London was 8 hours in the future for me, and the first few days were really challenging. I just slept and slept and slept. Thankfully I had the energy to lead a Black men’s healing workshop with Mandem on the Mat, but only by the grace of God.

Even though it’s the first day here, I’m doing really well. For example, my 15-hour flight from LA left at midnight, and I got to see the sun rise in China. The humidity in Guangzhou and here in Chiang Mai reminds me of New Orleans. I’m so grateful to be here. I’m taking a Yoga Teacher Training at Suan Sati. I’ve been practicing yoga since 2016, became a yoga teacher in 2018, and have taken nearly a dozen continuing education trainings since then. The most comprehensive was a Psychotherapeutic Yoga Teacher Training from Yoga Zama.

What I’m looking forward to the most is consistent practice and consistently eating healthy again, which is something I’m not always great at. The meals at Suan Sati are all plant-based and meat free.

On the flight over here I read an email from Will, the creator of Suan Sati: “It is your turn to be held and nurtured, so soak it up! You give so much to so many, it's time you did something for you. Glad to be a part of that and to share some space with you.” It literally made me cry. For years my organization Black Boys OM has done community work for Black male healing thanks to our partnerships and our network of instructors. One of those partnerships is Suan Sati, and I’m grateful to be able to utilize the fruit of that partnership for my own well-being.

I’m grateful to lock in and be a student again, to explore my love of the lineages of yoga, and to honor the spirit of mind-body-spirit health practice. To remember what embodied liberation means for me, which is rooted in consciously viewing all things as one thing.

On the flight over here I was also inspired to start a podcast where I share a meditation practice and read one chapter from each of my books in every episode. Shout out to Kaylyn for the inspiration to do a personal podcast.

My first episode will release in October and I’ll do one episode each month.

Thanks for reading.