Basil Odilim
Throughout my life, I have traversed a profound journey guided by an unseen force that many find difficult to comprehend. Despite the insights and clarity I gain from this perspective, the feeling of isolation persists when others can’t see what I see. Professors at MIT and Harvard have said to me, “Basil, it’s okay that you don’t fully understand yourself.”
Mustafa Chike-Obi once remarked, “Basil, it’s unbelievable that you don’t know what you possess.” When I met Sixtus in July 2018, introduced by my best friend, he echoed, “Thank God you don’t know who you are.” These voices are numerous, but they don’t grasp that my understanding of myself is limited by something far greater than me. I am not in control of who I am; a force beyond me guides my path.
Even without complete self-awareness, I have always felt a deep, internal certainty that my time will come. I don’t know when or how, but I believe I will witness the full expression of this enigmatic force. This belief isn’t solely due to prophetic voices like Sixtus or Rev. Sister Ochieze, who have foreseen it, but because an inner voice continually reassures me, urging me to stay calm when I am on the verge of breaking down.
Since the late 1970s, I have sensed a tremendous energy within me—often uncontrollable and seemingly unutilized. Decades have passed, and I still do not know where this energy is leading or when I will arrive. As I move through my 60s, I am frequently advised to “calm down” because my time has not yet come, which fuels my sense of urgency and frustration.
Yesterday, I surprised my son and Deji by removing my glasses and effortlessly reading the CNN news ticker. Later, driving without my glasses, I handled the car with a precision that astonished us all. My son asked, “Why did it take you so long to develop this herbal remedy?” I explained that the knowledge had been with me since 2021, but I had only acted on it recently. “Then, why now, Dad?” he asked. I could only tell him that I act when an inner force allows me; otherwise, I can’t. This guidance is beyond his understanding, but it is my reality.
I know I possess the potential to cure cancer at all stages, yet the same inner voice tells me, “Stay silent; your time hasn’t come.” This force also influences my writing and actions in moments of danger, like in Botswana in March 2005, when I was left in a dangerous area. The voice instructed me to “Calm down; nothing will happen to you,” and soon after, a Land Rover appeared to rescue me.
One of the most challenging periods in my life was during my marital difficulties. Sixtus, a spiritual guide, was brought to console and support me through these tough times, assuring me that the Heavens knew this was my most challenging period. Sister Ochieze had previously warned me about the difficulties in my marriage. Their support was invaluable, guiding me through emotional turmoil and providing comfort.
I empathize with those who oppose me because of my writings or speeches against their actions. I cannot warn them of the consequences they will face; I only feel a deep sympathy as I observe them suffer the repercussions of their actions, especially when they attempt to confront me.
My aversion to injustice isn’t about choosing to ignore it; it’s driven by an internal force that compels me to act. It’s not merely a matter of looking away; my guidance drives me to confront wrongdoing. Remember, you owe no one an explanation for who you are. It’s their responsibility to recognize or interfere with what is inside you, not yours to justify or defend.
There are times I feel like running away, but I realize there’s no escaping from myself. I find it challenging to stay in crowds for long periods. The noise, distractions, and misunderstandings drive me back to my sanctuary, where I can connect with my spiritual companions. This retreat is essential for maintaining my connection to the guiding forces.
I can’t warn those who try to harm me about the dangers they face. The only comfort comes from rare moments of internal peace that reassure me that all is well. These moments often arise when I feel like declaring, “Enough is enough.”
Inside me, there is a burning desire to act. I know I have the ability, but I am continually told, “No, it is not yet your time.”
To those who find themselves in similar situations, feeling the pull of an unseen force and struggling with unfulfilled potential, know that you are not alone. Your journey, though unique, is guided by spiritual insight and the quest for purpose.
Embrace your path and trust the process, even when it feels overwhelming. Use your emotional responses to injustice as motivation to advocate for those in need and raise awareness.
Seek understanding and solace within your spiritual confines, where you can connect deeply with your innermost being beyond physical disturbances. This practice will provide clarity and help you comprehend the guidance you receive. Balance sensitivity with self-care practices like meditation, mindfulness, and grounding techniques to maintain your emotional and spiritual well-being.
Retreating into solitude isn’t a weakness but a necessary aspect of your journey that strengthens your connection with inner guidance and rejuvenates your spirit. Continue to trust in your experiences and the guidance you receive, knowing that your truth is valid and meaningful.
This journey requires perseverance, faith, and a relentless pursuit of truth. Though the path may be challenging and often misunderstood by those who cannot understand what you’re going through, it is profoundly significant.
I recognize that some readers might interpret my writing as an attempt to clarify my identity to others who may not fully understand who I am. This is a misunderstanding of my true purpose. My intent is not to seek external validation or to explain myself to an audience. Instead, this writing serves as a form of introspective dialogue with myself.
There are underlying psychological aspects to consider. By sharing these reflections, I engage in a process of self-exploration and self-understanding. This act of introspection allows me to articulate and process my thoughts and feelings in a structured way. It is a personal exercise in self-awareness rather than an attempt to present or defend myself to others.
For readers who identify with my experiences, the shared reflections may offer a sense of connection or validation. They might see parallels between their own experiences and mine, finding comfort or insight in the recognition of shared struggles or perspectives. Thus, the writing is as much about connecting with others who may share similar experiences as it is about my own self-exploration.
