FEED THE RIGHT WOLF
Every Week, Across London…
Every week, across London, I meet young people in spaces near their homes—cafés, parks, community centres, wherever they feel comfortable. These aren’t just conversations; they’re intense, one-to-one sessions, lasting 1-2 hours, designed to challenge, inspire, and shift mindsets.
Some of these young people are standing at crossroads. Some are wrestling with decisions that could shape the rest of their lives. Others are fighting battles no one sees. My role? To help them see beyond the moment, to equip them with the tools to take control of their story.
Here’s an account of a powerful exchange I had recently. One that stayed with me. One that might just stay with you too.
The Crossroads
ST sat across from me, arms crossed, his body still, but his mind restless. His jaw was tight, his fingers tapping lightly against the table—small movements, but they spoke volumes. I’d seen this before.
This wasn’t just about a decision.
This was about identity. About who he was going to be.
"Talk to me, bro," I said, watching him closely.
He exhaled, shaking his head. *"It's mad right now. People are testing me. If I don’t handle it, I look weak."
I nodded slowly. He was standing at the second stage of MANSA's Journey—the Away Stage.
That moment before the moment. The fork in the road where one path is easy, familiar, and lined with people telling you it’s the only way. And the other? That road is harder, full of obstacles, full of challenges—but it’s the one that leads somewhere greater.
"Before you make a choice, let me tell you a story," I said.
The Two Wolves
"Inside every person, there are two wolves. And they are always fighting."
"One wolf is dark. It thrives on everything that keeps you trapped, everything that pulls you backwards.
You want to know what fuels it?"
ST nodded slowly.
"The Dark Wolf thrives on fear—it whispers that you’re not enough, that you’ll fail, so why even try? It feeds on laziness, always looking for shortcuts, the easy way out. It survives on anger, telling you to react, to lash out, to seek revenge instead of wisdom. It grows stronger through jealousy, making you bitter when others succeed instead of inspired."
ST swallowed hard, his body tense now.
"And then there’s ego—the thbbbing that convinces you that power comes from intimidation, not from wisdom. The Dark Wolf thrives on impulsiveness, pushing you to act before thinking, to make choices that lead to regret. It loves excuses, convincing you that failure isn’t your fault, that you can blame others instead of taking accountability.
And you know what the worst part is?"*
ST shook his head.
"It promises instant gratification. It offers fast money, fast respect, fast status—but at a devastating long-term cost. It only knows destruction; it tears down instead of building. And in the end? The Dark Wolf always leaves you with regret. It has you looking back at your choices, wishing you had made different ones."
ST was still, staring at the table. I could tell the words were cutting deep.
"But the Light Wolf?" I continued.
"It moves differently."
ST glanced up, intrigued but hesitant.
"The Light Wolf doesn’t run from fear—it faces it head-on. It moves with courage, always pushing forward despite doubt. It thrives on discipline, showing up every day even when no one is watching. It believes in patience, knowing that great things take time. It carries humility, understanding that growth is a lifelong journey, that learning never stops."
"It lives by self-control—it doesn’t react, it responds with wisdom. It chooses hard work over shortcuts, because it knows true strength is built, not given. It moves with gratitude, appreciating what it has instead of obsessing over what it lacks. The Light Wolf has long-term vision; it plays the long game, making decisions today that benefit the future. It leads with integrity, setting an example for others to follow. And most importantly?"
ST was locked in now.
"It carries peace. It doesn’t chase respect—it carries itself in a way that earns it naturally."
Silence.
"Every day, these two wolves fight inside you. And do you know which one wins?"
ST stared at me. "Which one?"
"The one you feed."
I let the words settle. I could see his mind turning, playing back moments, decisions, regrets. He was seeing the wolves now—not just in my words, but in himself.
"Right now," I said, "you’re feeding the dark one. You’re giving it everything it needs—your emotions, your fears, your reactions. And it’s getting stronger. But what happens if you starve it?"
"How do you do that?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
"You stop feeding it attention.
You stop giving in to anger and ego.
You stop letting people control you by pushing your buttons.
You stop choosing the easy way out just because it’s fast.
You stop chasing respect in places that only want to see you lose. That’s self-control."
ST exhaled deeply. "That’s hard, though."
"Of course, it’s hard," I said. "But you know what’s harder?
Regret.
Sitting in a cell knowing you let the wrong wolf win. Watching your people move forward while you’re stuck. Or worse—losing your life over something that didn’t even matter in the end."
I let that land before shifting gears.
"You watch Naruto?"
His head snapped up. "Yeah, obviously."
"Then you know about the Nine-Tailed Fox."
A slow nod.
"That fox inside Naruto was wild. Uncontrollable. It was destruction waiting to happen. And for years, every time Naruto got angry, every time he lost control, that fox took over. And what happened?"
"It ruined everything," ST muttered.
"Exactly. But when did Naruto become the strongest? When he controlled it. When he stopped letting his emotions run the show. When he stopped fighting against the power inside him and started mastering it. That’s what feeding the right wolf looks like. That’s what self-control looks like."
ST sat back, arms crossed, staring at the table. I could see it—his mind rewinding, replaying choices he had made, times he had let the wrong wolf win.
"So, tell me," I said quietly. "Which wolf are you going to feed?"
He didn’t answer straight away. But when he did, his voice was clear.
"The right one."
I nodded. "Good. Because this? This is your test. This is your moment. The Away Stage is always the hardest because you’ve got to make a choice without knowing what’s ahead. But trust me—if you take that first step on the right path? You’ll thank yourself later."
ST looked up at me, something different in his eyes. Not fear. Not anger. Just understanding.
And I knew—this wasn’t just a story to him anymore.
It was his turn to decide which wolf would win.
The Choice
If you’re reading this, whether you’re a parent, a mentor, or a young person standing at a crossroads—ask yourself:
Which wolf are you feeding?
Because the decision you make today?
It shapes everything that comes next.
The easy road? That’s for the dark wolf.
The hard road? That’s where kings are made.
Choose wisely.