The mind is a funny thing in how it works. Sometimes you have to

When Case Keenum spoke the words, “The mind is a funny thing in how it works. Sometimes you have to tell yourself what’s really true. If you don’t, your mind starts trying to tell you lies,” he was not speaking as an athlete alone, but as a philosopher forged in the furnace of struggle. Behind those words lies the ancient battle between truth and illusion, between the soul’s wisdom and the shadows of doubt that creep into every human heart. His insight is both humble and eternal, for it names the quiet war that all men and women must fight within—the war for mastery over the mind.

Keenum’s journey gives life to his wisdom. He was a quarterback who went undrafted, told by the world that he was too small, too slow, not good enough to stand among the giants of his sport. Yet within him burned a steady flame of conviction. There were days when failure whispered louder than hope, when the mind’s lies—the voices of fear and unworthiness—tried to drown out the truth of his calling. But Keenum learned what every warrior must learn: that the battlefield is first within. And so, he spoke truth to himself when no one else would. He told his mind that he belonged, that he was enough, that his path still had purpose. And in time, belief turned into strength, and strength turned into victory.

The mind is indeed a strange and powerful instrument. It is both a servant and a tyrant. Left unguarded, it begins to craft illusions—whispers of inadequacy, fears of failure, falsehoods dressed as reason. The ancients called this the “inner serpent,” the deceiver that lives in the thoughts of man. It tells you that you are broken when you are whole, forgotten when you are loved, defeated when you are merely delayed. And so Keenum’s warning is sacred counsel: if you do not speak truth to your own mind, it will speak its lies to you—and you will believe them.

Consider the story of Marcus Aurelius, emperor of Rome and philosopher of endurance. Surrounded by power, war, and constant turmoil, he wrote to himself in his private meditations: “You have power over your mind, not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.” Even an emperor had to remind himself of truth, for his mind too could stray into fear and confusion. He understood that discipline of thought is the beginning of freedom. The mind can be the source of torment or the birthplace of peace—and only through deliberate truth can one make it serve the soul.

Case Keenum’s wisdom, though born on the football field, belongs to all who have faced adversity. The lies of the mind are not reserved for the defeated—they come for the strong as well. They whisper to the mother who doubts her worth, to the artist who questions his gift, to the leader who fears he cannot bear his burden. Yet the cure is always the same: to anchor oneself in what is true. You must speak truth aloud—even when your heart trembles. Say, “I am capable.” Say, “This pain will pass.” Say, “I am not defined by fear.” For truth, once spoken, has power; it clears the fog and reclaims the throne of your inner kingdom.

The mind must be trained as a horse is trained—not with cruelty, but with constancy. Feed it truth daily, and it will serve you faithfully. Neglect it, and it will wander into wild fear. The ancients knew this well. The stoics meditated upon truth each morning; the monks recited prayers not only to the heavens, but to their own hearts. They understood that truth must be repeated, for the mind forgets and must be reminded. So too must you remind yourself, as Keenum did, of who you truly are—especially when life tells you otherwise.

So hear this counsel, children of time: guard your thoughts as a king guards his treasure. Do not let lies live in your mind unchecked. When fear says, “You cannot,” answer, “I already have.” When despair says, “You are lost,” reply, “I am only being guided.” When doubt says, “You are unworthy,” proclaim, “I am chosen for this path.” For the mind may be funny, but truth is fierce—and it will always outlast the lie.

Therefore, take this lesson into your days: be the keeper of your own truth. Speak it, write it, live it. Do not wait for others to affirm you—be the voice that calls yourself home. For as Case Keenum learned, the greatest victory does not begin on the field, nor in the world outside—it begins within, when the mind bows once more to the truth of the heart.