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Stop Bowing to the Weather: The Raw Science of Self-Determination

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Stop Bowing to the Weather: The Raw Science of Self-Determination Let’s stop playing games with our potential. Too many of our people are walking through life functioning as pure biological thermometers—measuring the temperature of the room, absorbing the trauma of the environment, and letting outside chaos dictate their blood pressure, their peace, and their bank accounts. When the block is hot, you panic. When the system acts according to its design, you crash out in despair. When society screams scarcity, you download the fear and replay it at your own dinner table. That is not living; that is reacting. That is letting the scenery convince you that it’s driving the car. On this sacred day of Kujichagulia (Self-Determination), wrapped in the sovereign frequency of royal Indigo, the ancestors hand us an uncompromising reality check: "I determine my destination; the environment is just the scenery." The terrain in America is real. The redlined districts, the hostile courtroom...
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Final GoodBye III- Writing for Healing

His Story is Mine

His story is mines,
Better yet my story is his,
For now I can no longer deal with what was,
Now I have to deal with what is.
A great tree has fallen in the forest of life,
A tree that provided shade for many and a shelter from strife.
But this is not the end of his tory for his story is mine,
And his story will live through his bloodline for all time.
His story is not over because his story is mine, and I need for his loved ones to read between the lines.
Although his body is gone his spirit is strong, that explains why through the pain and confusion he lived so long.
Fear not because his story is not over because his story is mine,
He has made it to peace and he rest with the divine
We are the seeds and saplings grafted from his tree and now he can rest in comfort for his story can be told by we.
His story is not over, because his story belongs to me
For I am a proud branch on his family tree, I will always remember those that came before, those that struggled like no people before.
Like Miles Brown and the lady known as Ms. Ann their stories will live because it was passed to my hands
Like Herman Brown and Rosa lee
Like Geneva and Herman brown the second, and Cleven Brown now can peacefully join their essence
Although his body has now been returned to the earth
His story and their story has been cemented  in  time by Cleven Miles Brown's birth.
His story his mine, his story is ours, his story is ours.
Now tell it.......

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