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The Cowardice of Isolation: Why Your Safe Space is Actually a Grave

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Checkout Episode Let’s stop lying to ourselves under the guise of "protecting our peace." When life hits the fan, our default modern programming tells us to retreat. We pull back, block numbers, go silent on the group chat, and build walls. We call it boundary-setting. The Ancestors call it what it actually is: fear. In today’s episode of Tha Daily Spark , we are unpacking the sacred principle of Umoja (Unity) through the lens of a devastatingly sharp Nigerian proverb: "In the moment of crisis, the wise build bridges and the foolish build dams." Think about a dam. It’s an expensive, heavy monument built for one reason—fear. It’s designed to hoard, to block, and to keep the water from moving. But what happens to water that stays trapped? It goes stagnant. It breeds disease. It chokes out life. When you isolate yourself from your Tribe because you are Mad, Sad, or Scared, you aren’t protecting your energy; you are building a psychological dam. You are trapping your n...
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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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