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The Fist and the Scorpion: Unlocking True Umoja

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  The Thumb insisted nothing could be held down without his weight. The Index Finger swore he was the leader because he points the way. The Middle Finger looked down upon everyone because he stood tallest. The Ring Finger flaunted his jewelry, and the Little Finger claimed he alone knew the secrets whispered in dark corners. Individually, they were extraordinary. But when a heavy calabash of water was placed before them, none of them could lift it. And when a venomous scorpion crawled onto their mat, their isolated brilliance nearly got the entire arm killed. Listen to episode In our homes and communities today, we see the exact same paradox. We have never had more degrees, more personal titles, or more individual leverage. Yet when real pressure touches our collective doorstep, why does our grip slip? Why do our five gifted fingers refuse to curl inward until the poison is already in the bloodstream? What illusion of safety are we clinging to that makes us prefer being exceptional...
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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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