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The Subtraction of Umoja: Why Building the Nation Means Shedding the Armor

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The Subtraction of Umoja: Why Building the Nation Means Shedding the Armor Let’s stop lying to ourselves right at the front door. We’ve been heavily programmed by a hyper-individualistic simulation to believe that growth is always about adding more. We’ve been told we need to stack more titles, collect more individual armor, and hoard more personal validation before we are qualified to stand together. It’s a beautifully designed trap. The matrix wants you isolated in your own personal silo because a single twig is easily snapped. Our ancestral algorithm teaches us a completely different math: via negativa—the power of subtraction. True Umoja (Unity) isn’t realized by doing more; it’s realized by what we choose to shed. We have to scrape off the thick, suffocating buildup of blame, shame, and guilt that keeps us locked in states of being Mad, Sad, or Scared. That heavy baggage makes us toxic to the very people we claim we want to build with. The Lesson of the Seven Sticks: Separate an...
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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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