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The Red Fire of Imani: Stop Hoarding Your Chains and Call It Security Checkout Episode here We are a brilliant, resilient people, but we have a hoarding problem. We hoard trauma. We hoard institutional validation. We stack corporate degrees, credit scores, and middle-management titles like heavy steel armor, lying to ourselves that if we just accumulate enough stuff , the storm won't touch us. We’ve been conditioned to play an additive game—thinking greatness is about what we can add to the script. But our Ancestors knew a deeper secret. True self-mastery is subtractive. It’s via negativa . It’s looking at the heavy, calcified buildup of systemic lies, institutional dependencies, and code-switching, and having the audacity to scrape it off. Look at what we are actually carrying: Blame, Shame, and Guilt. These aren't shields; they are the three heavy chains holding you captive in a low-frequency matrix. They keep you mad at the system, sad about your circumstances, and scared o...
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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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