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Stop Letting Them Write Your Tragedy: The Sovereign Art of Subtraction

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Stop Letting Them Write Your Tragedy: The Sovereign Art of Subtraction Listen to episode Pull up a chair to the porch, Tribe. Take a deep, intentional breath through your nose, let it drop straight down to your center, and purge all that stale, toxic air you’ve been carrying. It is Tuesday, July 7, 2026, and we are standing square in the deep indigo frequency of Kujichagulia—Self-Determination . Let’s disrupt the regular programming for a second. The world has successfully tricked us into believing that self-determination means doing more . We’ve been conditioned to accumulate titles, stack unnecessary tasks, and contort ourselves to fit into external systems that were never designed to hold our greatness. When those broken systems inevitably strip us of our peace, we fall into a dangerous trap: defining our entire existence by what we are fighting against rather than what we are building . True Kujichagulia demands that you stop begging for external validation. It requires you to har...
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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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