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The Architecture of Autonomy: Setting the Standard with Kujichagulia

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Check out this episode You were invited to dinner, but the feast is sitting at the very top of a silk-cotton tree. Every time you look up, the host is laughing at your short legs, tossing down fruit skins, and reminding you that the banquet is technically open to anyone who can climb. How many years have you spent staring up at that branch, furious, embarrassed, and trying to learn how to swing from limbs you were never designed to hold? The trap isn’t that the food is out of reach. The trap is that you still believe you need an invitation to eat. When Tortoise finally invited Baboon down to the flat earth, he didn’t use violence, screaming matches, or retaliation. He merely established one non-negotiable rule of the compound: clean hands only at the mat. And Baboon spent the entire evening running back and forth across the soot, washing and re-blackening his paws, trapped inside an environmental loop he couldn't conquer without standing upright. Who programmed the room you are cur...
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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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