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Title: The Lone Warrior Flex is Killing You: Why Hyper-Independence is the Ultimate Trap

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  Title: The Lone Warrior Flex is Killing You: Why Hyper-Independence is the Ultimate Trap We’ve been hoodwinked into believing that struggling in silence is a badge of honor. Across our neighborhoods, Black men and women are wearing themselves into early graves, carrying the weight of entire worlds on their shoulders, and convincing themselves that asking for a hand is a sign of weakness. That isn't strength. That’s a glitch in the program. On Day 36 of our 70-day Ancestral Algorithm cycle, under the regal purple glow of Umoja (Unity), we are dismantling the lie of the solitary warrior. The system taught us to glorify the isolated figure suffering alone in the dark. But our ancestors saw right through that trick. The Akan elders gave us the raw truth: "Wisdom is like a baobab tree; no one person can embrace it with their arms." Think about that. A single baobab trunk is massive, ancient, and unyielding. It doesn't matter how strong you think you are—you cannot wrap ...
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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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