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Stop Begging the Soil: The Subtractive Power of Self-Determination

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Stop Begging the Soil: The Subtractive Power of Self-Determination Checkout the Episode Let’s stop playing small and look at the math of our reality. We’ve been conditioned to look at the Black experience in America and see a graveyard. We look at the red dirt, the historical trauma, the systemic roadblocks, and we think we’ve been buried. But our ancestors knew a deeper truth: the darkness isn’t a burial; it’s a cocoon. A seed doesn’t stand in the dirt begging the surrounding weeds for permission to expand. It doesn’t ask the rocks to validate its identity. Deep within its spiritual DNA, it already holds the absolute, unshakeable blueprint of a giant mahogany or an ancient baobab tree. It is inherently self-governed. That is the raw essence of Kujichagulia—Self-Determination . Yet, too many of us are operating like Princess Natur before she found her power. We’ve allowed the cruel opinions of a broken society to shrink our self-esteem, curving our backs and isolating our spirits. We’v...
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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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