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The Art of Broken Wood: Why Brute Force Is Killing Your Genius

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The Art of Broken Wood: Why Brute Force Is Killing Your Genius Listen to the episode for this week of Kuiumba We love to sit by the muddy banks and complain about the storm. Look at our households, our ventures, and our exhausted minds. The shelter caved in, the resources feel waterlogged, and the old blueprint doesn't work anymore. So what do we do? We drop our tools, sit in the mud, and drown in the lower emotional loop: Mad at the downpour, Sad about what washed away, and Scared that we don't have what it takes to rebuild. From that paralyzed place, we drown in blame, shame, and guilt. We blame systemic weather; we carry the shame of broken foundations; we carry the guilt of not saving everyone. But Kuumba (Creativity) —burning in its radiant fire of deep Orange—does not ask you for seasoned, kiln-dried timber from the master’s storehouse. Kuumba looks at your mud-soaked reality and asks a sovereign question: What did the flood wash to your feet? Ancient Mangbetu lore tel...
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Political Agenda

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Political agenda My disdain for politics maintains the rhetoric from liars and heretics all breeding new lunatics. Same melody new lyrics new action but same spirit the only reason I fear it is knowing the truth when I hear it. I may pic the poison but brew my own elixir. The lessor of two evils is making myself the fixer. Finding them as the problem and us as the solution. The union of church and state is governmental pollution. I found myself as my savior and found my family as church I find my friends congregating around a basket of perch. I raise my kids from my morals and raise my glass to my bliss. I raise my shades to the sunrise and raise my voice when I'm pissed. I'll raise a question for thinkers the politicians I say to: for those of them that think they're GOD who do you pray to? Preston J. Harrison
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