What said about…

ego. On the eve of her born day, What Said buried many grains of wisdom in my hollow mental chasm hoping fruit would sprout from her seeds. The banter went for hours as she volleyed with each of my rebuttals about the influence of ego. As she continually served large portions of soul food, I began digesting her knowledge about shedding the the desires of self in order to gain a true sense of self. Her critique about my desire to constantly make impressions on the world is my ego. Furthermore, my unyielding desire to define myself is driven by my ego bound by influences of others. I do agree with portions of her analysis. However, I do not credit my ego for my uninhibited ambition to leave an impression on the world. Personally, I don’t care be iconic with my contribution. I don’t have to be associated with my contribution in any form or fashion. Honestly, my ego won’t allow me to be proud of my contribution because I’m better than prideful masturbation. I just don’t want to be one of the 5.99 billion people that doesn’t make a difference and doesn’t really count unless it is for a census. Less than 1% of the world’s population contribute to the collective of life. I want to contribute to that collective. I don’t have to become renowned for my creative work, I just want to creatively contribute. I know my work is bigger than me. It is Universal Forces working on the world. For example, Charles Drew’s discovery saves billions of people each year, yet people do not know of him (DISCOVER CHARLES DREW). What said is correct, my ego does play an important role in my journey to discovery. My ego won’t allow me to care about the criticisms and praise that could be bestowed upon me by my fellow humans or my pride. I don’t do things for the sake of recognition from others. I actually believe I’m better than them, so their recognition is expected and means absolutely nothing to me. I do it because I want to do it. In a world filled with constraints and confinement, the ability to do good while being creative without injuring life is the closest that I will ever get to freedom. Don’t get me wrong, I do appreciate a world that constrains the savages with rules, orders, laws, etc. I’m quite pleased to live in a world with repercussions for negativity. For those that live righteously, I want freedom to explore the wonders of the world. Unfortunately, the laws that are used to control the savages are used to control the righteous. We, as Americans, have to develop strong egos to survive the poundings from savage laws and silence opinions that may derail us from achieving our greater selves and freedom. My entire life, I’ve been the outcast that always fitted in. As an outcast, I’ve practiced many years of ego strengthening and the ability to ignore to value what people think. These factors are the catalyst that freed my creative mind. Now, I’m at a point that I want to express this creativity in a manner that contributes to the living collective.

What Said believes that my ego is seeking attention, thus making it seem that I’m putting on aires. In my mind, my putting on aires has more to do with my expression of freedom, hard work, creativity, and desire than making superficial and feeble attempts to get my ego stroked by the masses. Again, my ego doesn’t allow me to value what people think of my personal being. I don’t care if people love or hate me. However, I do want people to admire and appreciate my work, even if they don’t know it is my work like Charles Drew. Paul Robeson is the prototype of what I strive to become. He is the personification of meaningful creative freedom. A man that did as he loved for the betterment of who he loved. It was not his ego that made him want to do everything, to be a part of the 1% that contributes to the world. It was his hunger for excellence, and his thirst to be creative in a world that is proud to be mundane. So, yes, my ego does play a part in who I am while protecting me from others and myself. It is the disciplinarian that waves a finger at me while drilling me, “You aren’t doing this for the praise. You are doing this to be free. Besides, those people don’t matter; they don’t really care about you; the only thing that matters is your work and contribution to the soul collective.” If I lose my ego, then I may give into the pressure of becoming another droid in a mundane world and lose while losing the little bit of freedom that I have in my possession. Once I completely earn my freedom and the human collective understands true freedom isn’t forcing artificial conformity on people, then I will proudly shed my ego and become one with the collective. Until then, my ego is a protection measure for me to repel those that rather kill the loves of my life in order to conform to a bromidic status quo.

Home Coming

Clicking through the images in my mental view-master, I felt the warming sensation of family love. I’m a wanderer that usually doesn’t tread the same path twice, so going home for good isn’t an option. I always think of progress, always think of change. So, my mother’s dream of a prodigal son return will forever remain a dream. I love the people in Kentucky, I love the scenery; however, the neo-conservative and silently confederate ideologies lower repel me from those that I cherish with all my heart. I have a fortunate obligation from the gods to capitalize on the diversely adventurous hand that they dealt me. If I retreat to the insulated confines of Kentucky conservatism, I would be throwing in my hand of privileged and forfeiting my opportunity to ruse death in earning immortality through my legend. I don’t think of life as experiences. I think of life as legend building. For example, many people believe in Jesus, but that belief is solidified when they see his footprints left in Jerusalem on his walk through the city. It is also felt by African muslims that walk the path of Mansa Musa to Mecca. I want to be Mansa Musa and tread the path for others looking for salvation and peace.

I’m at peace with never living in the same place that nurtured my understanding and enlightened my soul. I’m at peace with not living in proximity with my most cherished loved ones. The collective aura of Kentucky keeps me from wanting to live there, but my obligation to succeed definitely keeps me away. I’m at home with my preoccupation to be successful and remain interesting. I’m at home with righteous people, cultured people, and people on successes’ path. I wake up to my homecoming. What do you wake up to?

Born Day

It feels good to be one year away from the Jesus year. I enjoyed the company of family and friends as sauntered through my born day. On a cold and crisp night in September or October of 1977, my parents conceived a life that eventually grew into a man. A man with dreams of grandeur. I’m tired of dreaming. My goal for this year is to live my dreams and eliminate sleep forever. So, I was born awake and die that way.

Disappearing Act

I’ve been away from the digital Universe of words. I cannot point to any particular explanation that led me to give up the typed word. However, I can explain why I’m back to writing. This passed weekend I spoke what a heavenly being. Yes, I said it. I spoke with a heavenly being. Not to sound righteous or spiritually disturbed, I had a talk with someone with very godlike qualities. This person’s aura sliced through the air of darkness like a laser beam racing across the ceiling of a planetarium. As our word stumbles evolved into graceful striding banters, I realized that this magnificent creature was like no one that I’ve encountered. As my advocate, the heavenly creature poked and prodded at my thoughts, pressed me to push my own correlations between life’s experiences and the memories, which I deeply hold. See, we don’t realize is that what we experience is always slightly different than our memorized recollection of the experience. The angel had me dig deep into my mental cavity to pull out hidden jewels. I was digging deeper than a DJ that uncovered a vault of music at J Dilla’s house. As the devil’s advocate, my rebuttals and debate skills become stronger with every blow. I was forced to sharpen my wit and unsheathe my cleverness. It was definitely a conversation between an artist and a muse. With that said, I’m back on my writing adventure like Baron M√ľnchhausen.

This heavenly being, my muse, had me ask “What” of everything that I said. It was pure inspiration for me to craft words together into a collage for her ears. Now, I want to paint surreal abstracts for the metaverse birthed from words and grammatical glue. I’m not just a verbal artist or artisan; I’m a designer. I design high fashion life. I cut and sew my own life line into different parts of the world. I sow a garden of ideas and reap them into a bouquet of lessons. I am the free I am. When I was younger, I wanted to be the greatest man alive. But, being great, doesn’t mean you are interesting and noteworthy. It only means your societal contributions were admired and remembered. Now, I want to be the most interesting man alive. I want to be my contribution to society. I am living to make sure my obituary is a booklet on how to live life versus a piece of paper outlining a horribly boring existence. I’m a human that is thirsty for the good life. This muse made me realize that the good life awaits us all. It is us that needs to make the journey to it. With that said, I would like to thank this muse for waking me up to the wondrous world of words. I thank you for forcing me to become more eloquent in my expressions and communicating my ideas. Ideally, I wish that you would be my coach, my partner, and my savior when I dive into writer’s hell.

The false precepts that blocked my writing, you crushed for me. I thank you for awaking the beast in the face of your beauty. Again, thank you for the conversation. It meant more to me than to you.

Cheers,