Love Is . . . Tangible

Betty Wright had this song way back called "Love Is." One morning I woke up with it on my mind. It led me to reflect on what "real" love is about. Not the word "love" that's tossed around so much in Amerikkan culture it has become as rancid and empty as the morals of Amerikka, but a love that provides tangible benefits to those who fall beneath its wings.

So, thanks to inspiration from a song heard long ago, I've developed my own definition of that often-misunderstood and -misused term; one that also stayed on my mind, as the song did a mental rotation:

Love should be defined, not so much through a host of feelings and emotions, as through the commitment and application of ourselves to the task of doing any and everything to preserve and secure our people, our culture, our traditions and, therefore, our future.

That's love, quantified.

~evolve~

Me? Apologize?

A good many Blacks/Afrikans get all apologetic when it comes to vicious attacks by people of caucasoid persuasion. The caucasoid does the bad deed, and Afrikans jump up, quick to forgive, especially if television cameras are rolling. I consider this being apologetic against our own best interests. Not only that it diminishes our power when pitted against other peoples.

We do not owe any other group of people walking the face of this Earth an apology. If there is to be any apologizing, it should come from them. Not that I'd be accepting of it, considering their history of superficial- and pacification-based apologies, but still in all, the Black man, woman and child owes no one else an apology, with the exception of other Black men, women and children.

So, why is it that we are quick to make nice with those who have historically pounced upon us during our most vulnerable periods? Is there some type of chip implanted in our skulls that continues to make us give them a pass?

Is it like Brother Amos Wilson said that "what we [Blacks/Afrikans] need to get over most is our cowardice?" Or is it we've been taught wrong for so long, we think wrong is right? Or a mixture of both?

Go figure . . . just don't take too long doing it. We don't have much time. And, for that, I apologize.

Healthcare Reform (in 3 paragraphs)

The only winners in the so-called healthcare reform taking place in this country will be the health insurance providers, doctors (i.e., knife wielders, drug dealers), allied corporations (wheelchair, cane, oxygen, etc., manufacturers and distributors, hospice, rehab), drug dealers (i.e., drug manufacturers, pharmacists, prescribing doctors) and stockholders. The disparities in healthcare so prevalent in Amerikka will continue and more than likely grow given the larger percentage of "bodies" available for experimental "treatments," as will the ill health brought on by misdiagnosis, mistreatment, etc.

Iatrogenics, anyone?

The only difference between now and what will occur is that Amerikkans will be forced to pay into a system that puts the nail in their coffins, while at the same time providing substantial dividends to those who are least concerned about keeping Amerikkans healthy.

Wait, that almost sounds like the current day, save the added body availability and forced-payment system mentioned earlier.

No More Fight

"My people are use-sah-less. My people are sen-sah-less."

The words to that song are on repeat in my head. And it is because, to a certain extent, I can't disagree. I mean, how long can we hard-heartedly seek to destroy each other and not be seen as beasts of our own making, as being "use-sah-less," as being "sen-sah-less?"

There's something I haven't admitted before, but I must today: I'm tired of Black people.

And this is just the beginning of that tiredassedness:

• I'm tired of their talking, talking, talking, but never doing a damn real thing to change the situation.
• I'm tired of their broken promises to each other.
• I'm tired of them lying, cheating and stealing from their own.
• I'm tired of them not patronizing Black business, but doing everything in their power to sacrifice all other groups of people out of poverty.
• I'm tired of standing next to Black women with straight synthetic weave and kinky hair roots, whose brains are wide-open spaces.
• I'm tired of Black women with loud mouths but nothing meaningful to say.
• I'm tired of the way Black people treat each other.
• I'm tired of their recalcitrant stupidity.
• I'm tired of their feigned ignorance.
• I'm tired of them begging their enemies to accept them, yet treating their brothers and sisters like shit.
• I'm tired of them ripping each other apart.
• I'm tired of our women that have no decorum or self-respect.
• I'm tired of our young boys walking around with their pants dropped to their fuckin' knees and the oversized duck-bill hats that make them look like clowns.
• I'm tired of Black girls/women producing babies and letting the streets raise them.
• I'm tired of Black people not taking care of their business.
• I'm tired of Black men walking out on their babies, because they're still boys themselves.
• I'm tired of Black women sleeping and procreating with manboys.
• I'm tired of Black people giving freely of their money to all the places that don't need it and ignoring those that do.

I'm just tired. I don't want to fight for Black people anymore, because Black people been stopped fighting for Black people. From this day forth, I concentrate my efforts only on my family and closest acquaintances. All others will have to fend for themselves--which they've proven they'd rather do anyway.

Woooooosahhhh . . . now, that I've purged those thoughts, I feel a little better. Just a little. But I know this, I can't say that I'm any longer in the Black-saving business. That shit is hard on a person's health, mentally and physically.

Get Down with the Get Down

That's what I want to tell Black people. All that shucking and jiving won't change the state we're in, and that seems to be the only thing the majority of Black folks are interested in.

Now, Nandi, there you go talking down your people. Are you sure you ain't a caucazoid pretending to be Black?

Nah, you see Nandi been around this sphere of influence for a while. There was a time when I believed that my people were truly just victims of circumstance. That the "white"* man was doing everything in his power to keep that foot on their neck--and that they just couldn't break free, but if they did, shit would be different.

But it ain't all that. Well, it is, but not all. You see, there are those of my people who like that foot penetrating their windpipe. Matter of fact, they twist and turn their bodies to accommodate it, even hollering out "Sir, I'm an Army officer," as their head gets kicked the fuck in and their 7-year-old daughter stands nearby, watching in horror.

I wonder if that child thinks these thoughts at night: "Damn, mama got her ass kicked, and she didn't even try to defend herself," "How can mama protect me, if she can't protect herself?"

While I hope that ain't the case, the mother of this child could use some serious talking to. She needs to know that you don't believe for a second that your connection to your massa is going to save you from an ass-whipping from massa's overseer. It ain't like you the prized stud on the farm. In his eyes, you still a nigga.

Who was that? Trick Daddy, I believe? "You can have a college degree--still a nigga." I think it went something like that. So, I say we, those of us with the testicular fortitude, need to show them caucazoids what it's like when we "get down with the get down," James-Brown style.

"These people ain't bedda than me. No way, they're bedda than me. I could teach them, but I'd have to charge." (Sang to the rhythm of that awful song, Milkshake, by Kelis.)

They ain't ready for this.

Stay strapped, Black people. Stay ready.

*I have yet to meet a WHITE person. I've looked. They don't exist. Pale skin, melanin deficient, pigmentation lacking, yes, but WHITE, no.

Afrikan House on Fire

There's the e-mail advising veteran's not to support Target, because Target doesn't support veterans. There's the e-mail advising Blacks to call Rush Limbaugh to the floor, because Rush insulted Obama and Halle Berry, and he just might be a racist.

There are more e-mails, too many to mention in such tight confines, but they all serve the same purpose: a distraction from what Black people really need to be concerning themselves with.

In response to the first e-mail, I sent the following reply to the sender:

I'm just thinking about how many other corporations we should not be doing business with. What also comes to mind is how many smaller businesses we shouldn't be supporting either. And I'm not thinking of this from a veteran's perspective, of which I'm considered to be, but from a Black perspective. Let's handle home before we attempt to handle Target. Start small, spread the love.

You see, that's one of the major problems facing Blacks. We spread ourselves too thin, trying to put out everybody else's fires, while ignoring the 3-alarm blaze burning on the home front. Do we do this as an escape from our real reality, or are we just so blinded by the manipulative forces at work that we run scatterbrained from one "emergency" to the next?

For all the "conscious" folks nodding in agreement, don't nod too hard, because you're just as guilty as those who "don't know better." At every Afrikan-centered event, so-called conscious folk show up for a feelgood ceremony, in which lectures, panels, debates, discussions and fish dinners have replaced Sunday morning service.

There, they complain about the non-progress of Blacks as a whole. They reflect on Afrikan history, share the glorious history of Afrika and put out a call for everyone in attendance to come together in honor of Afrikan history--unify or die! What's usually left out of these highly intellectualized and charged festivities is a critical analysis of Afrikan history, most significantly concerning where we, as Afrikans, went wrong and how we can now do it right.

Outside of those conscious audience members are the speakers, sometimes consciously and unconsciously vying for the most quotable quote. Each saying a whole lot, yet saying nothing. At least, not anything most "conscious" folks who follow the lecture circuit haven't heard before.

Every now and then, a lecturer with an understanding of the gravity of what lies ahead steps to the podium and proves the theory that even a large majority of conscious folks don't want things to change, because if they did, when this brother and sister puts out a call to pool resources, time, etc., these individuals would heed the call. Instead, they disappear into the backdrop until the next event.

Mind you, this is not found in all Afri-centered events, but quite a few that I have personally attended. And it seems I'm not the only one who has recognized our new dog-and-pony show, as other Afrikans have presented with the same dilemma. They want to believe in their people, that their people want to build and grow, but some of our people make it damn hard, especially when someone calls for solution-based action and nary a hand raises but theirs and the person who called for a solution.

What many of them don't do is what they don't do at home: take a critical look at what has worked and what hasn't. In the end, the lectures, panels, debates, discussions and fish dinners end the same way they began--with nothing accomplished.

These same people, if we were to follow them home, would be found to be living a life of total chaos, their homes reflective of their minds.

That is why I propose that Afrikans go back home. And by go back home, I mean to the walls they retire to each day. The place where the closest family they can have are to be found. Not only go home, but spend time with these members, develop bonds, increase the love and sharing, clean house--mentally and physically.

In other words, work on home first. Once you've mastered home to the best of your ability and have something concrete to offer, with a vision and action attached, gather your home-front family together and, together, go out and spread the love. That is how a community comes together. That is how true unity comes into being. But it won't happen until we go back home.

Save the Children, Save Ourselves

Helplessness, accompanied by a strong dose of rage, is the general feeling I get when I look back on the history of Blacks since our initial encounters with caucasoids. I feel helpless, not because I fear them, which I don't, but because it seems my people do not see them as the greatest instigators of Black pain and suffering.

I feel this way because if I were present when Malcolm was gunned down, when Fred Hampton was gunned down, when Assata Shakur and Mutulu and Mumia were set up, I would have expected my people, Black people, to have been there to protect them from infiltrators, corrupt caucasoids and Black impostor sell-outs.

But that isn't the general theme for Blacks living in Amerikka. We're too busy consuming ourselves with the menial tasks created by caucasoids to redirect our energies that we feel no need to protect our legacy, let alone these fighters of our freedoms.

How did it all get so twisted, and when did it occur? A theory of mine is that it began to occur when we removed the restrictions and expectations from our children. When we spoiled our children, until only a shadow of the decayed remains were left. The end of an empire begins the same way the beginning of an empire occurs: through the children.

When we give up our responsibilities and accountabilities for our children to strangers, we all suffer. We all lose. And we've been losing a long time. By the time a great number of our children exit the womb, they're already ruined by parents who carry with them the general philosophy that we have no power to change things, or worse yet, that nothing needs to change because we only look at the sum of the parts and not the whole.

Any community that operates in parts cannot function as a solid unit. And the longer it remains so, the more fragmented the community becomes and the harder it is to put "Humpty" back together again.

Considering the minds of current-day Afrikans living in Amerikka, it's not difficult to believe that at the end of the "first cycle" of slavery in Amerikka when they were told they were free there were some who refused to leave their masters for fear there'd be nobody to feed, clothe, rape, lynch and provide them with dirt-floor houses. And that just scratches the surface of how traumatic were their experiences. The idea that they would rather stay in brutality's lair than to venture out on their own.

I've made it up in my mind that if we save the children, we save ourselves. Through the rejuvenation of our children, we build a nation, one with staying power. Not the shaky, questionable, scary perceived power we have lulled ourselves into a false sense of complacency over, but real, tangible power that we can see, touch and feel.

I remember well the words of Brother Amos Wilson, when he said, "You can talk about Egypt, you can talk about Afrika, but if you're not including a talk about power, you're not talking about anything." He knew that as long as we remained powerless, others were free to wield power over us at will.

It's surprising that some of us will speak of the atrocities faced by our brothers and sisters in Afrika, but do not see the atrocities faced here in Amerikka. How can you be free, when another man, who does not have your best interests at heart, dictates when you wake up, when you go to the "plantation," and who "raises" your children?

And because we have been indoctrinated into believing that the only success is the kind that purchases big, empty houses, fancy cars and clothes, etc., we "work" ourselves to death, sacrificing our children in the process.

And, sadly, we have those, who while their hearts might be in the right place, decide they want to save Afrika. Fix Afrika, when they haven't fixed themselves and where they are. I tell them that the worse thing they can do for Afrika is to bring their Westernized thinking to Afrika's soil.

Until we have purged our minds and spirits of the hell that has beseeched us here, there is very little we can do for Afrika. Afrika doesn't need another european, even if it comes cloaked in a melaninated body.

~evolve~

More From the r(E)volution . . .

"Once there are foreign troops in your country, you can not sleep well, you can not say your prayers and they are like a bacteria in our country and we recommend to them to go to their countries before we fight them as we fought the Ethiopian troops who fled from this country." --Sheik Hassan Dahir Aways, chairman of the Alliance for the Re-liberation of Somalia

A Black Sense of Direction

It took me awhile to see the truth, and much longer to admit the truth. But the truth of the matter is that many, many Blacks play for a living. By that, I mean, we spend our lives dreaming, but never visualizing and acting upon that vision. In a state of perceived wakefulness, yet soundly comatose.

If I had a dime for every Black brother and sister I met with dreams but with no vision or practical application for getting there, I'd be "nigga" rich beyond measure. Our people are so comatose that they can be presented with boundless opportunities to showcase and prosper from their real skills, but they'll allow unfounded, irrational fears, selfishness and misplaced alliances to keep them from obtaining generational sustainability.

To some extent, I know what's wrong with us: we have no "knowing" in our abilities. We have bought into the myth that we are non-contributors, that our people never did anything, that we are weak-minded and lazy and that all we want to do is have sex and make babies, which we promptly abandon.

We've been told wrong so long, we think wrong is right. That's why we are okay with not pursuing the things in life that can not only make us happy, but provide independence for generations to come. It's not that we don't have it in us; it's that we don't believe we are truly capable of worthy endeavors.

It is a main reason why we seek the easier routes in life: sports, entertainment and MLM schemes. Those things that we have been "told" we do well, but things, that at the same time, never prosper us in ways that others profit from our participation in them.

William Rhoden's book Forty Million Dollar Slave: The Rise, Fall and Redemption of the Black Athlete offers a critical and eye-opening analysis of how our bodies, our minds and our labors have been used for the betterment of disinterested, capitalistic groups. It is a must-read for parents with young children, especially young males whose highest aspiration is bouncing a ball, swinging at a ball or catching a ball--anything to escape the "hood."

A revealing aspect of Rhoden's book is that if we were to replace every instance of "athlete" with any other line of work regularly conducted by Blacks that mostly benefit other groups of people, the book would remain relevant and so would the circumstances.

I, more than anyone, want Black people to be free, but I can't make Black people free, not physically, mentally or socially. I can only work on me and instill in my children a sense of confidence and dedication to finishing what they started. Hell, even to start something in the first place.

And that's a major problem in our community. We don't finish what we start and we don't start something that we have the commitment to finish. We lie to ourselves constantly about what it is we really want for ourselves and for our families.

I know there are a lot of other groups of people who face these same obstacles, but they've found ways to overcome them. It puzzles me that the major overcomers of the Earth cannot do the same. But I do believe that if we got black to a Black sense of direction, we'd find in our children's lifetime our roadmap to freedom.

The Hard Questions

• Is it because we have not and cannot admit that all of us have been psychologically damaged by our experience at the hands of caucasians that we continue to suffer our children from one generation to the next?
• What would happen if we admitted how traumatized we were and then took steps to remedy the wounds within and began to work on healing the wounds without that disproportionately affect our people around the world?
• What would happen if we stopped dreaming--the Amerikkan dream and any other illusionary ideology--and began visualizing our place in this world through a Black lens, using Black roadmaps to get us there?

~evolve~

The Making of Sheeple

The following was excerpted from the late Baba Asa Hilliard's book The Maroon Within Us, which I copied from AfroAsiatic's blog (giving credit where credit is due). Sometimes the way it was said, is the best way it can be said.

Sheepdog Program successfully creates "Black Sheeple" (Sheep + People)

"Recently, I saw a television program on training sheepdogs. It made a great impression on me, so much so that I have used the story as an example in several speeches. It makes many points that are important for the education of our children.

In most places where people raise sheep, a special type of dog with a special type of training is used to watch a flock of sheep. If one of the sheep wanders, the sheepdog will bring it back. This dog will protect the sheep flock from all other animals, including other dogs. When the sheepdog is with its master, it is usually described as loyal, gentle, and intelligent. But the most striking part of the description to me is that the things that are said about the sheepdog's behavior are all from the point of view of the master and involve the master's needs. The dog's own needs are not really considered, other than to determine how those needs may be used by the master to make the dog do what the master wishes.

How does this happen? How does a dog come to lose interest in its own independent direction or in the direction which, as a member of a 'dog family,' is expected to keep? The program on television showed how it is done. At birth, the puppy is separated almost at once from all the other dogs--from its brothers and sisters, from its family. It is then placed into a pen where there are nothing but sheep, including the young lambs who are nursing. In its normal drive to satisfy its hunger, it seeks out a ewe and tries to nurse from her, along with the other lambs. When it is successful, it continues, and is then raised with sheep as a lamb until it is sufficiently developed to be trained.

Notice here that it continues to look like a dog as well. It will leave the track of a dog and will have the speed and strength of a dog. Yet, while it has the intelligence of a dog, it will develop the mind of a sheep! Once that happens, it no longer acts like, or in the interest of itself as a dog, or in the interest of other dogs. Notice also that this dog has mastered the 'basic skills,' from its master's point of view. It would also have passed very high on the 'D.A.T.,' or 'Dog Aptitude Test.' Moreover, it will see its own brothers and sisters as 'the enemy' since this dog does not know them as brothers and sisters.

Let's take a moment to review what this story teaches us.

For the dog's master to work his will with the dog, he established a training, not an educational process that had certain key features in it:

1. The dog was separated from its family and group at an early age.



2. It was continually isolated from them during its learning years.



3. It was placed into a sheep's (alien) environment.



4. It was fed a sheep's (alien) diet.



5. It was given a 'special education.'



6. It was totally dependent upon the master and never allowed to hunt for itself.



7. All the decisions about its training were made outside of the family and without its consultation.

Now we can begin to see what must have happened to the dog so that it would dedicate its life to the service of others while seeing its own family as the enemy. Because of separation, it lost its people's collective memory or history. Without memory or history, neither the present nor the future can be interpreted.

This is the first step toward developing dependency. The dog becomes totally dependent upon the knowledge and interpretations of others.

Because of isolation from its 'people,' it can not learn the normal survival rules and agenda for dogs. It can not learn from the experiences of other dogs nor test its sense of reality with theirs. It even loses the opportunity to learn dog 'language' so that it can 'ask questions' later on.

Because it grows up in a sheep's environment, it begins to live in a world of illusions, seeing itself as a sheep. Because it is nurtured on an alien diet, it comes to crave that diet and to depend upon those who could provide it, since it can not produce the diet for itself. Because of its 'special education,' it accepts training and confuses it with education (critical awareness). Because it is dependent, it can never challenge the master or 'bite the hand that feeds it.'

Because none of the decisions about its training or education can be made by its parents, family, or community, and because it can only agree or disagree with what is provided, it becomes a living, breathing, highly skilled, and quite intelligent, robot. But to all outward appearances, few would ever know."

Note: Is this not the "living, breathing, highly skilled, and quite intelligent, robotic" Afrikan of today?"

evolve

White Out

The other day I got a phone call from a brother new to my area. He was perplexed, disappointed and a little angry.

"I thought this was supposed to be one of the most conscious cities here? What's wrong with the people?" he fumed.

I grimaced, because I knew just what he meant. I've been where he's now treading. I know what's at the end of the road.

I also know every emotion he was battling with. It's an emotion only derived from battling against the asinine actions of my people--and I use "my people" loosely.

When I first arrived in Atlanta, I was elated based on what I'd been told: "A world of consciousness awaits you"; "You'll see so many natural Afrikans here--this is the land of opportunity for being your Black self"; "You're going to be right at home, amongst your people."

With accolades like that, I was wondering why I hadn't been here all my life. It didn't take long to find out that my definition of consciousness was quite different from those walking in and out of the shadows of Atlanta's "conscious" community.

It is in Atlanta where I ran into the part-time revolutionaries. As long as there were panels, debates and other events where only talking was required, these part-time revolutionaries did not, would not, miss the opening curtain.

But the minute lanes changed and someone wanted to begin taking action, the tone changed and the seats emptied. It's been during my time here that I've also noted something else--many of us always want our "captors" to know what we're doing, what we're planning on doing and how we plan to do it.

One event comes to mind. Following B.O.'s election, a panel of Black scholars was created to discuss what B.O. owes black people. Now, first off, I say he doesn't owe Black people a damn thing because he never promised them anything--end of discussion.

But, for some reason, someone thought they needed to "talk" about it. It was at the end of this "talk," which seems to be the only real thing happening in the "conscious" community, that my husband looked back, tapped me on the leg and beckoned over his shoulder. I turned around and my mouth dropped open.

Here we are, supposedly planning for the building of a nation within a nation, and we've got european jews as vendors in the back. A "Black" function, but europeans are allowed to purchase vendor tables. No wonder the tables were sold out when I called--the europeans had them.

What kind of evolution is that? If you're wondering what kind it is, it isn't. It's the same old, stale-assed revolving Black people have been doing for years.

To evolve means that we will have to undergo a drastic whiteout process. Whites out of our discussions. Whites out of our child rearing. Whites out of our homes. Whites out of our family affairs. Whites out of our Motherland. Whites out, period.

Pass the brush.

Baby, Be Mine

Some things you don't overlook. You take them for what they really are and deal with them straight up. That's what needs to be done with Ms. Madonna as she moves to kidnap another Afrikan child. Our children are a commodity to people like her, nothing more than another of her expensive baubles.

While she might pretend she's only trying to help poor, helpless, orphaned Afrikan children, she's doing this for selfish reasons--and further working to destroy the Afrikan family. Most of the children within these orphanages are there because of people who look like Madonna. The only difference between her and them is that they're conscious of their main motive--destruction of the Afrikan family so that they can continue raping the continent and its people of their natural resources.

When she kidnapped the first baby from his homeland, she promised that she would maintain an ongoing relationship with the child's father. It's 2009, and this is the baby's first visit to his "biological" father, since 2006. Do the math.

But I can't fault only Madonna and people like her. Though they share most of the responsibility, I have to look at us as a people. There was a time when children in orphanages was a foreign concept to Afrikans. If a child lost its parents, or the parents were unable to care for the child, there was always someone else within that clan willing to do so. It took a village, and the village heeded the call.

With all the dis-ease, fraudulent claims of HIV, experimental vaccines and chaos that the european has brought to the Continent, the minds of its people are too cognitively disconnected to see the err of their ways. So, it is with that in mind, that folks like Madonna, Angelina and the rest of the beasts of the field, kidnap our children and "lower" them into european unconsciousness. When, if they truly wanted to help, they'd simply finance the "re-building" of infrastructure.

And like I said before, Afrika, along with all people of Afrikan descent, share in the blame. If Afrika was the united kingdom it could and should be, we would be ferreting those children to villages and homes filled with people who looked like them, taught them the values, traditions and cultures of their people, and loved and protected them as their own. Because that's what they are. They are our children. Our responsibility.

Every time we allow our enemy to kidnap them and lower them to their unconsciousness, we assist in the widening gulf that exists between what used to be us and what will be us. And yet we stand in amazement that our very own children have the least bit of respect for us. It's hard respecting cowards and those who will not take a stand.

Unless and until our children fully understand, respect and embrace their Afrikan heritage, evolution will be difficult, if not impossible. But, of course, their evolutionary process depends on us doing what we're supposed to be doing.

The Revolution Will Not Be Televised

Most of my thoughts for these blog postings stem from conversations with others. This one, in particular, confirmed something I'd known all along: the r(E)volution will not be televised.

I do owe Bro. Gil Scott Heron for bringing this to my attention some years ago. But it is only now that I can truly appreciate the brother's words. I'd also like to add a modern flair to what he said by adding that it won't be YouTube'd either.

It more than likely will also not be radio'd, CB'd, newspaper'd, iPod'd, iPhone'd, spoken in politcally correct conversation or amen'd in megachurches. But, what makes me grin from ear-to-ear, is knowing that the r(E)volution is and has been taking place.

For anyone upset that evolutionary videos, radio broadcasts, text messages, etc., are not making it through to intended audiences due to high-level Amerikkan censorship, rest easy, the r(E)volution will not be televised, will not be televised, will not be televised--but it's still taking place. ;-)

A Sense of Evolvement

I've got blogs. More than one, to be exact. So, why another? Because to different people I have different things to say. I also have different trains of thought that I want to evaluate. That means having more than one avenue for addressing them. In this forum, I get to discuss evolution in its greatest sense.

My people, Afrikan people, have spent recent years revolving, hence, labeling themselves as revolutionaries. I have come into the knowing that this thinking can be faulty thinking, as it does just as a revolvement is supposed to do--it leads us back to where we started.

I'm tired starting over by traveling the same self-defeating road. It's time for something new. An ascension. And I can't ascend on a spiritual, physical and emotional plane, if I keep revolving.

So, the word of the day, week, month and the rest of my life is simple: evolve.