I haven’t been myself.
I know I haven’t. Those close to me know I haven’t.
We weren’t gathered for spectacle—for appearances. We were gathered to celebrate Love. Union. It reminded me of tradition . . . of our roots well before we lost ourselves in the degradation of culture.
The entire day I felt like a time traveler.
Rocking my vintage tweed suit from the era of soul singing, black love and liberation.
The reverend’s words and the jumping of the broom taking me back to plantation where the gospel and one another were our only means of Joy.
Then on the back porch, smoking blunt after blunt, spirits flowing through me flushing cheeks, I’d look up at the stars . . . then back at our shining, shimmering faces— our revelry, then back at the stars . . . and see reflection. Ancient as earth.
It was a nice break from myself and the reality in which I dwell.
At one point his eldest brother said, “This nigga Myc always smilin’ ” to which his youngest brother responded, “Hell yeah he is. Ay niggeh. Don’t ever let nobody steal your joy, my niggeh. Keep smiling.”
It’s not the first time someone’s commented on my incessant smile. It’s generally what people say they like most about me. The good vibes I bring.
My smile. My laugh. My lightheartedness. My energy.
I’ve gotten quite comfortable in this mask of my former self . . . being the joy that others need, crave—the light in their lives.
It’s necessary. In a world as dark as ours. Light. Is necessary. And I’ve always felt that obligation. And still do.
But I’m weary.
While out west in Los Angeles—and leading up to going out west—I felt something shifting within me.
As if a veil was being lifted.
For the bulk of my adult life I’ve been incorrigible invested in not only the liberation of Human, but the liberation of all Life on this planet as well.
It’s been all I’ve studied. Every job I’ve had has revolved around it. It’s my obsession.
Many a night I’ve pondered myself sleepless, wondering:
How do I do my part?
How does one get the collective to care about our collective well-being?
How do we become a species rooted in harmony as opposed to disharmony—destruction?
Is human doomed to self-destruct?
How do I get my students to care about learning – their parents to care?
How do I get my community to care about the community?
How do I get this person or that person to care about themselves?
At the fucking least?
But something’s began to shift in me, and much was synthesized on my trip to LA.
I’ve always felt Los Angeles was a micro expression of everything wrong with America. It’s an eyesore of city, spiritually inept—bankrupt, rooted in the worst of human disposition—ego, hyper individuality, competition, avarice, lust—hedonism at its absolute finest.
You can feel it in the air. See it faces—eyes.
LA has and always will be too much for me, yet I’d considered staying. Somehow I had managed to be swept up in the idea of Los Angeles. The abundance of opportunity at my fingertips. The quality of lifestyle within an arms reach. Access to my closest friend.
But the Universe has a way of knocking sense back into you. It wasn’t until I was quite literally punched in the face by a crazed, drug induced, lost soul, who then ripped off his shirt, and beat his chest red before chasing me and my friend down the street for three blocks that I realized how far off base I’d strayed with my thinking.
Our country is sick. Sick as fuck. Every single one of us. And at this point there’s really no escaping it.
We’re Addicted this or that.
Fighting tooth and nail to be seen in a sea of mufuckers trying to be seen.
For some reason we all want to be entertainers, myself included—Singers. Dancers. Rappers. Actors. Thespians. Visual Artists. Photographers. Videographers. Models. Athletes. Like we aren’t all entertained and distracted enough as is.
But I get it. Art heals. Art feels good. And without many of us would’ve left this world many moons ago. I know I would have. It’s what we all are at our essence—creators.
So it’s only natural that we’d want to pursue Art as our career. As our means of putting food on the table. And entertainment is the only way to do it if you’re interested in earning anything sniffing a living wage.
And what’s the alternative, right?
Another cog in our broken machine?
A doctor not allowed to heal?
A lawman not allowed to enact justice?
An educator not allowed to teach?
A politician not allowed to pass policy?
A community organizer who can’t get funding?
A scientist who can’t rock the boat?
A glorified cash register?
A clothes folder?
Seller of things no one needs?
A person stuck in a desk staring at a screen?
A debt collector riddled with debt?
We all just want to be Human . . . and are trying desperately to remember what that means before it became whatever the fuck this is.
Before it became drudgery.
Before it became this loveless, soulless, lifeless thing.
We all just want to remember. What joy felt like before it became a mask we put on in front of friends and family.
Something’s shifted in me.
I voted today. Not because I wanted to. Not because I felt like it’d change anything in particular.
Hillary will win. Because that’s the nature of the Oligarchy that is America.
I voted because my forefathers and mothers got their asses beat for me to do so . . . and it only took me 5 minutes. If there was a line I probably would’ve kept it pushing if I’m being honest.
I was talking to the homie, Tish Jones the other day and she touched on how often she feels schizophrenic (miss me with pc culture at the moment) when it comes to processing reality and the reality of others, an idea that resonated with me long after finishing our conversation.
When you’re someone with a great deal of self awareness, someone who’s well studied, who’s exposed themselves to variety of people and experiences, who’s inherently observant, who’s spiritually an energetically attune, you process reality through every single one of those filters. You bring that awareness, that understanding to every situation—every room you walk into, every conversation you have. And if you’re dealing with someone (most people) who don’t share this level of understanding, you can begin to feel like a got damn basket case—an alien, if you will. Like YOU’RE tripping, as opposed to everyone else. Because of course, if everyone else is groovy, obviously you’re the one with the got damn problem, right?
With the world that we live in. A world where both knowledge and ignorance is abundant. A world where there’s such a ridiculously dumb amount of information and misinformation swimming through the ether that is the internet, we’re able to quite literally live in our own little bubble of reality. And because we live in a culture of unchecked opinion as opposed to universal truth, everyone is validated in believing whatever goofy ass thing they want to believe.
And I’m tired of it. I’m tired of trying to act like there’s a solution to this problematic ass road we’ve decided to go down. The powers that be have done such a magnificent job of ensuring that none of us know what the fuck is going on or how any of this shit works. I mean, a large portion of our population still doesn’t believe in climate change like they can’t look out the got damn window
My best friend and I were sitting by the fire on Halloween night, incense and sage swirling through the air, listening to Tibetan tones and the crackling of wood, meditating. We felt compelled to commemorate the crone moon and bless the spiritual realm in which we dwell. After our session we decided to take some time to journal about Fire—because not only did we happen to be by one, but it’d been an idea that was rather prevalent in both of our lives leading up to that night.
This lasted a smooth 20 to 30 minutes.
I’ve always been a Humanist. One that believes in the power of thought and human ingenuity—in our ability to problem-solve and improve upon the conditions of ourselves and all Life on this planet. That is, if given the opportunity to truly thrive and evolve out of the dark ages we’ve been trapped in since the beginning of recorded history.
Yet, ruminating on fire lead me to a sobering conclusion.
Say Fire and Knowledge—our need to know, to discover, to solve problems—are synonymous.
Once sparked, Fire grows and grows, bright . . . vibrant, dancing it’s wild dance, consuming everything in its path, suffocating all Life until it has nothing left to consume. Only then does the Fire dissipate.
Once sparked, Knowledge grows and grows, bright . . . vibrant, dancing it’s wild dance, consuming everything in its path, suffocating all Life until is has nothing left to consume. Only then does Knowledge dissipate.
Man only seeks to solve the problems created by his own existence. And in doing so, because man is clumsy, we only create more problems. Then we solve them. And create more problems on and on perpetually until we burn out.
A cycle we’ve been trapped in since conception, it seems.
In realizing this.
In having the sense knocked into me by the Universe.
In being hyper aware of the state of Man.
Hyper aware of the state of Mother – our planet.
And disgustingly aware of the level at which those who govern us inhibit progress, knowingly.
Something in me has shifted.
I can no longer where a mask.
I can no longer act like things are ok.
Like I am ok.
I am not.
We are not.
And the sooner we realize that, as a collective, the more quickly and successfully we’ll be able to prepare for the times ahead.
But what can one do really, right? What am I asking you to do?
I’m not asking you to do anything.
We’ve reached critical mass (in my humble opinion). The point of no return. The snowball is rolling.
Keep doing exactly what you’re doing, but walk with forethought.
Learn skills that matter—how to garden, fish, how to build, craft, fix—how to be handy.
Change your habits.
Change your diet.
Love your friends and loved ones.
Talk to them.
Ease their spirits.
Teach the little ones close to you what it means to be Human.
Teach yourself what it means to be Human.
Pay attention to the world around you, so you’re not blindsided when real shit happens.
Read. Write. And Create things that move people.
Stop being a Victim.
To your loved ones.
To our culture.
And most importantly, protect yourself.
Physically, spiritually, and mentally.