Life

Positive Vibes

Can you share a positive example of where you’ve felt loved?






Sharing a Positive Moment in Life
There I was, standing in line at the store, waiting patiently to pay for the items I had carefully chosen. It was an ordinary moment, one of those mundane tasks we all go through without much thought. But that day, something extraordinary happened.

The woman in front of me, a stranger I’d never met, turned to the cashier and said, “Add their items to my bill.” For a moment, I stood there, stunned. I didn’t look like someone in desperate need—I wasn’t disheveled or destitute. Her gesture wasn’t prompted by pity or obligation; it was pure generosity, stemming from the goodness of her heart.

It made me think about the philosophy some people hold dear: the idea that the good you do in the world eventually comes back to you. There’s a saying that no good deed goes unnoticed, though some twist it into the belief that it doesn’t go unpunished. Regardless, this moment was a testament to the beauty of human kindness, a reminder that simple acts of generosity can ripple outwards in ways we might never imagine.

Her action also brought to mind the lyrics of that soulful song, “What if God was one of us?” It’s a question that lingers, urging us to consider how we treat one another. Stories tell us that Jesus once walked among us, dressed as a beggar, and was scorned by many. It’s a humbling reminder that the divine might not always appear in robes of splendor but could instead manifest through the simplest, humblest acts of kindness.

I call moments like these, intense moments of human connection. They transcend the transactional nature of everyday life and touch something deeper—a shared humanity, a recognition of our interconnectedness. That woman’s kindness was more than a generous act; it was a spark of light, illuminating the profound impact one person can have on another.

As I walked away, I couldn’t help but smile, not just at her gesture, but at the thought that kindness like hers still exists in the world. And perhaps, the best way to honor it is to pass it forward, becoming a link in the chain of compassion that connects us all.

Life

My Greenhouse

You get to build your perfect space for reading and writing. What’s it like?

All my secret places

The Perfect Place for Reading and Writing: My Secret Place

Every writer dreams of a sanctuary where creativity flows freely, a haven that sparks inspiration and nurtures focus. If I could build my perfect place for reading and writing, it would be a greenhouse attached to the back of my house. This space would not only protect my plants but also provide a serene and peaceful atmosphere, ideal for diving into the written word. Surrounded by lush greenery and natural light, I imagine the gentle hum of nature offering quiet companionship as ideas take shape on the page.

Every writer needs a private space—a retreat where the world fades and only their thoughts remain. I call mine my secret place. It’s a place to think, to dream, and to create without interruption.

When I lived in Florida, my secret place was the ocean. The rhythmic crash of the waves, the salty breeze, and the endless horizon had a way of centering me. It helped me focus and stay grounded, offering the kind of clarity that only nature can provide. While the greenhouse now serves as my haven, I carry the memory of those ocean days as a reminder that inspiration can be found anywhere we seek it.

Life

Saying goodbye

What’s the hardest decision you’ve ever had to make? Why?

The Hardest Decision: Choosing Love Over Prolonging Life

Life often presents us with decisions that test the very core of our being. For me, the hardest decision I ever had to make was taking my mother off life support. It’s a moment that remains etched in my heart, not because of the pain it caused me, but because of the love and respect it symbolized for her wishes.

When faced with the unthinkable—knowing that her quality of life had deteriorated to a point she would never have wanted—I had to step into a space of clarity, courage, and selflessness. My mother was a vibrant, independent woman who cherished life, but only when it was lived fully. To her, existing without dignity or autonomy was not living at all. She had always been clear about her wishes, and honoring them became my final act of love.

The decision to remove life support wasn’t made in haste or without immense soul-searching. It involved endless conversations with doctors, family, and, most importantly, with myself. Was I doing the right thing? Would she be at peace with this choice? These questions haunted me, but in the end, I knew I had to trust her voice, even if she could no longer speak it.

As I sat by her bedside in those final moments, I felt a mixture of emotions—grief, guilt, and a strange sense of peace. Watching her take her last breaths, I realized that love sometimes demands the hardest choices. It demands that we put aside our own desires to hold on and instead prioritize the dignity and values of the person we love.

Making this decision taught me many lessons about life and love. It reminded me that the essence of life isn’t in its length but in its quality. It’s about the moments that make us feel alive, the relationships that bring us joy, and the courage to honor someone’s wishes, even when it breaks our heart.

If you are ever faced with such a decision, know that it is okay to feel conflicted. It is okay to mourn not just the loss of your loved one but also the burden of making that choice. Lean on your memories, the love you shared, and the clarity of their wishes. It is not a failure to let go; it is an act of immense bravery to allow someone to find peace.

To anyone reading this who has walked this path, I see you. I understand the weight of that choice, and I honor the love it takes to make it. My mother may no longer be physically present, but the lessons she taught me—about life, dignity, and love—will remain with me forever. And I take solace in knowing that, in her final moments, I gave her what she would have wanted most: peace.

Black History, Christmas, Facebook, featured, Life, Motivation, Western world

Africa I love you:

White lies, is not a Book of or about Hate.

It’s a Celebration of Africa and China’s Partnership.

A Celebration of the People, Culture and Resilience of the African Diaspora’s.

Chapter 1: 

The Call of My Ancestral Land

“There are no chance meetings” Predestined.

When I moved to South Carolina, little did I know, this was the beginning of my trip back to Africa, Dejavu. I knew there would be a culture shock waiting for me. This state, which was once the epicenter of the slave trade in America, bore the weight of a history that could not be ignored. Every corner seemed to whisper stories of pain, resilience, and survival. The echoes of my ancestors, who had been shackled and stripped of their humanity, were palpable in the humid air. Like Marley said, “There is a natural mystic blowing in the air” The realization that I now lived in a place that had been the major beneficiary of slavery made my connection to the land both intimate and haunting. Living here created a sense of urgency in me—a burning need to dig deeper into the cradle of my being. I felt a pull to understand Africa, not as a distant, abstract concept, but as the origin of everything that made me who I am. I had to unearth the roots of my identity and confront the reality of what had been perpetuated on my paternal land. The devastation inflicted upon my people, culture, heritage, and psyche was not just a distant history; it was a present reality, living here. Shaping my consciousness and my place in the world. The more I learned about the history of Africa—its civilizations, its rich cultures, its vibrant languages—the more I realized the depth of what had been stolen. The cradle of humanity, my homeland, had been pillaged, Spoils of a war that never was. It’s people scattered like seeds across foreign lands. And yet, despite the trauma and fragmentation, there was resilience, and the unbroken spirits that called me back to my roots. As I stood on the soil of South Carolina, I felt the weight of this history, not as a burden but as a call to action. I knew that I could not remain silent any longer. Bob Marley’s words rang in my mind: Could this be love? The question lingered, challenging me to look beyond the pain and devastation to see the love that still existed—love for a homeland I had never seen, love for a people I had never met but felt deeply connected to. It was a love that demanded something of me, a response, an acknowledgment of the bond that transcends time and space. Marley also urged, Say something. In those simple words, I found a call to action. It was time to speak up, to reclaim the narrative that had been stripped away. It was time to say something about the threads that bound me to Africa—threads that had endured despite centuries of efforts to sever them. I knew then that it was my time to speak, to tell the story of my heart’s connection to Africa, to honor my ancestors and the resilience of my people. The most damage to my Psych, watching Tarzan. Tarzan’s “ungawa” was strictly a made-up word when it first appeared in the movies. But by chance, it’s also Swahili, with a couple of meanings, depending on inflection. “To unite” or “to join” is one translation. When I sit down and listen to the artist D Sharp song, “Desire” with the Drummer taking me back to my Village. It gives me back that which was stolen, my Identity and my Culture.