Mind
Glow Media is not a blog or a news outlet. It’s an exciting place in the Air.
It’s an emerging empire of ideas. It’s a catalyst behind the synthesis of
cultural arts and sciences to propel the best that they all have to offer our
world into the far and distant future.
What
are the mediums through which this end may come about? I will not define my
methods. Anything that you can define is already dead, because it can only be
what it is defined as. And that’s all that itwill ever be. Nothing more!
On
the other hand, Something that is truly alive doesn’t just grow, it transforms.
Defying definition, it becomes whatever it must to remain viable and relevant.
MGM is everything you want and anything you have yet to consider that is
valuable and needed to assist in moving people forward in a creative way.
It
is far more gratifying to insert yourself into a space that you can grow into,
than it is to be kidnapped from the scenic shores of endless possibility and
shackled as a slave to limiting, dogmatic forms. 2015 was a great year. I appreciate
you all for your love and support. Mind Glow Media looks forward to inspiring you
to Recognize Your Light in 2016. To all of my readers, I wish you all the best
for the new year.
If you are truly spiritual, then chances are you appreciate high
fashion. Conceptually speaking, clothes with beautiful, intricate designs and
patterns are poly-chromatic geometrized auric fields vibrating at a frequency
that is just slow enough for you to see them with your naked eyes. When you see
some fly shit—whether on a man, or a manikin—you stare at it for a reason. The
visual speaks directly to your personal wants, needs, lusts and desires.
I appreciate fine clothing. It doesn’t have to be designer wear,
either. When I have a fresh cut from the barber, and I’m wearing fragrant
cologne or scented oils with my choice of new apparel, I walk the street as
copper-toned perfection robed in starlight, gold, and glory. I blaze new trails
of preferred possibility. You can’t hurt my style. I’m pretty sure that you can
relate, to this majestic state of grace.
But what makes clothing so appealing to us? Why do we feel such a
rush of excitement when we walk out of our homes with well-made garments with
beautiful colors, designs, and textures? We flirted with the answer to these
questions in the very first paragraph.
Perhaps we should delve a little deeper to reach a common core of
understanding.
Our best thoughts define us because they reflect the true essence of who we are. A man is what he does
most frequently, but his habits are based on his conscious thoughts as well as
the mental impressions that he has internalized over time. A man cannot
generate any internal vision of beauty unless that beauty is already within
him.
However beauty comes in many forms. More often than not, people
crave a form of beauty that they either FEEL that they don’t innately have, or they
think they are severely lacking in. Color, shape, and texture are the symbolic
representations of timeless universal principles. Just as letters combine to
form words, the alphabet of color, form, and texture combine to produce a
different kind of word that can only be read by the soul.
This “word,” which consists of a variety of woven fabrics that
function as letters, exemplifies the very principles that we want to cultivate
within ourselves INTERNALLY. Through well-fashioned pieces of clothing we add
these desired qualities to ourselves EXTERNALLY. In the process, we tell the
world “this is what I value; this is the idealized version of me that I would
like to reflect back to myself and project to the outer world today.”
The soul of man yearns for self expression, and this is achieved
when he cloaks his flesh in garments that visually define the universal
principles that his soul wishes to cultivate internally through direct human
experience. In short, fashion can literally aid in the advancement of the soul’s
journey on earth. Soulful people love nice clothes because their capacity to
simultaneously internalize, and embody, the totality of creation through their
adornments is simply unlimited. As a collective, they makeup the singular
intelligence that brought creation as we know it into being.
There are many great fashion designers, but a SUPERIOR designer is
one who has traversed the empathic bridge that allows her to step into the
heart of all humanity with her left foot forward.There is morethat I can share. For those who seek further elaboration I do creative
consulting.
When we talk about the history of modern fashion, it would be a
huge mistake if we ignored the contributions of those Moors who occupied
Europe, especially those who were
Christian in their political orientation.
Damian Fonseca (1573-1640) was a Spanish author who witnessed the
impact that these Moors had on Spain’s fashion scene nearly a century after the
Reconquista, which was the Spanish reclamation of Spain from Moorish dominion
in the latter part of the 15th century. When the Christian Moors (Moriscos) were
being driven out of their Valencian homes in 1609, there were reports of mass
lootings of their personal belongings which were left behind.
Many of their possessions were sold by bidders at mass
auctions. In an English translation I
obtained from Fonseca’s book Relacion de la expulsion de la Moriscos del
reino de Valencia, we read:
“They held there a very cheap fair of extremely
rich clothes in the Moorish style, beds, tents, sheets, towels worked in gold,
wonderfully made shirts, very fine pieces of linen, with many other things, and
whoever had money, at small expense returned home rich with these jewels.”
On the heels of this ethnic cleansing campaign, the Spanish
government went so far as to pass legislation that forbade members of the
general public from dressing like Moors, despite the fact that Moorish fashion was
already popular with Europe’s aristocracy going back to at least the 13th
century.
Dedicated students of America’s colonial period may recall that as
early as the 18th century, Black Native American women living in New Spain—which
included the state now known as Louisiana—were required to cover their heads
with scarves as a result of the Tignon Laws enacted by governor Esteban
Rodriguez Miro, who of course, was a Spaniard. Spain purchased the land now
known as Louisiana from the French before giving it back to them in 1803.
The United States purchased the land from Napoleon Bonaparte that
same year after the French autocrat was seriously weakened by the Haitian
Uprising. The defeat handed to Napoleon by Haitian rebels crushed his dream of
building an empire in the Americas. Apparently, Haiti was able to conquer the
French by assembling what we might call
a supernatural Voltron. This entity was quite literally an aggregate of dark
energy intelligences working as one cohesive unit under the auspices of Vodun
priests. That’s another story I’ll save for another day.
The intricate beauty of Black women’s highly decorated natural
hairstyles, which included bird feathers and precious stones, were making white
women in Louisiana jealous as their white husbands and fiancés expressed a
sexual appreciation for natural Black feminine beauty. Black women were forced
to wear modest scarves called tignons to dull their natural light in the midst
of deeply rooted jealousy.
I suspect that these fears rested on the concern
that European male settlers would openly court these women in marriage, which
would potentially transfer stolen land and property back into the hands of the
original Black natives of America it was stolen from. I suggest that you read the book Devil's Lane: Sex & Race in the Early South to draw your own conclusions.
As I escort you on this abbreviated cat walk through centuries
you’ve probably noticed a pattern developing. Black excellence in fashion has
historically been a rabid assault on the “white” inferiority complex. For the
Black hairstylist, or weaver of exquisite cloths, being true to an ancient
cultural identity—while remaining innovative in that endeavor—is in and of
itself, a revolutionary act.
Some readers will say that I should not call myself, or other people
of a similar complexion, “Black” because it’s no better than the terms “Negro”
or “Colored” which were coined by European colonizers who sought to give me an
inferior social status by using a form of word sorcery known as legalese. I can respect the rationality of this stance
as it relates to navigating through the U.S. court system and engendering a spirit
of nationhood. Both are key aspects of the human experience in America.
However the black cosmos that I am a microcosm of is older,
bigger, and far more important, than the U.S. court system. Moreover, none of the European colonial lawmakers knew
that they were actually venerating us by calling us Black, because they were
not empirical scientists. They had no knowledge of dark matter and dark energy,
or the role of these elements in creation.
At the 2013 Nobel Conference astrophysicist and Nobel laureate,
George Smoot, explained that dark matter is not what holds the physical
structure of the universe together. Instead he specifically said that it
literally IS “the true structure in the universe” which is reportedly shaped
like an EGG, which therefore makes our physical universe a dark Oval Office, of
sorts. What are the social implications
of this when we follow the universal principle of correspondence which says “As
Above, So Below” to its inevitable end?
It implies that the only SOCIAL structure on planet earth that can
effectively determine global policy in accord with universal principles is a
feminine (egg), Dark Matter power structure, which is essentially a Black
female power structure. The most powerful man on Earth is the one who has been
willfully appointed as King by a council of Black women and consciously
acknowledged as the primary authority of instruction within the collective
psychology of the global populace.
To authoritatively preside over the affairs of nations, you must
pass through The Ring of Fire and be crowned by the black vaginal orifice you
figuratively call the Oval Office. To this day, the Oval Office remains the
most precious room—Acoveted SeaT
of authority—in the collapsing global white house.
When you adopt the mantle
of Blackness you are wrapping yourself in the vestments of cosmic power and
universal law, which is in stark contrast to relative colored law which is
man-made. In the realm of physics, black is not considered a color, although
every color of the visible light spectrum is within it. Those who call
themselves “Black” are the Light Bearers, and the true projectors in this dark Technicolor
movie theater known as the holographic universe.
We generate this holographic light show called third dimensional reality
when we gaze into Oshun’s mirror with the goddess’ curtain of beads covering
our faces. This adornment stimulates Third Eye function because it inhibits the
sight of the first two eyes that deceive the foolish. However those same two eyes
can also be healthy and useful when in the possession of a wise man or woman.
This is the paradox of light and the seeming contradictions of those who are
the chosen bearers of it.
The judge you plead your sovereignty case to wears black, in
acknowledgment of the Black judge Ausar who determines the fate of those whose
hearts have been weighed by Ma’at’s scales of justice. Those copper-toned men
and women who say that they are not Black plead to have their independence
acknowledged by a man or woman who is
AUTHENTICATED in the courtroom by the BLACK garb that they wear. This is
very ironic to me.
Even in medieval alchemical literature it is specifically stated
that the “Ethiopian” is the most promising candidate for alchemical
transformation into gold because he starts off as BLACK lead. Think about all
of this for a minute. If you see “Black” as a label that is inherently
crippling, then maybe—just maybe—the joke’s on you.
Only blackness grants us
access to the infinite and the unseen, which is why people of all races dream
and meditate with their eyes closed. Black is the “prima materia” of manifestation. I don’t see any NEW art or science
manifesting out of the minds of those who perceive “Black” as a shameful title.
They are like wayward trees that have severed their cosmic roots from the
fertile soil of the Dark Mother.
A NASA image of a hurricane on Saturn
When I say that I am a Moor I am proudly identifying with a rich
cultural background that is supranational in its scope. It is a term that
captures who I inherently am, as well as my role in the western world as a
practitioner and patron of the arts and sciences. The Moors are the architects
of modern Western society. If you currently live in a Western society and enjoy
the convenience of shopping for a wide variety of international foods at the
market, or value buying nice clothes, going to the club, raiding libraries for
books, pursuing a university education—then you are appreciative of a social
paradigm that is distinctly Moorish in origin.
You are what you personally identify with most. I identify most
with the victors of history, not the victims. The only copper-toned men in the
modern Western world who have been victors for any significant period of time
are those who are identified as Moors. This is actual and factual.
When I say that I am Black I am not defining myself as the so-called white
man’s polar opposite, nor am I describing my skin complexion which is clearly
dark brown to anyone who can see. When I tell you that I am Black, I am
referring to my greater cosmic identity which predates my descent into this
holy grail of experience made of flesh, blood, and bone. I am the compelling mystery
that conceals the light of luminous stars; I am the unlimited range of possibilities
staring back at you when you gaze at the vast night sky. As a microcosmic expression of the entire
universe, my soul is beyond the jurisdiction of any terrestrial court or
government.
Soul Travel
My flesh is the rented fabric that our rich earth has sponsored.
When my time comes, my flesh will return to its recycling facility where
maggots and worms perform their daily labors. The bickering children on YouTube
would have you believe that you cannot be “Black” and be a “Moor” but father
knows best. By the way, tell me who’s your daddy?
Better yet, what is this mysterious dark energy that I speak of?
It is the vital essence of every single ancestor that you and I have ever had
going back billions of years and beyond. The universe is constantly expanding
because our blood relatives are constantly dying. They all return to the Celestial Pool of
Power in the ethers we draw from when we give them their due acknowledgment and
reverence.
Nothing in the universe, but our thoughts, can stop us from
accomplishing our goals. This is because the dark universe is on our side once
we embrace it and stop seeing ourselves as an “other” in relation to it. The
entire universe is within you. Evert
star, every planet, every inch of blackness in the serene night sky has been
condensed into a dark liquid crystal that flows through your veins. You are
here as a living testament to the beauty and wonder of both the Creator and its
creation. Nice clothes visually remind us that there are literally countless
ways of cloaking ourselves in the principles that govern life and creation.
The laced half boot, skull cap, bangle bracelet, stockings, leather boot with buckles that wrap around
the calves, women’s platform shoe, hooded burnus, and silk button-up shirt,
were all popularized in Europe by Moorish fashion designers. Moorsish men were so well noted for their
sense of chivalry, charm, and fashion, that they were often cast as romantic
figures in Spanish ballads, poems, and short stories even after the
Reconquista.
Ascetic readers may
question why I would even equate fashion with spirituality. After all, beauty
is only skin deep, right? Those who believe so are Third Eye Blind. I’m almost
certain that an ugly person coined that phrase. Only a beautiful person would
know that there are many things that can make a person beautiful, one of them
being their character, which is anything but skin deep. We know this to be true
because people who have beautiful character have an uncanny ability to penetrate
the walls and barriers we build around ourselves. These people resonate with
our core values so we find compelling beauty in them.
Your garments can be used as a wearable vision board that moves you closer
to accomplishing whatever you need to for that day. This is why you have a “dress
code” because your thought patterns can be “encoded” by the clothes that you
wear once you’ve seen your own reflection in the mirror. Every time you put on
clothes you are initiating a ritual. Where is your ritual taking you today?
In post-medieval Southern Europe
there was a dance that French and Spanish locals considered super ratchet in
their time. It was introduced into Europe by the Moors, and it was called the
Zarabanda. I’ve provided a video below so that you can watch a reenactment of
how the dance was performed.
It looks very tame by our standards,
doesn’t it? This should give you some indication of how adept the Roman
Catholic Church was at suppressing sexual expression in 16th century Europe.
Any public interaction between a man and a woman that generated the slightest
feeling of pleasure in participants or onlookers was regarded as lewd and
obscene because the people were sexually repressed. However any intense desire
that is blatantly denied will eventually bring about some form of psychosis.
Twenty five years from now people
will look back at video footage from a Jamaican Passa Passa celebration and say that it’s very mild. As the
Catholic church continues to implode on itself, blow job sessions in crowded
city streets won’t be considered a big deal by global consensus. You won’t be
able to see, the Vitamin D, because it’ll be past your eyes, Milk.
In the Congolese spiritual tradition
known as Palo Mayombe, the deity Zarabanda is a fiery and fearless warrior who
is also an intermediary between the realm of the “dead” and our world of the
living. He slays the evil with his machete which is called a “mbele.” ElephantMan says Drop Dead, drop dead, drop dead, dead, dead, dead. In his book Kimbiza
Santo Cristo: Return of the Holy Grail, Knights Templar and Grand Dragon,
author Markus Rodrique shares some powerful information on Zarabanda in the chapter
entitled “Zarabanda: The Black Knight.”
Today there is a beer that was
introduced by a Spanish chef and it is also known as Zarabanda. It’s made with
hot peppercorns which brings to mind the fiery temperament of the Congolese
deity who goes by the same name. Of course we know that beer is an alcoholic
beverage, but the circumstances that lead to its widespread use in Europe are
not commonly known.
Zarabanda Beer
Medieval Europe was plagued by
sanitary issues, so the Moors popularized the consumption of alcohol to protect
themselves from water-born diseases like cholera. An alcoholic beverage is also
known as a “spirit” in common parlance, but what spirit is conjured when it is
consumed in excess? There are many viable speculations. The one that would
yield the most truth would probably be the one garnered from examining the
etymology behind the word “alcohol.”
The English word “alcohol” is derived
from the Arabic word “Al-kuhul” which means “The Kohl,” but kohl is a metallic
powder. The Palo spirit Zarabanda is a metallurgist and many people who are
drunk have a tendency to exhibit the aggressive or even violent qualities that
one might associate with Zarabanda, minus the discernment that he is noted for.
Drinking excessive amounts of alcohol
causes iron toxicity from the build up of iron in the body.
I do not think that it is a coincidence that
the Congolese deity Zarabanda is heavily associated with iron, his precious
metal. This is not “spookism” and superstition. This is African science explained
through character metaphor. Nevertheless, one who is active in the Palo Mayombe
tradition may have thoughts that are contrary to what has been presented here
which may provide us with further understanding.
In the medieval period, Europe
experienced an explosion in information pertaining to the African Life Sciences
which were recodified (remixed) and given new names like “Al-Khemy,” “Rosicrucianism,”
and “Solomonic Magic.” For many people who are identified as African over the
centuries, religious affiliation is based on politics. Spirituality is
based on cultural traditions that are
rooted in clanship/nationhood (ancestry).
To think that the history-making
Moors of old Europe practiced orthodox Islam as we know it today is
historically inaccurate and culturally naive. They were always working, and
experimenting with, the African Life
Sciences. This is the only reason why Moorish culture was far richer than the
contemporary Islamic ones so prevalent
in other parts of the world.
In short, Europe’s Moorish legacy was
no greater than the amalgamated African traditions that it fortified itself
with. People are most powerful when they make an
effort to honor the culture and the traditions of lineages that they come out
of. The lead photo is a 14th century English depiction of The Beast spoken of
in the Book of Revelations.
When your enemies depict you as a devil, with
the power to wipe away all that they hold dear and sacred, it is actually a
sign of respect. This is because in order for them to see you in that light
they would have to give their personal power away to you. We stood proudly in
our ancestral cultural traditions back then, cloaking them in the veil of
foreign religious doctrines like Christianity and Islam. It was our little
inside joke on the world.
Now we mistake our outer garments for our flesh
and ask why our little girls are beaten up in concentration camps disguised as
schools. Love the skin you’re in. Your skin, being your timeless spiritual
cultures rooted in art and science. We were taught to abhor our nakedness
because our bodies are beautiful.
A lot of us are afraid of getting back to what
has historically been proven to magnify our power, because what makes us
powerful will cause other groups not to like us. But guess what? Nobody likes
us. They never have. They only like what we create for their consumption and
personal pleasure. Our power is in our art and our science filtered through a
keen understanding of human psychology and what motivates human beings even on
the most primal levels. Let’s work with that.
That sword is still ours. All that we have to do
is reclaim it.
What if the Neteru are conceptual
place markers that allow us to identify deceased members within our families
whom we are supposed to use as
substitutes for these colorful characters found in ancient Kemet’s
divine narratives?
A great grand father who was gentle
with children, instilled loving confidence in women, and was highly respected
by other men, would be Ausar. A grand
uncle who provided a platform for creative artists to express themselves and
inform the public of their unique talents would be Ptah. That lawless older
brother who ran the streets ragged and was always in trouble with police would
be Set.
The word “Nature” is derived from the
Kemetic word “Netcher” which those of us who speak English would call a “god”
or a “goddess.” However the Kemetyu (ancient Egyptians) were talking about
emanations of intelligence that are inherent in our environment. They weren’t
talking about a physically imposing or potentially brutal man or woman, which
is what “god” and “goddess” mean at their German root.
To the old Germanic mind, shaped an molded by Norse culture, a man who was able to break into another
man’s home and beat him bloody and senseless before raping his wife and kids would
be considered a “god.” Nevertheless, many of us
use the words “god” and “goddess” when discussing non-German pantheons because of our common understanding
of what they mean on a colloquial level.
A lot of times we may get great ideas while we’re
relaxing in a park or taking a stroll on the beach. We’re constantly gaining
insight and receiving information from a wide variety of sources. Some people
are drawn to calming waterways. Others are drawn to the fire, the earth, or
open air. But why? Perhaps the answer depends on the most dominant zodiacal
element (Earth, Air, Water, Fire) that corresponds to those deceased relatives
who are making the greatest effort to communicate with us.
Replacing the Neteru with the
personality profile equivalent of ancestors within our own family lines may
have a greater impact on transforming us internally than the gods
themselves. This is because we would be
tapping DIRECTLY into parts of ourselves on a conscious level. I sometimes hear people say “brothas and
sistas got all of this knowledge and they’re still pieces of shit.”
But we need to understand that just because
someone has fully conceptualized the Neteru on an intellectual level it doesn’t
necessarily mean that the deities have been activated in their own blood
streams. Then again, you have instances where one or a few of the Neteru are
wide awaken in the blood, while the majority are fast asleep.
Maybe the only way to stimulate the
Divine Economy of the Neteru within us is to consciously line the deities up
with intelligences who are actually part of us: our ancestors. Thatbeloved uncle who was known for his
penmanship would leave a deeper imprint on your heart and mind than some half
naked dude you never met or spoke to with the head of a bird. And yes, I
understand much of the totemic symbolism behind the visual presentation of
different Neteru, but are you getting my point?
The aforementioned image of Tehuti
from the ancient world may not resonate with the psychology of a man living in
2016. But what if that all-wise, all-knowing deity was replaced with the memory
of a male relative with similar qualities as Tehuti? What if Tehuti was seen as
the man who helped him with his homework as a little boy, or talked to him
about the importance of being himself before his first date as a teenager
coming of age? How would you or I even understand Het Heru’s true value and
significance in mythology unless we’ve had a Het-Heru in our own lives as a
personal frame of reference for her?
Popular culture encourages the
proliferation of crazy, dysfunctional individuals who come together to create
crazy dysfunctional families. When the deranged and horribly flawed people who
were raised in these families die, what spiritual currency will they leave as
an inheritance to their descendants who are left behind to toil in the realm of
the living? How do these would-be heirs—who may be genuinely interested in self-improvement—compete
with other men and women who have inherited what I will call inter-generational
spiritual wealth? It’s a grueling uphill battle, and such is the nature of life
for so many.
The Book of Coming Forth from Night
by Day (more recognized as The Egyptian Book of the Dead) may hold keys that
can assist those of us looking to tap into the greatness within. Think of a
quality within yourself that you would like to cultivate. Figure out the
Netcher that corresponds to that quality or trait, and then see if there is a
transformation spell (specifically in Chapters 77 to 88) in the BOCF related to
that deity or intelligence.
If there is, read the spell out loud while
substituting the deity’s name with the deceased relative who would correspond
with that Netcher’s archetype. Our blood vessels are the banks that the current
of wealth flows through. Today we claim the wealth within through the Divine Economy of the Neteru.
“Mamadou, please hurry before my hubby gets back home,”
says Sarah Cohen with a slight quiver in her voice. The meandering Malian
unbuckles his belt and pops the button on his jeans. He pulls them off slowly.
One leg at a time.
Sarah eagerly pulls down his boxers to reveal his ashy
charcoal burner which flares thick with defiant anticipation for the young
porcelain maiden before him. Mamadou
rubs his bop-gun nozzle against the lips of Sarah’s pink purse, which is
where he’s thinking about depositing all
666 talents of his black gold.
Sarah’s on her
plush bed—with its sterling silver canopy—spread out on her knees like fresh
mayonnaise waiting for her hero. Her face is down. Her alabaster bottom is
poking up, as her heart races to that distant place where only death and desire
meet.
“Plant that fat, black fucker in my pussy Mamadou, I want to
go back to Africa,” Sarah affirms as Mamadou rolls his eyes. With her tiny fist
full of abundant cock, she slowly guides her attentive visitor into the creamy
portico of her Brazilian-waxed tabernacle.
“Hold on a minute,” says Sara’s husband, Rabbi Vladimir
Cohen from his front row seat just two feet away from the couple's bedside. “Not
now Vladimir, you’re ruining my moment,” a flustered Sarah interrupts. “I
really need this!!!”
The rabbi resists. “Sarah darling, take a deep breath and
relax. Let me handle this.” Vladimir focuses all of his attention on the Visitor.
“Mamadou, are you kidding me? I mean...are you really kidding, me? You mean
that you’re actually going to stuff that African baobab tree inside of my wife?
I mean, by the time you’re done her cunt is going to look like our daughter’s
hula-hoop. Holy shit. I can’t believe this…”
Mamadou smiles. “Do you believe in God, Rabbi?” Vladimir
betrays a sarcastic grin. “Yes, Mamadou. Yes. As a matter of fact, I do. I’m in
the business of God.” Mamadou, cloaked in
pitch-black darkness, takes a few steps toward Vladimir. “Is God inside
your Torah, Rabbi?”
Vladimir chuckles with amusement. “Yes, the Torah is God’s
exclusive throne where he eternally resides. The holy Torah encapsulates the
entire scope of universal understanding—past, present, and future.”
Mamadou smiles. “In my culture, the totality of God could
never be encompassed by any one book, Rabbi,” he says. “God is everywhere and
in everything, especially that which the human mind has yet to conceive.
However I believe, as you clearly do,that immeasurable greatness can find its
place in small spaces. With that said, your wife’s womb will be the page upon
which I will write my new Testament. I send my deepest, most heart-felt condolences to you and your 3-year-old daughter.”
Vladimir purses his eyebrows. “What the fuck are you talking about? Condolences? Nobody....” Mamadou calmly interrupts the rabbi in mid sentence. “I am going to murder your wife’s pussy, Vladimir. You might as well bury this bitch in a box when I’m done with her. Sit back and watch, my friend. You’ll love it.” Vladimir sits speechless.
Mamadou walks back to the bed where Sarah is laying. She assumes her position. Mamadou
presses his pressure point past her rose pedal gates, to traverse her milk road
without even the slightest hint of resistance. Several minutes elapse within
Sarah’s hourglass of time as Maumadou vigorously plunges balls-deep into her
self-contained, sandy frame, driving her beyond the limits of euphoric
hysteria.
Vladimir’s icy blood vessels began to thaw, from the
confessions of fire that he saw. He was entranced by lust. Perspiration. Envy—and
steady rounds of pelvic applause.
A throbbing erection arose from the cemetery of his loins
like the holy Shekhinah from the Temple of Solomon upon its destruction at the
hands of ruinous Babylonians. Vladimir stared mindlessly at Maumadou’s broad
shoulders and sweaty back and saw the deepest darkest depths of cosmic space in
his imposing form.
The African moved with the natural force of creation to
bring Sarah to perfect ATONement. “You want to have my baby, dont you, Sarah?”
Maumadou asked her. “YES MAMADOU!!! YES!!!” she replied emphatically. “Spit
your black ink on my white page and I will make you a king!!!”
Vladimir pulsated like a brand new star that had been forged
in the heavenly furnace of AbraHAM’s constellation. His wife’s unrestrained joy
infused him with an overwhelming erotic force that his direct sexual
experiences with her had never evoked
from him.
Mamadou withdrew his Tree of Life from Sarah and
sacrificed his kids to the Moloch tattoo on her lower back. “Bitch, I was born
a king,” he said before giving her a playful spank on her ass. “I was crowned
by my mother when my head passed through her ring of fire at birth.” Hot Shmita
spilled from Sarah’s lower back down her sizzling buffy cheeks as her overheated
body shuddered with spastic approval.
Mamadou got dressed, collected his money and then walked
right out the bedroom door. However on the Cohen’s bedroom dresser he left a
small black cube made of wood with obscure sigils and Arabic inscriptions.
However, instead of calling Mamadou to let him know that he left the foreign
object, Vladimir put the cube in his pocket. From there, the story begins....
TO BE CONTINUED SOMEDAY
***********
Mali pop a Judah creamy kola nut shootah. Stab a rose
slab, with the boabab. Blow out backs just like a tuba. Invoke the power
of comPuTAH. I'm in your smart phone
like I knew ya. My word is iron. I feed the lion, with a steady current from
the future...
Mali Poppa Judah creamy coconut nut shootah. Jabba hoe
slab, with the boabab. Blow out backs just like a tuba. Invoke the power
of comPuTAH. He's in your smart phone
like he knew ya. His word is iron. He is the lion, generating a current for the
future...
Mali pop a Judah creamy kola nut shootah. Stab a rose
slab, with the boabab. Blow out backs just like a tuba. Invoke the power
of comPuTAH. I'm in your smart phone
like I knew ya. My word is iron. I feed the lion, with a steady current from
the future...
Now I am sure that there will be some who will
read the title of my 2013 interview, “The African Origin of Ancient Sumerian
Civilization: My Q&A with Hermel Hermstein” and say that it is a mistake for
me to make a distinction in classification between Africa and an ancient Black
civilization located in a region that many call “The Middle East.”
They will argue that the land designations perpetuate
a divisive geopolitical construct fomented by white propagandists posing as credible
historians of high academic integrity. These historical revisionists that
authentic Black scholars have engaged in intellectual combat have tried to divorce
Black men and women from their ancient cultural legacy. I have been in perfect
solidarity with critical observers who have made this point for years. You will
find that I have made this formal acknowledgment in my older writings.
I am intimately aware of the fact that in
ancient times, there was no geographical distinction between what we now know
as “Africa” and the so-called “ Middle East,” as they were both part of a vast Black
empire. Over 2000 years ago the Greek historian and philosopher Strabo informed
us that Ethiopia—which was known as Kush—included the body of land that
currently occupies the Arabian peninsula. He says this in his book The
Geography: Book One, Chapter 2.
A peninsula is a body of land that is surrounded
by water on three sides while attached to a larger landmass. The Arabian
peninsula is clearly attached to Africa. Although culturally diverse, both Africa
and the so-called “Middle East,” were home to Black people who look no
different from those walking the streets of Crenshaw, Los Angeles or Flatbush,
Brooklyn today.
Nevertheless, it should be duly noted that
although the DESIGNATION of “Middle East” is a cultural innovation of
imperialist colonizers, the same is the case with the designation of The
Motherland as “Africa.” The men and women of ancient Ta Seti, Kemet, Sumer, or
even the Nok people of West “Africa” did not refer to themselves as “Africans”
based on the historical records handed down to us through the ages.
They appear to have viewed themselves as
separate, autonomous NATIONS that engaged one another in trade and shared similar
cultural ideas. However, if there was a uniform, continental name that these ancient
Blacks used to identify one another, it certainly was not “African,” for that
too is a later construct.
It would be of great benefit to the reader if we
briefly explored the origin of the name “Africa.” Some who qualify themselves
as credible historians have said that the etymological root for the name
“Africa” comes from the name Scipio Africanus, the Roman general who defeated
Hannibal the Great of Carthage at the end of the second Punic War. This is emphatically
INCORRECT.
This error is easily identified by the fact that
“Scipio Africanus” was born as Publius Cornelius Scipio. You can confirm this
for yourself by consulting Richard A Gabriel’s book Scipio Africanus: Rome’s Greatest
General, among other works. I don’t care how confident or how
charismatic a man sounds. You should not take his scholarship too seriously
unless his work has been reviewed and qualified by his peers. I say this
because you will not have a barometer, a reliable standard to go by, if you are
a new student who is trying to determine who is actually qualified to speak on subject matter that is of importance to you. The scholar's work should be peer reviewed.
Hannibal Barca
Some people mean well and add value, but are not
strong in certain areas of study. Others are losers in real life and just want to be seen and have followers.
The thought that you will eventually become well-learned and not rely on them
for information is a scary thought that haunts them day and night. It’s one thing for a guy
to upload a video to YouTube where he talks loud, sounding arrogant and intentionally disrespectful. However, being
well-learned and properly informed doesn’t necessarily entail those qualities.
In most cases, it actually defies them.
Read more books, and watch less
lectures. Reading structures your mind for critical thinking in ways that even
the best lectures cannot. But even books, blogs, and journals are secondary. Go
inside of yourself for the big answers while using external tools for
assistance. Old family members who are eager to share family history with you are invaluable human resources for those seeking knowledge of SELF. If you still have such people in your life and can reach them, then you are blessed. No one that I have taught follows me. They’re too busy living life, finding their own voice and teaching in their own unique ways based on the new understanding they've acquired.
National identity has importance. Before any group of people can have a national
identity that is clear, strong, and vibrant, they must share the same core
ideas and values. A large group of people, whether they are a secret society, a
street gang, or a nation, are bound together by common core values. The medium
in which these values are primarily preserved is through language which serves
as a bedrock for culture. The people of France are called “French” based on the
language that they speak. The people of China are identified as “Chinese” based
on the fact that they speak a mother tongue that reinforces their collective
psychology for the preservation of common values. For them, this language is
called “Chinese.”
To the brothers and sisters who say that the
word “Moor” originally came from white Europeans I ask you what was the language
spoken by the ancient people who occupied modern day Burkina Faso and its
neighboring regions? You do understand that there were several Moors who Gentrified Europe during the medieval period who were not Moroccan, and were in fact from
other parts of what we call West Africa, right? You do know that many of these
Moors were not actually Islamic but gave off an Islamic, and in some cases, a
Christian veneer for both political and economic reasons, right?
To appreciate what I’m getting at you have to
have an internal understanding of culture that is not always transmitted through
books, blogs and videos. And no, I’ve NEVER been a follower of Noble Drew Ali
or the Moorish Science Temple. However, I have had a strong internal connection with the Moorish legacy of old
Europe before I was even reading and writing down my own thoughts. That legacy
is a part of me. Fuck all of your half-assed rhetoric. I’ve digressed. Let’s progress together by getting back on topic.
Scipio was only given the nickname “Africanus”
after he defeated Hannibal Barca. The name “Africa” is actually based on the the
Romanization of the Numidian “Afri” people. They were just one of the clans
that the ancient Romans encountered during their sojourns into ancient Numidia,
which is not to be confused with ancient Nubia.
The Afri lived in, and around, ancient Carthage.
The Romans were so in awe of Hannibal’s military prowess that they named their
own general Scipio “Africanus.” For the Romans, the name had become synonymous with
the fierce Afri warriors that they took great pride in defeating by the skin of
their teeth. In European literature Scipio is referred to as “The Roman
Hannibal.” This strongly suggests that his only historical relevance arises out
of the fact that he defeated Hannibal the Great to end the second Punic War.
Scipio is only important to the extent that his
legacy is linked to Hannibal’s. The ancient Romans were telling the world that
their general was so brave and so calculating that he might as well be an
Africanus, or what we would now call an “African.” The word “African” is the
Anglicized version of the Latinized word “Africanus” which was originally derived
from the Afri people who lived in and around Carthage.
Africa was NOT named after a Roman general. It
was named after a relatively small native clan who lived in the region of
Carthage who called themselves Afri. The decision to identify the entire
continent based on the name for these local people was made by European
colonizers. No doubt. But that’s different from saying that the name originated
with Europeans. If Chinese colonizers decided to rename the entire continent “GHANAlù”
tomorrow it doesn’t mean that the name “GHANA” came from them. It means that
they merely added their suffix to the indigenous name of a historically
localized people and applied that name to an entire continent.
Nevertheless, we need to keep in mind that Carthage
(now a part of Tunisia) is just one small region within the vast continent that
the world now calls “Africa.” Although I could be wrong, I seriously doubt that
the Zulus of 3000 B.C.E. referred to themselves as “Afri” while living at least
4,000 miles South of North Africa where the Afri resided. The Sumerians, who
were Black, did not call themselves Afri either. Furthermore, if we look at
Iraq on a map, an argument can be made that it is just as much a part of East
Africa as it is Western Asia as far as geography goes. Sumer was located in what is today known as Iraq.
This leads to other questions about land designation that I, and/or another
researcher, may choose to explore at a later time.
In the meantime, please understand that when I
make reference to the “African origin” of ancient Sumer I am only using a
contemporary term (that term being “African”) that is commonly understood and
recognized by even the most casual readers of my 2013 interview. I wholly
acknowledge the land now designated as “Africa” to be the ethno-cultural starting
point for ancient Sumerian civilization, which thrived thousands of years
before Black men and women identified themselves as “African” through any continental
consensus.
As far as I am aware, there is no ancient
written record or text that proves that Black men and women throughout the
continent decided to uniformly identify themselves as “Africans” before the
continent was carved up and divided among its European invaders. This is
because they all had national identities rooted in culture and reinforced by
language. Only these preserved written records—provided that they even exist—will
serve as verifiable sources of reference
in any assertions to the contrary. Then again, would these records even be
written in a mother language that is understood, authenticated, and venerated
by all of the nations it pertains to? At the moment, I do not have a definitive answer to this question.
Communication is most effective when we use
words and terms that can be easily identified and codified by those who receive
our message. We should share information with our audience that will expand its
scope of understanding. Still we can only do that after we’ve gotten our audience’s
attention by using words and concepts that they are already familiar with. In
other words, you must reach people where they are at before you take them where
they’re striving to go. With that understanding, I decided to title my offering
“The African Origins of Ancient Sumerian Civilization.”
It’s unfortunate that many Black people assume
that various words come from Europeans just because they cannot trace the origin of those words
back to a stellae from ancient Kemet. Kemet was beautiful. It was amazing. In
many ways it was the crystallization of traditional African values. However
there are many answers to the question of who you are that cannot be found
there. As a result, the search continues: throughout the continent, throughout the
globe, throughout the solar system and the universe. You have no beginning or
ending. Your soul’s seed occupies a moment that knows no circumference, hence
that moment is eternal and so are you.
Adika Butler is a journalist, chef, creative consultant, and cultural philanthropist. He is also a Free Thinker, student, practitioner, and writer on the occult who expounds upon the subtle life sciences that underlie occult teachings and current events. As a Matthew Henson of the mind, Adika's mission is to go where few men have gone before. His exploratory scholarship includes, but is not limited to, the study of: ancient history, lost civilizations, Cosmology, Astro-Theology, Social Engineering, Psychology, Word Sorcery and the universal themes that serve as the foundation for all world religions. He shares his personal discoveries on Mind Glow Media, his website dedicated to the "soul" purpose of Opening Eyes and Illuminating Minds.