What's Next For Mind Glow Media?

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 it will 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.

The Heart of Fashion: Why You Like Nice Clothes...

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 more  that 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—A coveted 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? 

Moorish Ratchetry: Rum, Rage, Riddim & Religion

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.

The Divine Economy of the Neteru

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. That  beloved 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.

Something About Mali...

“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...

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The Origin of the Name "Africa"

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.