To say that I desire to be a catalyst for divine change is an understatement. I possess an eagerness to uplift humanity out of the miserable mess we inherited from previous generations. Enthusiastically defining my life mission in its most primal form.
It is a thought that has spread it’s invasive roots reaching every gap and crevice and crack of my brain. It is the infection that no anti-body can do away with because it is so deep seated that removal would mean death; death of mind and withering of soul.
The goal being a far-reaching empathetic revolutionary endeavor that would leave an imprint on the world, tearing it from its current course of violent catastrophe. This goal defines success. Success: utilizing my creative assets and my compassion for life, and therefore God, to pave a new direction for progeny.
I have no interest in the typical terms of success; only for my own intimate terms of success. A success that was sparked by my origin in Africa. My father the silent scholar and my mother the patient saint primed my foundation.
My first experiment with independence in my young adulthood was my voyage to college where I utterly faltered. Later, I found redemption in my failure. The product of a necessary self implosion and raw disillusionment academically, emotionally, financially, identifiably, spiritually, and ideologically.
I have the ancient will of the Black continent I was derived from to thank for my self discovery during an impromptu informal sabbatical with kin. The restoration of my purpose, my newfound diligent determination to satisfy my success. This restoration a result of rediscovering my childhood motivations to rehabilitate the truths that shape my identity. Birth by brokenness, freedom from chaotic fire. Experience through exposure to the passion numbing nature of life as a disenchanted Millennial adult sharpened my desire to separate myself from my current state mediocrity.
This is my prophetic intuition. This is my premonition. This is my beginning.
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