You and your colleagues control others using your position of power. This is not a bad or good thing; the line is not as black and white as my friend Rodney thinks it is. Although I am sure the justification that Rodney uses is equal in merit as his belief. My mental resources are taxed; this is clear to any omnipotent observer; sleep deprivation has taken its toll. I belong here or my conception of these people must radically change. Rodney is either Lucifer or the next coming of Jesus Christ. Lester, another companion in my odyssey, is a wonderful person. His family has many businesses but has unfortunately wired most of the businesses they own and the homes Lester has lived in. Lester has taken painkillers for 30yrs, and I often see him moving around in a wheelchair.

Breakfast is always at 8 am. I have not had a carton of milk since grade school. The process of ripping the paper cartoon to receive the liquid inside brings back memories. This makes me think of the elementary school I went to and the plethora of wonderful learning experiences. David Kahneman talks about the experiencing and the remembering self. My remembering self has taken over; I am happy to give in. Memories help me navigate the world; a world full of unseen danger.

The unseen world of oppressive forces that seek to keep me down. There is community here, a local community between the patrons and the practitioners. This community is bound by commonality in our repeated behaviors, speech, and actions. It feels that these repetitive behaviors bounce endlessly in our own echo chamber. We live in a chamber, a box, a prison; some of my freedoms have been taken away. Is this okay?

Regardless, I have Qweli to thank for teaching me self-reflection. Being calm, taking a deep breath and looking someone in the eyes. Look someone in the eyes so you know they are there to help, even if they are my oppressors. Without hesitation, Qweli saved me from terrible wrongs that I may have perpetuated. He sang to me, “I don’t like this new Kayne, I like the old Kayne…” I have never gained so much perspective from two unspecifying stanzas, a simple verse from a song I have never completely listened to. It caught me off guard.

Plan: Play by the rules to leave faster to get better.

Qweli told me that it is hard to ask for help and let others know you struggle. But now is the time for rest. The world will be there when we leave. Tracy told me that you cannot pore from an empty cup.

What is the game? The game is about control, more importantly, self-control. That is why we are here: to live in uncertainty, to be comfortable in that uncertainty, to develop mental toughness against the violent context I live in. How can I be in control in all my contexts? I cannot. How do I lose control? I lose focus after a bad performance,  after I fail to meet my unreasonable expectations, after others fail to meet my expectations. I am surviving but not meeting my own expectations. It is scary when things become uncertain when control begins to slip out of my grasp. However, you are not your thoughts. You are your actions. I gain control of my actions with my acceptance of uncertainty.

Emotions keep us alive, and they motivate us to act, to avoid danger, to make decisions (the good and bad), to understand others and to understand ourselves. There are levels of emotional awareness that I have yet to master. Knowing the feeling exists, acknowledging that feeling, accepting that feeling, reflecting on that feeling, and moving forward with those emotions in tow. While I find some aspects of my odyssey, I cannot forget my interpretation of new stimuli is informed by my prior experiences. I have never felt such a loss of freedom. I have been privileged.

The people here are fascinating. So many experiences across different lives, some similar to my own, others drastically different. Our commonalities feel deep, which I attribute to our common ‘local’ situation. Our common problem is trauma. It explains our behavior, our common reaction to such violence. It is a constant battle for all of us, this battle against our own impulses to be safe, to survive our hostile environments. We must train our brains; a brain trains itself too well. Our ability to cope with such violence becomes engrained to our very being.

I needed this odyssey; I needed to wrestle with control, to push against it, to bend towards it. I needed a reset to gain control; this is self-care. I must stay vigilant on my life and its stressors. My young mind has been trained to perceive danger and my adult brain has taken this idea and ran with it. We must rebuild. For I am a lobster shedding its skin. Lobsters choose when to shed their shells, although they can choose to live in an uncomfortable environment. I am choosing to shed my exoskeleton to evolve. However, I am vagile in this state, naked and afraid, true to my being, my humanity has been challenged, and one does not easily cover from such a confrontation.

I choose confrontation because my humanity demands it. I demand to challenge any sense of right and wrong, any sense of injustice people experience, because I believe in justice. What inhuman piece of shit stands by while your fellow brothers and sisters suffer? Nothing can redeem a coward, not even love.

For love is action, specific actions that give evidence for the existence of love cannot stand alone in one human. These actions exist dependent on group dynamics. We do not love objects or games the same way we love people. Humans love with passion, with emotion, with an infancy that reflects love’s engrained nature within human society. We love our mothers and fathers; they give us warmth, food, protection, agency, and support. We love our brothers and sisters; they give us identity, hope, direction, and support. How do I love? How do I express my love? Verbal kindness, physical presence, a listening ear, a body to help move objects or move feelings. Do I express my love enough?

Reality is scary, but reality can be concurred. Honesty is respected in my local community, and it will be the glue that binds us.

There are many lived experiences to learn from, many anecdotes to listen to, and either laugh or cry during anyone’s monologue.

This is the part of my experience I keep thinking about: my monologues screaming and pleading into nothingness. Maybe I wanted people to hear me. Maybe I wanted to be heard. I wanted my pain to be seen. My monologues are my inner thoughts expressed, my inner soul displayed. I must move forward, past my mind’s constraints on my goals.

Responsibility is difficult to hold if you understand the gravity of your position. Regardless of my responsibilities within my career, I have a responsibility to myself, to my family, and to my community. I must remember progress is not linear.

Too long have I hidden my sadness from myself. Why do such a thing? To calm my anger, anger at a broken world I have put so much of my faith in. That is okay to be emotional at a loss of faith. What must follow is a rebuilding of my faith, faith in my own abilities, and my own brothers and sisters. My odyssey has caused a fracture in my faith in humanity. How could it not?

JLS