Some fifty years ago, when I attended Mount Vernon Junior High school, I was just a gentle, poetry-reading pot-bellied little four-eyed nerd. And Rudy, the toughest bully in the school decided that I had narked on him, and that he would beat the hell out of me after school.
Rudy, his brother Oliver and two or three of his friends followed me home, punching and spitting on me as I hunched over my books, praying that one of the cars driving past would stop, that a driver would see what was happening and save me.
No one saved me. No help was coming. But it was killing me inside, that sense of utter helplessness.
If I didn’t fight, he’d shatter what little sense of being a “Man” I had.
If I did fight, he’d beat me up worse.
If by some miracle I beat him, I’d have to fight his big brother and his friends.
There was no way to win. But something cracked inside me, and I put my books down and walked out into the middle of Washington Boulevard and stood on the double yellow lines with cars whizzing past on both sides, drivers who hadn’t stopped to help now screaming at this small, crying boy to get the hell out of the street.
Rudy and his friends looked at me without comprehending. And I looked at him, and I said: “come out here and do that.”
If he’d come out, I was going to push him in front of a car. I was going to do my level best to kill him, or die trying.
And he looked at me, and I looked at him, and he said: “aw man…that nigger’s crazy.” And walked away.
And never bothered me again. Because he had pushed me beyond social rules. This wasn’t a game any more. He blinked first.
I walked back to the sidewalk, picked up my books, and went home, in a strange kind of fugue state. I knew I had found something extraordinary. Something I’d seen in movies, a place from which heroes can do amazing things. I’d thought it was a myth.
And knew I had to do anything, ANYTHING to learn how to enter that space at will. Because there…you are ready to die, and ready to take your tormentor with you. And in that space…?
The one least willing to die will lose.
The next twenty years were filled with both wonder and frustration, realizing that the martial arts were the closest analogue I could find, but that the American version of it never seemed to have EVERYTHING–the physical AND the mental AND the emotional/spiritual techniques. That I was going to have to seek out the pieces of the puzzle and fit them together in a way that would work for me.
What did I want? To be happy, and healthy, and loved, and successful, and capable of helping the people around me.
The fear I felt there at thirteen was physical, but it’s the same stuff I had to deal with in my career, in learning to trust my own instinct, in believing that there was a place for me somewhere in the world.
It took TWENTY MORE YEARS to learn the first technique that really opened my mind and heart. And when I learned it, it was so simple that it blew my mind. There really are secrets. There really are hidden “Magics” so effective that if you don’t know them, you can batter at the walls of your heart like someone pushing on a door marked “pull.”
One whisper, from the right person, at the right time, can make all the difference.
Fear is the root of most of the negative experiences in your life. Learning to master it, or at least not to be ashamed of it, is critical for any adult human being, but artists can face it without ever being forced to admit that it is a factor in their creative blocks, their inability to create, finish, submit, or market their work.
None of that for Lifewriters! This is the reason we included the Emotional Mastery tools with the AFROFUTURISM class. And why I’m working so hard to bring every tool I can, so that you can rise as far as your heart can lift you.
One tool was simply too powerful for me to teach. Its taken me years to get the man who taught it to me to share it in a format anyone can understand and use.
Yesterday I recorded a lecture for the “Spiritual Entrepreneur” mini-course with Mushtaq Ali Al Ansari, my Sufi friend and mentor. The intent is to help break the negative beliefs around money and marketing, but also to show how, if you BEGIN with the intent to help, heal, transform, that sales and marketing are a public service. How else will people learn about your art, your skills, the effort and genius you’ve put into creating your offers?
We’re using the Enneagram, a “paper computer” that shows the actual structure inside a process. Genius stuff, and the Western world understands about 1% of it: the “personality”. In other words, the part of it that resembles a horoscope.
I plan to change that. Knowledge is easy, but WISDOM is hard. I think we might give away some free copies of this amazing technology this Saturday on AFROFUTURISM: LIVE. Maybe. Got to think about it…
This is powerful stuff. Hidden wisdom.
Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic…