Beforty

In less than 24 hours, I will turn forty years old. Before then, I wanted to mark the time and reflect on my life’s journey. Here are three quick lessons I’ve learned over these (almost) four decades of life:

 

1. Treasure Our People – I have not posted to this blog in nearly three years. Early in 2020, my mentor and Pops, Rev. Michael Brown died of cancer. Since then, I could not find the creative energy to write here. This summer, my mother died of health complications. I am continuing to process what it means to live without her physical presence as well and tomorrow, will listen for her voice singing me happy birthday. They are pictured below with me at my ordination service in 2012. 

   
   

   
   

   

   Me, my Mom (Augusta Gilmore-Bennett) and
   Pops (Rev. Michael Brown)

Because families are complex, it's important for me to say that Rev. Brown was not my biological father. He was married to Veronica Brown for over 40 years and they welcomed me as part of their family. My mother was married to Robert Bennett, who she was with for 27 years.

Over the years, we have experienced the deaths of family and friends; Granny, Uncle Freddy, Mr. Nobody, Uncle Charles, Auntie Debra, and Larry to name a few. These people were our people. They were not all related by blood, but they were our sages, guides, and confidants. They were our consciences and guardians. They were the people we relied on when an adult was needed. (Now, we find ourselves being the adults others rely on!?!) But it all has taught me to value my people. To love them deeply and tell them openly. To care enough to care. In the hospital, I’ve also seen the reality that life is like a vapor and can evaporate without warning. I am so grateful for the people in my life who love me and who I love. Dear friends who check on me, youth I’ve ministered to in the past, compassionate colleagues. I’m grateful for the lilt in their laughter and the peace of their presence. This is an area I want to continue to grow in as I cross this new decade of life. 

2. Be Audacious – For some reason, my life has been filled with big decisions. I accepted my calling into ministry at 21. This decision would alter my entire life. I co-founded a city-wide conference at 23 (I Want God folx, stand up!). The scariest life decision we made? Leaving good jobs and our entire network in Indiana and moving to North Carolina with a one-year-old baby and $1000. It was an audacious decision that became transformative for our life’s trajectory. We have seen the fruit of our labors and prayers. We have met new people (who have also become our people) and learned to take big risks. It taught us to rely on God and God’s people for provision. It taught us that we are resilient. Other audacious decisions have followed those - personal ministry choices, starting a business, meetings and moments that have continued to expand our horizons.

As I’ve gotten older (ugh, I’m saying it already), I’ve noticed that those with great opportunities aren't always the smartest or best, they simply have the audacity to believe in what may be possible. This leads me to my last lesson… 

3. Keep Dreaming and Acting - When I was a young child, I could not imagine the age I am now. Even as a teenager, I remember dreaming about being an adult and that adult was never forty. In those adolescent dreams, I was ageless, older than my big cousins but never the age of my mom (who was “old” to me, although she was in her late 30s like I am - for a few more hours). My dream adult life was amazing - I was married to a beautiful woman and we had lovely children. Unlike my real life at the time, the adult me had more shirts in the closet than days of the week. The adult me had access to a car. The adult me felt safe and smiled a lot. Those dreams were important to me. They kept me believing in something and hoping for a future. 

That has been an invaluable takeaway - if I dream and work, the dream can become my life. I recognize this is a bold statement, that also needs to allow room for the lived realities of people who cannot simply out-dream themselves out of their life’s conditions. However, for me, the dream was important because the dream fueled my faith and my faith fueled my actions. Now I spend time asking myself, What do I dream of next? What is beyond what I can see? Writing, serving, giving, playing, loving? If so, I need to encourage those dreams to concretize through my efforts, relationships, and prayers. 

Today, my life is not perfect - marriage and children are incredible and hard work. Ministry is fulfilling and taxing. Yet my life is better than I ever imagined. To come from my family’s beginnings, surviving abuse, poverty, insecurity, low expectations, and societal limitations to where I/we are today, quite honestly, feels like a miracle. A spectacular, imperfect spectacle of God’s grace and glory. What’s even more exciting? Today, at 39.997, before forty is officially here, it feels like the dream may just be getting started. 

It Was All a Dream: An Ode to Summer

Approximately three months ago, summer began and with it so did my goal-setting.  I had major plans for this season. I registered for a class, created a writing schedule, and purposed to do projects around the house. I was going to work hard and get a lot done. At first, I was disappointed that I was not working (or overworking). Then I decided to fully live into the respite. Looking back now, I didn't complete most of these tasks. And yet, I feel better than I have at the end of a summer in a long time. 

This summer, I allowed myself to lay fallow. My fallow season may have been needed to produce a greater quality harvest but it’s also been an unexpected blessing. It reminded me that I’m not the product of my production.  I rejected the Western/capitalist social myth that my value is only connected to what I produce. I am enough and I am worthy of rest.  (As avatars and echoes of God, we should rest even when we have the power to work. Controlled power is real strength.)

Tonight is the last night of my summer. Oh, I know  summer technically ends on September 22. But the spirit of summer, the choices, the freedom, ends tonight. The first day of school for our daughters is tomorrow. My doctoral classes (including Quantitative Research Methods!) resume Thursday. Ashley’s clientele continues to increase. I’ve got a speaking engagement Saturday, new student chaplain interns arriving at our hospital in three weeks, and a full dance card this fall. Yet, I am better prepared to approach this next season because of  the gifts summer has given me. I hope you have enjoyed fallow times this summer. I believe they can make us better. Check out my ode and slideshow below. Thank you Summer.

An Ode to Summer

For rest,

For daydreams and dalliances,

For new places to nestle and nap. 

For experimentation and exercise. 

For rekindled romance. 

For meditative moments uninterrupted by deadlines. 

For Nnede Okorafor’s novel Who Fears Death. 

For Megan Thee Stallion. 

For Brian Courtney Wilson. 

For watching Ashley present at a conference. 

For strengthening my bond with Shakespeare, the Carter’s family dog. 

For long talks with my sister.

For freedom from wearing my retainer 24/7 (always at night though!).

For a clearer commute. 

For an encouraging conversation with my academic advisor. 

For French toast with Florida friends.

For spraying the girls with water hoses. 

For colleagues that laughed and cried with me. 

For grandparents who love their grandchildren.

For sermon requests that came at the right time. 

For relaxing our tie requirement at work.

For Augmented Reality.

For late nights and early mornings. 

For sustenance in the midst of major financial changes. 

For sweat. #drip

For visits from old friends.

For the looks on the girls’ faces as they ascended in an airplane. 

For barbecued turkey chops with the Browns. 

For fireworks. 

For trying new wines. 

For playing NBA 2K with my nephew. 

For teaching me about growth through rest. 

Thank you Summer.

The Unexpected: Reflecting on 15 Years in Ministry

May 23, 2004, I was licensed to be a minister of the gospel at Second Baptist Church in Bloomington, Indiana. In front of my family, friends, and fiancee, I committed myself to the Lord (See the quadruple alliteration? I'm definitely Baptist!).

I struggle with using the word anniversary. Ministry is joy and pain, but not in a singular celebratory way. That said, the time is worth marking... I have remained committed to God this long. When I first said I was called to ministry, Rev. Michael Brown, my mentor and father-figure, told me the first five years of ministry are extremely difficult.

He was right. When I was licensed, I could just legally drink (even though I never did) and I was entering jails preaching about eternity. Fifteen years later, I find myself reflecting on what I've learned so far...

1. I Need to be Different-iated

People who knew me 15 years ago will notice that I've changed in this time. I have grown and cut my hair. But I've also grown and cut my theology. Some things I used to believe I don't anymore. Other things I never knew, I now believe fiercely. Growth in ministry and in life requires continued transformation AND differentiation. 

The temptation in ministry is to become like everyone else - preach the same, believe the same, act the same. My work over the last 15 years has been to learn to gain more clarity on who I am. I'm different. I zig when others zag. I talk to myself - and answer myself. I find God in rap music, especially when it's explicit. I'd rather watch Game of Thrones than the Word Network. And I pray heavy prayers when I hear someone is going into the ministry.

I want to continue sharpening the picture of myself, for myself, that God might use... me.

2. I Need People

I believe I would not have entered the ministry those many years ago if it were not for Suzanne Faulk. I played bass guitar at Second Baptist and usually kept to myself. I was a typical bass player, unassuming, quiet, and steady (omit Bootsie Collins and Flea). One day in choir rehearsal, while I was sitting at the bass, Mama Suzanne looked at me from the soprano section and said "Jeremy, you should talk more". It felt like she had called me out of hiding. I began to say what I felt and what I believe God was saying and people listened! It was a miracle that she called out of me (read the example of Jesus at the wedding for the way a mother can call out a miracle in a child that the child doesn't know is there.)

Before I preached my first sermon, I had a dream about it. In my dream, I was wearing a specific tie. I called Ashley, my fiancee and now wife, described the tie and asked her if she could get it. She spent a whole day in and out of stores, sending me pictures (on old flip phones!) to get me the right tie - the one in the pic above. All because of my dream. Years later, she would leave her job and family in Indiana because I believed God was calling me to seminary. 

My Aunt Debra, Uncle Donnell and Uncle Freddy all encouraged me early in ministry and have died since that day. I often hear their admonitions now. Numerous others have prayed, affirmed, funded, and challenged me.* Recently, I wondered about future iterations of ministry for myself. I sat down with my daughter and talked with her. I was surprised by the clarity and direction I gained from her words. But I shouldn't have been (see below). People have been the catalyst for this entire journey.

3. I Need to Heed the Spirit

My "trial sermon" (a non-literal term used in the Baptist tradition) was titled "Obey God and Expect the Unexpected". It was a word to myself to stay with God and expect to be surprised.

It was also a doublespoken prayer.** It was a word to others and to myself. Spirit, please never stop giving me courage... Spirit, please don't let me leave you...

Real talk, there have been times in ministry where the God-stuff is too much - too legalistic, too formulaic, too hopeless. Being a "Minister" can be a colonization of the Spirit. If I'm not careful, the Spirit can become a casualty of the professionalization of ministry (the words "colonization" and "professionalization" being placeholders for white supremacy/patriarchy). The work I do now as a "Reverend" or "Certified Educator of Clinical Pastoral Education" is impotent without the Spirit. My preaching, teaching, writing, and loving are but gongs of vanity without the Spirit. 

But the green screen of the Spirit lets me sense God in a myriad of ways. I sense the Spirit when I see teenagers dancing at a lock-in.  I sense the Spirit when I hear the stories of grief and loss from students or patients. I sense the Spirit when I talk about my African ancestors' jubilance and perseverance. And that's what I still need in ministry - I need to heed the unorthodox, inconvenient movement of the Spirit. I need to put my Baptist finger up in the wind to see which way it is going. Fifteen years ago, I never imagined I would be who I am now. For at least another fifteen years, holy wind, sweet Spirit, please do the unexpected...










* Thank you to all of the people who have loved on me, Ashley, Jocelyn and Jaelle in this time (if you know the acronym, you're probably part of that group, lol): our families near and far, friends, FBC, ABC, SBC, MLBC, MOF, IWG, KODI, DDS, DVAMC, CHS, REX, CPE, FMF, etc.

** Sensing, T. African American Preaching. Journal of American Academy of Ministry, 7. (http://blogs.acu.edu/sensingt/files/2010/10/Black-Preaching-JAAM-6-2000.pdf) Doublespeak is a preaching/speaking device used to obfuscate, multiply, or manipulate meaning. It is commonly used in African-American preaching to subvert "hegemonic powers". 

3 Reasons You Need to Stop Wachu Doin and Watch Amanda Seales' "I Be Knowin'"

I love my mother-in-law. Not only because she calls  "just cuz I was thinking about you" or because buys me Christmas gifts each year. Not even only because she birthed my wife, Ashley. I love my mother-in-law because she lets us use her HBO subscription. Last night, Ashley and I turned to HBO and watched Amanda Seales' comedy special, "I Be Knowin'".  (Advisory: the special contains explicit language) We laughed and learned for sixty one ab-tightening minutes. Below are 3 reasons you need to stop wachu doin right now and go watch her special. 


1. The Feast of Black Knowledge

Amanda, a renaissance woman in entertainment (actress on HBO's "Insecure", singer, VJ, podcaster, host, comedian), also famously holds a masters degree in African-American Studies from Columbia University. Listen to how she talks with Trevor Noah about how her studies inform her comedy.

From Harriett Tubman to Nat Turner to James Weldon Johnson, this is a primer in African-American Studies. Personally, as someone who also has a graduate degree in African-American Studies, I'm excited about the exposure of the discipline. Amanda connects historical content with contemporary struggles around race and gender. This is a master class in what she calls "edutainment". Schools should study the way she weaves in ratchetness and black empowerment.  In one example, she gives a memorable distinction of whiteness (there are people who happen to be white and then there are white people). If her YouTube show, Gem Droppin', is an appetizer, this is an entrée. If her traveling game show, "Smart Funny & Black" is a knowledge bowl, this is a knowledge buffet. 


2. The Audience

Part of Amanda's appeal is she knows who she is and doesn't try to accommodate white people. If you're at her show, you know what you're getting. In this crowd, there are no fairweather fans, but "passionate" supporters, mostly Black women, there to root on their girl.

I was glad about this. Amanda has a following already and I was worried HBO would try to dilute her to be a comic for everyone ("everyone" is code for being palatable to white people). The ovation she got when she came on stage let me know her people were in the building. They didn't let up either. They sang along to her rap remixes. They cheered her quips about menstrual cycles and sex with exes. They double-clapped on command!  During one punchline about passive aggressive white people, a woman in the front row jumps out of her seat in jubilant agreement with Amanda. The audience makes you wish you were in the room that night. 


3. The ShowWomanship

If you've never seen Amanda do anything, she doesn't halfstep with her energy. She's "passionate" and that comes through in this show. I've been a fan of hers for years now and felt pride as she presented some of her notable jokes with flair and freshness. This was her tour de force, her "Bring the Pain" (Chris Rock), her "Killin' them Softly" (Dave Chappelle). I don't name these male comics to legitimize her - she doesn't need that. Only to give a comparison to the combination of social critique and laugh-out-loud funny she demonstrates. 

This is a classic. It is a black woman at the peak of her powers and somehow not even at the peak of her powers. This show is an event, a mood, and Amanda recognizes it and lives into it fully. The occasion does not overwhelm her, but she embraces it and seems driven further by it. At multiple points, she takes deep pauses, inhaling the moment and letting us all anticipate the punch line. After a one hour set where she sang, danced, taught, rolled (Ashley cracked up and rewound that part), and half-preached, she wasn't even sweating. (I don't know a thing about this, but shout out to the makeup team) She did the damned thing. 


Around midnight, Ashley and I looked at each other in deep appreciation for a night well spent. Our cheeks hurt, our cores burned, and our hearts swelled. We had witnessed something glorious. Never before have I felt more like calling my mother-in-law... just cuz.

All Eyez on Me: Managing My Anxiety

Prayer has gotten me through a lot in life. Like a lot a lot. From major life decisions to family health scares to finding a parking space, prayer has been my weapon of choice. I wholeheartedly believe in it, in fact, I believe some spirits only respond to prayer and fasting. (Mark 9:14-29) But what about everything else? What about all the other spirits? What about the dark web of the mind? I've grown convinced that prayer alone is not the only tactic I have against a world that is, pardon the expression... crazy. Below I outline the things I partner with prayer in my own inward journey with anxiety. 

Wise Counsel

I was prompted to go to counseling by my wife Ashley after having struggles with anxiety. Full disclosure, Ashley is a licensed therapist, so her recommendation was expected. I present as confident and competent but I also carry an unreal amount of self-judgment that she saw up close. As a black person in America, there's an added propensity for anxiety (Williams, 2012). I also didn't grow up with many examples of people saying they were anxious - in truth, it sounded like a word white people used. Feeling nervous, overwhelmed, or doubtful were either ignored or seen as signs of weakness.

My therapeutic work has been to combat these various voices and replace them with realistic messages of my capacity and humanity. Therapy has helped me regulate these feelings and have a consistent outlet for my anxiety, fears, and hopes. Since I've started going, I also feel more capable of wading through life's changes. Check out this proverb - Without counsel purposes are disappointed: but in the multitude of counsellors they are established. I've learned that counseling steadies me in a world with increasing demands and scrutiny. 

Creating, Creating, Creating

Writing and playing music re-energizes me. I noticed that this fall, I have not played bass guitar at all or written as much for my own pleasure as I have for work/school/church. You've probably noticed. I haven't blogged about James Cone's new book (amazing), Lil Wayne's Carter V (worth the wait), the "Purplish" episode of Blackish (classic),or the midterm elections (meh). This is usually a sign that my energies are devoted outward instead of inward. 

There is the practical concern of time but also the more insidious fear of judgment that emerges when creating. Work, school, and ministry can feel like incessant critique; How will it be received? Is it properly sourced and vetted? Is it a valuable contribution to the field? Being free to create means I don't have to be overly concerned with these questions. That said, blogging is a useful measure of my self reflection. When I see I have not blogged in a while (not even drafted things to write), I know I need to release some creative tension. Ultimately, I want to be more familiar with JAG than APA.  I'm learning to give energy to the things that give me energy. 
 
That said, I'm about to go play the piano.  Brb...

… Ok, I'm back. That felt good.


A Good Cuss Word

Finally, those close to me know I have become more comfortable cussing. This is a complex topic for some religious communities. Of course, there is a time and a place for everything. Most people who meet me won't hear me cuss because that's not called for in most of my interactions. However, I believe there are emotional spikes in life that only certain language can capture. Check out this awesome article by Dr. Donyelle McCray, "Sweating, Spitting, and Cursing: Intimations of the Sacred". In her words, "When a preacher [person] resists the urge to self-censor, a curious thing can happen. A curse word can actually function as a husk for the sacred." (McCray, 2015)

I heard Issa Rae say it well in an interview - Cussing punctuates my speech. A good cuss word can be cathartic, the orienting antidote to a world on fire. A firm slap in the face of grief and loss. The exclamation point to an unspeakable joy. I'm finding that a good cuss word can ease my troubled mind. Not ironically, Hip hop reigns supreme as the musical genre that uses the most profanity. This only amplifies my appreciation for the music. And explains why the background refrains in Chance the Rapper's "I Might Need Security" have been especially helpful for my anger (explicit language warning). 

 
 

Recently, I left a therapy session excited. The time was filled with advice, honesty, and challenge. I reflected and thought about my quest in managing my inner mayhem. Since going, I have been able to share poetry and my counselor and I do a lot of cussing together.  Counseling, creativity, and cussing have become important tools in managing my anxiety (and it's alliterative, so you know it works). I'm also grateful to know I'm not alone on this journey - Monica Coleman's Bipolar Faith: A Black Woman's Journey with Depression and Faith and Charlamagne tha God's Shook Ones: Anxiety Playing Tricks on Me are useful traveling companions. I pray you find the people and tools you need to help you too. Look at me - praying again.  

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McCray, Donyelle. (2015). Sweating, Spitting, and Cursing:  Intimations of the Sacred. Practical Matters 8 (2015).

Williams, M. T., Chapman, L. K., Wong, J., & Turkheimer, E. (2012). The role of ethnic identity in symptoms of anxiety and depression in African Americans. Psychiatry research, 199(1), 31-6.

The PhDecision: 8 Important Questions I Asked Before Going Back to School

This week, NBA players including Lebron James, Paul George, and Boogie Cousins made franchise altering decisions on the teams they would join. Recently I made a major decision about my own future and enrolled in a PhD program at North Carolina State University. Although my choice may not have the reach of theirs (sadly, there's no Cole Haan shoe deal for doc students), it certainly came with it’s own set of lifestyle consequences, family considerations, and salary cap implications. I wanted to share some of my reasoning and anxieties about going back to school in the hopes it may help someone else who is considering where they might take their talents.



Should I go back to school? While this feels like the most obvious quandary, it is really a Russian doll (pictured), a big question full of little questions. This is NOT the most important question.

 

In making this decision, it is crucial to make a distinction between learning and formal education. Learning is a lifelong enterprise. Learning comes with being a disciple and a student. I always want to be learning, questioning, examining the world around me. However, there are training programs, apprenticeships, volunteer opportunities, and even YouTube, where one can learn without oppressive financial and emotional debt. Formal education is not an altruistic endeavor or just for fun. Formal education is big business and at an average cost of between $11,000-$50,000+/year, it is a business decision. So I had to ask myself the little, big questions:

    1.   Does this degree give me the credentials, knowledge, or expertise to excel in my desired field?

    2.   Is this degree going to pay for itself - either by being free, reduced, or raising my earning potential to comfortably cover any incurred debt?

I was able to answer these satisfactorily but the booming, distracting question still remained - Should I go back to school? After reminding myself that this was NOT the real question (and becoming bleary-eyed staring at tuition tables), I remembered Howard McClusky's theory. In 1959, McClusky revealed his Power Load Margin theory which says, in sum, adults have to measure their own load (demands placed on them) and power (factors that they have to sustain the load) when deciding what educational goals they can manage. This theory lifted another set of questions for consideration:

    3.   Do I have the emotional, spiritual, physical support I need to complete this program?
    4.   Should I consider part time, full time, or distance learning?
    5.   Are there people around me who will keep me accountable and give me relief?
    6.   Are there things in my life I can reduce so my load is more manageable?
    7.   Does this program/school have a reputation for helping students manage their load?
 
Empowered with these practical answers, I was almost ready to apply. I am blessed to have a strong support system and as unpredictable as life is, I thought this may be the ideal time to do this degree. Yet, something was still gnawing at my spirit. Another existential, personal, and private question continued to whisper to me. When I sat quiet long enough, I heard it:


    8.   Does this degree define me?

 

I would be lying to say there is no ego involved in pursuing a doctorate. I needed to examine this tendency in myself so I retreated on a personal jet to the Caribbean. No, that was Lebron. Instead, I talked with friends who had done doctoral work about their experiences. One told me she had seen some of the most brilliant, competent, incredible people she knew become insecure shells of themselves due to their doctoral work. Another, who completed her PhD after much duress stated she will never judge anyone who does not complete the process because of the soul damage it can inflict. Others stated various tales of hardship and success.

Their words were sobering and liberating. These were people I revered and they had often struggled, sometimes given up, and sometimes overcame. They helped me answer this last question definitively. Does this degree define me? Hell no. Like Lebron's decision to play for LA, I was great before I came and I will be great when I leave. I do not need a degree to validate my greatness (sometimes I think a degree can obscure it).

I hope this is helpful to all sitting with your own questions. There were other signs and stories in my decision, but answering these questions was critical. This degree is feasible and practically possible, but not definitive. Even if I don't go to college, I deserve to be on the court. Ah yeah, that's right. Give me my jersey and the ball. God be with me, I'm ready.
 

My 6 Cents: Thoughts on 'This Is America' I Haven't Seen Anywhere Else

This week, Childish Gambino/Donald Glover gave us a cultural touchstone, the music video “This is America”. It has been viewed over 65 million times (update: as of 05/14/18, the song has over 109 million views and just became the number one song in America!). It depicts violence, joy, riots, dance, apathy, and much more. I believe the video is part of a deleted scene from Black Panther - it’s what Killmonger showed W'kabi to convince him to help him liberate black people. I’ve been scouring the web, reading and watching the various layers and perspectives. (The link will take you to a Google search for 'This Is America reviews'). That said, there were some thoughts that I didn't see so I’ll add my voice to the chorus. Below are six more insights I haven’t seen anywhere else.

1. Completely indoors - Some have reported that Americans are the first indoor species. According to one author, we live 93% of our existence indoors. In urban environments, this is even more pronounced, as people only go outside to travel from one building to the next.

2. Absence of elderly people - Maybe they been forgotten, killed, because they cannot run, dance, or contribute to the building of the empire? There is no elder who can be a place of memory, perspective, or wisdom. This too, is America - ignoring our elders.

3. Emanuel 9 + 1 - The gospel choir has been compared to the nine Charleston AME murders. However, there is one extra person . This “+1” hearkens to the biblical story of the three Hebrew boys in the fiery furnace in Daniel 3. When they were thrown in Jesus was with them. In America, the Black Jesus/spirituality is being shot at too.

4. Production value - Everyone who contributed to this deserves celebration; the cinematography, shot selection, choreography, historians, producers, and everyone in between. The music is crazy. When the track plays James Brown as the last adlib, the video reaches peak blackness for me. I audibly shouted during rewatches as the “Say it Loud” singer screams “Get down!” before Childish Gambino tosses his joint and 'gets down' in the tradition of Brown, Jackie Wilson, and Michael Jackson. Euphoric and cathartic. The hair styling of SZA as lady liberty, the training of the horse to run across the shot, the combination of artificial and natural light; this video can be appreciated as complex and excellent art.

5. Blackness as uncapturable - Outside of hitting that joint, Childish Gambino and the camera never stop moving. Blackness is always elusive, always running from the grasp of white rule (sometime so much that it is exhausting). It cannot be captured and is always exceeding its descriptions. To control/police blackness is to attempt to shackle the wind. Thank you Mother Maya.

6. Hazard lights on the cars - At the end of the video, the cars all have their hazard lights turned on. This video is a warning. Of what? One common read is that it’s a warning to not get distracted. That said, I wonder how this video can become a distraction from the work of freedom? I fear that if we spend too long analyzing, rather than using it as fuel, we can be recreating the sensation-chasing dynamic it warns us against. That said...

I'm outta here. Thanks Childish Gambino and all for this masterpiece. The work continues...