There is Hope.

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peace-sign-from-young-boy

Had a conversation with my brother yesterday. He told me that he finds my work hard to read. While humorist he echoed that it was rather sorrowful. Can’t say I haven’t thought the same in my still moments.

I think endlessly about writing that thing…that thing that grabs attention, connects you with the stranger, sparks debate, and has the folks visiting the well I so carefully built for a fresh thought.

But ain’t too many strangers’round’deese parts, i ain’t sparked nare’one viral debate, nor met many thirsty strangers near my well. LOL. Friends and extended friends give props, sparked lengthy facebook conversations, and that’s given me warm tingly feelings. But like the fat Maury Povich baby I WANT MORE!

Before going any further let me say I hate this post. I hate writing anything that smells of pity and sympathy.

I simply am saying I know when my ‘ish is hot; i know when my ‘ish is not; And I also know I have a problem judging my own work. LOL.

I’m not regretful. Confused. But not regretful. I love writing and causing conflict and debate. LOL.

But I think every writer ask themselves – Am I relevant…You know am I writing something worthy of folk’s time? Even more every writer with the insight of social consciousness asks an even tougher question – Am I right…am I contributing to the global good or simply adding to the cling and clatter of internet noise?

You see I wanna be relevant and right. I want to stand in that rarified air with Jon Stewart, Chris Rock, Key and Peele, Larry Wilmore, Jessica Williams, Asif Manvi, Jon Oliver, and Jay Smooth.

released this week
dreamy

Before I could stave off questions of my relative relevance with responses like “it takes time, be persistent, it takes practice” — you know…sedatives for the ego. But when my brother said that my work was sorrowful I could not stave off the possibility that I am not right!

Who knew dark humor and cynicism didn’t make folks happy. Ha! It certainly rings my bell.

The struggle (if only mental) makes us angry, makes us depressed, makes some of us completely go off the grid. And I don’t want to add to that even if that is the case. I much rather power our consciousness and advance us to a kinder more gentler evolution.

So I thought what is it that you originally wanted to contribute to the world. And that was hope! But not blind hope, not regular offering, building offering, love offering, and I know we already did this but before you leave let’s do it again offering. I want to organize. I want to be a source of actionable goals. I want to rabble rouse. Disturb the status quo. Change the system and move on. I want to give hope.

Cash Mob on Mount Rainier
Cash Mob on Mount Rainier

Am I helping the cause to show that #BlackLivesMatter? Am I impacting legislation? Am I impacting the radio playlist? Am I infecting daily conversation? Am I using my greatest talents for the people?

Funny a few weeks ago during a big barber shop debate my barber said, “PavarottiShakur, I’m waiting for you to go from lightning to electricity.”

His word acknowledged that he saw power in me but noticed it too often was wild and unfocused. And it was a subtle warning that if you don’t concentrate that power it will dissipate; It will sometimes work but never with certainty and repeatability.

There’s fear there. You know if you go small on an endeavor and get nothing, most won’t even remember that you tried and you can retreat back to your cubbie hole. But if you go hard and get nothing, everybody will remember that you tried and failed. And that scares me. I repeat. SCARES ME.

For the next few months, I am going to deeply consider what hope look likes in my consciousness and in web form and how many pieces I may have to shatter PoliteConversation.com into to get there. I may not change anything. Who knows. I just feel the need to do something different.