Recently I found out that my great grandfather on my pop’s mom’s side was Bahamian no wonder I liked being out over sea plus it doubles down my Gullah heritage as well with the strong connection between the two😁
Recently I found out that my great grandfather on my pop’s mom’s side was Bahamian no wonder I liked being out over sea plus it doubles down my Gullah heritage as well with the strong connection between the two😁
Looking for an environmental, a sfx & a creature artist who fit all 3 requirements below
-Must be a drawing &/or digital drawing artist, no painters
-Must be between the ages of 26 & 32, I want to strictly work with other individuals within a reasonable age radius of mine being 29
-Must be a black person whether you’re a diaspora like me or from the ancestors continent of Alkebulan(Africa), this is a story with all black characters I’ve been working on & I want to have an all black team behind it of individuals who would be able to bring the story to life
If you don’t fit all 3 requirements it’s an automatic deal breaker
Side Note: I’m also looking for Translators who are versed in the West African languages of Hausa, Igbo, Yoruba, Wolof, Fulani, Fon, Twi & Ewe as well as the East African languages of Afar, Oromo, Nuer, Dinka & Luo☝🏾

Happy first day of Kwanzaa to all the diaspora like me who celebrate the holiday✊🏾🟥⬛🟩 & for those of us who don’t I wish peaceful & productive days through the remainder of December☝🏾
Resentment is a complex emotion, even though, it does not get build overnight but is a result of many issues moved under the carpet, with an assumption they might miraculously get solved on their own.
which then become a major cause of toxicity, which actually starts to brew from thoughts to perception, finally impacting our overall well being, including those of closely related to us.
It is…
I move in my own tide.
No world can hurry me.
Pressure is not mine.
I let it pass through.
If it tightens, I stop.
My body knows the way.
The fog is not a failure.
It is the place before clarity.
My yes is sacred.
I give it only when it opens me.
Nothing urgent is true for me.
I wait.
My truth settles.
I stand at the edge,
where the air is clear,
where rhythm returns.
I live by inner time.
Quiet.
Steady.
Whole.
The Most Powerful Inner Work You Can Do — And Nobody Told You | OneShruti
This video explains why self-inquiry is important and how it can change your life. You’ll learn how early beliefs shape you, how to observe yourself with awareness, and how to understand what truly feels right for you. With simple daily practices, self-inquiry helps you find clarity, inner peace, and a deeper connection with yourself.
Human Design and Taoist wisdom converge here: truth arises when effort dissolves.
You are designed not to “push” but to respond — to allow what resonates to unfold through form and silence.
The text speaks of dreams only briefly, yet what it implies is profound. It does not treat dreams as messages to decode, nor as omens or prophecies. It treats them as movements of the spirit when it has not yet returned fully to its centre. This view is simple, and perhaps that is why it is so easy to overlook.
[[MORE]]Dreams as Movements of an Unsettled Heart
Dreams arise when the Conscious Spirit (shi shen) — the emotional, thinking, remembering mind — remains active after the body falls asleep. When the Light is not gathered in the Heavenly Heart, the spirit continues to wander through impressions, memory, fear, and desire. This wandering is what we call dreaming.
The text describes it indirectly: when the heart is stirred, the breath becomes uneven. If the breath is uneven, the Light cannot circulate. And when the Light does not circulate, spirit leaves its dwelling. In waking life, this appears as distraction or restlessness. In sleep, it becomes dreaming.
So dreams are not seen as meaningful in themselves. They are signs of how far or how near the spirit is from its centre.
Types of Dreams in the Light of the Teaching
Through the principles of the text, I can understand three kinds of dreaming:
On Fox-Spirits and “Heavenly” Illusions
We spoke earlier about fox-spirits. They are symbols for psychic illusion — phenomena that shine but do not come from the centre. In dreams this appears as visions, mystical experiences, prophetic scenes. The danger is that the mind becomes fascinated and identifies with them. One begins to believe one is chosen or awakened, while the Light has not truly returned inward.
The book warns:
Both are diversions from the path of returning the Light to its source.
Why This View Is Rarely Spoken of Today
I understand now why I haven’t seen this explanation anywhere else. It gives no importance to dreams. It does not feed ego, self-narrative or myth. It says: your dreams are simply your heart still moving when it should be resting. Modern spirituality often prefers meaning, symbolism, and personal destiny. Psychology prefers analysis or neurology. The Golden Flower offers neither. It points only to awareness itself.
Dreams, in this teaching, are not to be interpreted — they are to be understood as signals of where spirit is placed.
Sleeping Within the Light
The text implies that true rest comes when the Light remains in the Heavenly Heart throughout sleep. Breath becomes fine, almost invisible. The pulse slows. The body sleeps but awareness remains like a clear lake beneath the night. It is not thought. It is not control. It is presence without movement.
This is what the ancient sages meant when they said:
“Sleep without dreaming, yet without being unaware.”
“Spirit stays at home; breath moves like mist.”
🌙 Closing Reflection
When the heart is stirred,
dreams rise like mist from water.
When the heart is quiet,
the water becomes still
and the moon appears.
The task is not to chase the mist
nor to interpret its shapes.
The task is simply to return
— again and again —
to the clarity beneath.
Dreams are movements of wind.
The Light is the mountain.
One passes.
One remains.
Sometimes I see myself as someone who’s grown a lot — especially when I look back at who I was 10 or 15 years ago. But there are also times when I feel like I’m still stuck in the same moment, not moving forward at all.
Some days, I feel on top of the world — confident about who I am and what I’ve achieved. Other days, my doubts creep in, and I start listing everything I still need to improve.
One day, I’m full of motivation to push myself and grow. The next, I’m tired of constantly fighting or comparing myself to people who aren’t even my real competition.
But maybe that’s just what living — and growing — really is. It’s realizing what we still lack, while also learning to appreciate what’s already strong in us. It’s understanding ourselves from every angle, so we can see the full picture — not just the highlights or the flaws.
Re:MindMe is a reflective space for that process — a way to understand myself better, without rushing to “fix” anything.
Maybe awareness isn’t about becoming someone new. Maybe it’s just about answering the messages we once ignored, and letting that honesty shape who we become next.
— Re:Me
We’ve all faced moments when holding on feels like the only option. Maybe it’s a relationship you’ve invested years in, a dream you’ve nurtured since childhood, or a job you’ve poured your energy into. The idea of “letting go” can feel like failure, weakness, or even betrayal of the effort you’ve already given. Our culture often praises persistence—*never give up*, we’re told, *winners don’t…

Life has a way of knocking us down when we least expect it. One moment, you’re riding high, fueled by dreams, love, or success, and the next, you’re staring at the wreckage of everything you once held dear. Maybe you’ve lost someone who was your anchor, seen your dreams turn to dust, or hit rock […]Setting Up for a Comeback: Rising from Rock Bottom

İnsanlar, özellikle şekilci veya eleştirel ortamlarda büyüyüp savunmaya geçtiklerinde, kırılganlıklarını ve gerçek duygularını gizleme ihtiyacı hissederler. Bu, “gösterirsem yargılanırım, terk edilir ya da zayıf görünürüm” korkusundan kaynaklanır.
Senin de savunmaya geçme refleksin, yeterince kabul görmeme kaygısına bağlı olabilir. Oysa o kırılgan yanın, en büyük gücün olabilir; çünkü samimiyet, bağ kurmanın en temel kapısıdır.
You forgot who you are —
because you stopped remembering.
Your dreams as a child weren’t foolish.
They were sacred.
To live, love, feel, cry, hope —
is a heroic act.

“The single horn of the unicorn represents the pineal gland, or third eye, which is the spiritual cognition center in the brain. The unicorn was adopted by the Mysteries as a symbol of the illumined spiritual nature of the initiate, the horn with which it defends itself being the flaming sword of the spiritual doctrine, against which nothing can prevail.”
–Manly P. Hall / The Secret Teachings of All Ages
There comes a moment when staying in the old skin feels heavier than stepping into the unknown.
Just like the dragonfly, you too are meant to shed the layers that once protected you but now hold you back.
The process may seem quiet. Invisible. Messy even.
But what unfolds is beyond beautiful.
Not a new you.
A TRUER you.
Let yourself outgrow what no longer reflects your truth.
Let yourself be seen in your full light.
Let yourself touch the magnificence waiting beneath the surface.
✨ Shed. Rise. Remember.
Learn what Self-realization (enlightenment) is and how to achieve it in this powerful video. Perfect for those on a spiritual quest or wanting to learn about deeper truths.
📺 Click and experience the light within you. ✨
Return… to the sanctuary within.
You’ve wandered far into the dance of sensation—
Now, come home.
🌿
It is not wrong to sell.
It is not wrong to offer beauty, utility, or inspiration in exchange.
But the danger lies in why and how—
in whether the act of creating is still sacred,
or if it has been contorted to meet invisible terms.
To give is sacred.
To offer what you create—freely or through fair exchange—is an act of wholeness, when it is done without distortion.
But to be used—to become a resource for profit, a means for another’s gain without honour or reciprocity—is not giving. It is extraction disguised as generosity.
[[MORE]]To stop feeding the machine is not to stop creating.
This is the first confusion the system ensures:
that if you do not play its game, your voice will vanish.
That silence from its stage is silence altogether.
But this is false.
You can still create,
but no longer for metrics—views, likes, shares.
You create for meaning. For presence. For truth.
Not for reach. Not for algorithms. Not for virality.
Example:
Instead of posting daily to appease an audience or platform,
you craft a body of work slowly, privately, on your own website.
No hashtags. No countdowns. No engagement tricks.
You release it when it’s ready—not when the feed demands it.
It does not need to “perform.” It needs to be.
To create without becoming currency
The machine tells you:
Monetise what you love.
Turn your art into income.
Earn while you sleep.
But this subtly shifts your art from expression to instrument.
Now it must justify itself—financially.
You are no longer free to explore. You are required to deliver.
And you feel it: that quiet twisting of intention.
You become “something” for them.
Not an artist, but a role—
A creator to be monetised,
a persona to be followed,
a node in their growth strategy.
This is not what you came here to be.
Your offering is not a product.
It is not a lever for someone else’s profit.
It is an extension of your presence—meant for connection, not conversion.
You may still give.
You may still exchange.
But on your terms.
From your ground.
Example:
A fractal artist begins by creating meditative images from silence.
Then a platform tells her: “These do well as phone wallpapers. Add text. Optimise for engagement.”
Now the work shifts—not from soul, but for market.
The art becomes product.
And she becomes the seller.
To create without becoming currency is to allow your art to exist beyond its marketability.
To let it remain whole, even if it earns nothing.
To honour what cannot be priced.
To speak without performing
Performance is not always theatrical.
Often, it is subtle.
It is adjusting your truth to fit an audience.
It is curating your image to remain palatable.
It is choosing words not for clarity, but for effect.
Example:
A writer shares deep, reflective insights.
But on social media, they notice that short, punchy posts get more traction.
So they begin to reduce, dilute, oversimplify.
The message becomes a performance of insight, not the insight itself.
To speak without performing is to refuse this compromise.
To let truth speak in its natural rhythm.
Even if fewer people hear it.
Even if the algorithm ignores it.
Even if it does not “go viral.”
The measure is not reach—it is integrity.
To be visible without being processed
In digital spaces, visibility often comes at a cost:
When you become visible, you also become data.
Tracked. Categorised. Monetised.
Your audience is not the only one watching—the machine is, too.
Example:
You host your work on a platform that offers visibility.
But every interaction—every view, click, keyword—is fed into an engine.
It uses your presence to sell ads.
It shapes what others see based on what you do.
Your visibility becomes raw material for the system.
To be visible without being processed means choosing spaces where you are not a product.
Where your art is shared, but not tracked.
Where your visitors are welcomed, but not converted.
This is why independence matters.
A personal site.
A simple page.
A quiet publication.
Where presence is not transaction.
Where no algorithm shapes the encounter.
Where no stranger owns the gate.
To be visible without being processed is rare—but it is real.
It begins with intention.
It is sustained by clarity.
And it requires the courage to walk a quieter path.
In this space, you are not currency.
You are witnessed.
In Essence
You are still creating.
But not to feed a system.
Not to win favour.
Not to climb a ladder that leads only back into itself.
You create because you are called to.
You share because it must be witnessed.
You build because it must exist in the world.
But your essence remains whole.
Not packaged. Not sold. Not split to fit a frame.
This is how you remember:
You are not the rain.
You are the mountain.
You are not here to be processed.
You are here to remain.
And that is enough.
The system does not coerce through force. It seduces through mirrors. Its architecture does not stand above you—it emerges within you. Its genius is not in domination, but in invitation.
It whispers promises in the language of your own longings:
visibility, purpose, recognition, safety, belonging, abundance.
It offers tools that feel like gifts, platforms that feel like stages, currencies that feel like freedom.
But behind every offer is a contract unspoken:
you will not receive without first surrendering your stillness.
This is the loop of extraction:
You enter seeking to gain, and by that very movement, you begin to lose.
Not immediately. Not violently.
But incrementally—through the small erosion of time, presence, autonomy, and truth.
You are told:
Create to be seen.
Share to be valued.
Work to earn your place.
Optimise, monetise, grow.
These sound like affirmations, but they are conditions—spoken by a system that feeds not on your fulfillment, but on your effort.
And yet, the door remains open. You are not forced to walk through it.
You do because you, too, hope to extract: attention from strangers, income from algorithms, relevance from the noise.
The system thrives because the extraction is mutual—or so it appears.
You desire, and the system responds.
You upload, it displays.
You produce, it distributes.
You sell, it counts.
But behind the interface, the true extraction is not mutual—it is asymmetrical.
You are not trading value. You are being mined.
Not just your work, but your rhythms, your patterns, your fatigue, your expectations.
What you hope to gain is dangled always just beyond reach—one more post, one more follower, one more feature.
But what the system gains is real and immediate:
Your data. Your time. Your dependence.
Desire becomes the leash.
But it is a leash made of your own longing, so it does not feel like bondage. It feels like hope.
And this is the trap:
To remain in pursuit of something that cannot be held, while offering yourself to be consumed in the process.
To confuse the appearance of movement with the presence of meaning.
To seek from the system the very wholeness it was designed to dissolve.
What we call evolution under this architecture is not the unfolding of being.
It is the engineering of effort.
A perfectly tuned loop:
Your hunger feeds the system, and the system feeds your hunger.
Each orbit tightens the bind.
And yet—
Freedom is not outside the loop.
It is in stepping out of it.
It begins with the clarity to see that not every desire is natural.
That many are planted—not by soul, but by architecture.
That stillness is not the absence of progress, but the return to essence.
And that true creation does not need validation to be real.
To stop feeding the machine is not to stop creating.
It is to create without becoming currency.
To speak without performing.
To be visible without being processed.
This is the quiet revolution:
To remember that what is most alive in you cannot be monetised,
and what is most true in you was never meant to be extracted.
The wheel turns by your movement.
But the mountain watches it all—and never forgets itself.