As I look inside of self and take inventory of what’s buried there, I find a multiplicity of demons and unresolved issues. With Father’s Day having just passed, I’ve given significant thought to the science of fatherhood and the highly important role fathers play in the lives of their children when they embrace the position. Naturally, I drew it up through my culture, as the founder of our nation is The Father Allah. The fact that we refer to the God as such makes the idea of him serving as such a figure to the Gods he taught rather self-evident. Filtering this idea even further, through the scope of our build point curriculum, “father” continues to be a resonant concept. Our language symbiotically syncs father with equality because he’s supposed to be the ultimate stabilizing force which brings balance to the cipher while maintaining it within the family structure. Our knowledge degree states that the original man is the father of civilization. An examination of the definition of civilization, made manifest in the knowledge god degree, speaks volumes about the brevity of this title. If civilization means one having knowledge, wisdom, understanding, culture, and refinement, and is not a savage in the pursuit of happiness then its father is the source of these elements. Hence, the gaping vacuum which appears when he’s not present to do this all important justice cipher born of providing them.
I have quite a bit of issue-laden Koran with my ole’ dad. He’s not a bad person by any stretch of the imagination, but as a father, he leaves much to be desired. He left C-Medina when I was power and my brother was understanding. Since then, I have enough fingers on both hands, excluding thumbs, to count the number of times I have seen him. To his credit, he always made it abundantly clear that he loved us and he also kept in touch via letters and phone calls. That being said, physical presence is required to fully be a father. Understanding cipher years have passed and I can honestly say that he and I have made very little headway with regard to truly getting to know one another. He thinks he knows me but I know he doesn’t. The dynamic between us is weird because we’re more like two dudes who are somewhat cool with each other than a father and son. That father/son bond is forged through experience and overcoming trials and tribulations together. There’s a level of trust which has to develop over time after a lot of showing and proving has taken place. Without the presence of those variables, we’re having a hard time establishing the most peace equality that we could possibly have. I don’t think he really comprehends how much I needed him at critical points in my life. He’s the one who should’ve been there to teach me how to drive. He should have built with me after I got my first shot of power u, and started drinkin’ and smokin’ and shit. When I was fuckin’ up in college we should’ve had the type of relationship that made me want to refine my self so I could make him proud. Even though I did deal with refinement, it wasn’t because I wanted to make him proud. I wanted to show and prove to my self and my ole’ Earth that I could do it, and make good on my end of the deal that he and I made when he put up some money so I could earn my financial aid back. There were so many things I had to figure out on my own because he wasn’t there to teach me, many of which I’m just now figuring out.
Am I bitter about some of the above? Indeed, at least to some degree I certainly am. Do I need to let it go? Why equal self! That sentiment yields no benefit to my psyche at all and its inherent toxicity alone should make me determined to remove it from my planet. Needless to say, this is easier said than done. I’m workin’ on it, but I need to work harder. The blackman’s experience in the wilderness of North America involves a cumulative series of events which rattle him over the course of his life. The aftershock from these rattling experiences is exhibited through the anger that we harbor, and the vices through which we strive to cope with and/or suppress it. On face value, I may not appear to be an angry person. Believe me I am. I keep it in a fine mist by retreating to a place of solitude where I can process it and prevent it from stinging others. I’m angry at my ole’ dad for leaving that hole in my life. I’m angry at myself for continually falling victim to this anger toward him. This anger of which I speak is simply a current of air self cipher it comes and goes. Every blackman has shit that he’s angry about. That anger could represent any of a number of different nurse’s needles that wage war on his mind each and every day. This isn’t a cry for pity because that’s not what we need. It’s just a statement of fact. To all the wisdoms out there take some time to build with your man about some of the things that really grind his gears and have him reverse engineer his history to their genesis. That’s how you show and prove that you endeavor to knowledge God.