made a mini documentary today, i post casually on my instagram notes. with each *heart* and comment, two feelings arise:

* wow. people care about this.

* this is just a documentary about me…will anyone care when they realize that?

i share a draft with my big cousin, cuz it feels right.

he gets it. my spirit is soothed and my heart is full, having this point of connection with my family. reassurance i didn’t need to explicitly ask for. being understood without having to explain.

i think about what the caption will read when i post it…

intentionally imperfect.

sounds good, but I know that really, it’s a slick way of explaining myself apologizing for the choices i made in choosing the clips, in how i edited, in the way i recorded the audio…

it’s a diary,

i remind myself.

something i was lead to share, but a diary, nonetheless.

this started as a voice memo that I made while cooking, savoring a rare moment of quiet and solitude in the kitchen where i was allowed to think. and i liked the thoughts i was having. so i recorded them. i liked the idea of having the sounds of the kitchen in my recording — i wanted to remember this moment, just as it was. and then i wanted to share it, just as it was.

i wanted you to hear the crunch of me chopping the red bell pepper i got weeks ago at the Korean market that managed to still be fresh and delicious. i wanted you to hear me peeling the skins off of cloves of garlic that sound like the loudest paper you would ever find. i wanted you to hear the water running from my faucet briefly.

i wanted you in that moment with me — so i brought you there.

i dug through my library of videos to find visuals to accompany my voice recording and constructed a non-linear timeline — proof that what i was speaking was truly wisdom earned. through over a decade of raising children, learning, growing, and noticing the different ways Spirit spoke to me.

i saw the proof.

throughout the years, through my own eyes.

“it’s so important to document and archive”

indeed.

my life is worth documenting. this docuseries of mine is worth celebrating and sharing, because i have lived.

this is memory work.

and it is significant that i care to remember.

stay tuned for entry #01.

in order of appearance:

voice of Martez Shakur (my firstborn son)

Kamila Shakur

my auntie’s miniature carousel

light fractals forming through a libation on my altar

a butterfly in my backyard (and plants, and other insects)

quotes from Lucille Cliffon poems via my Divining Poets oracle deck

a freeway in my hometown

recording of a presentation from the Time Zone Protocols Prime Meridian Unconference, featuring Sun Ra

a bonfire hosted by Black to the Land Coalition

Peace ✌🏿

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