Brass Tacks: Never Leave Me Alone

Shot from the film If I Go Will They Miss Me

In this life, in this unfairness, as I berate my mind and assault the world with questions and inquiry, it reverberates with a silence so deafening that most would falter, but my scream grows louder. Louder and louder, and still no answer, but that is what my people taught me to do. Keep screaming till something speaks back, no matter how faint, because that is what you deserve. A boy is still alone in that archipelago, yelling and waiting for a response, but he has learned a lot about this world and the deal he signed long ago. Amid all the confusion and complexity, he found that life was simple. Simple in many ways, but on that day, the simplicity whispered so faintly it flew by like a passing dream amid the stampede that flutters with hopes and doubts. Life is a constant battle, a forever fight to determine who you are. Simple but hard. A hardness that is tactile, in that every life you live has an inherent minus to it. Every decision has a consequence that takes something else away. This is the brilliance of the sadism of hardness; it is everywhere in our world because we bring it on, and it is baked into every system. As hard as it may be to love yourself or life in its totality and mass, the first step is to see the beauty in a human and, if not a human, an animal, and if not an animal, a flower and not a flower the dirt, and not the dirt your own ability to recognize that this is a place where you exist. To change a thought, all it takes is thinking of another one. As the boy sat on the rock, he heard the world say that simplicity is a decision of movement; it is what we do every day of our lives. A step forward, a blink, a breath in and out- the many acts that make up the whole of the individual or the community, and just adding one more. As he heard that, sitting on the rocks, he smiled a bit because this was the first time he had received some direction.

Direction, distinction, and purpose are all words of the same coin leading to different parts of the same place. They remind me of the quote by the architect Louis Kahn, “Even a brick wants to be something. A brick wants to be something. It aspires. Even a common, ordinary brick…wants to be something more than it is. It wants to be something better than it is.” The beauty in buildings, the purpose and craft that they have throughout the ages and times from Classical, Romanesque, Gothic, to Baroque, Art Deco, Bauhaus our buildings are determined by the times and the people who live inside of them. People are as much defined by what they do as by where they live. Location, location, location rings true in many respects, and the home and the person it is for ring loudest against the bricks and the wood. As definitive as these times and architectural styles are, the single brick is definitive to them and the world itself. Making a single brick is arduous. You have to mix clay or shale with water and sand, then shape the mixture into a brick, and not all bricks are made the same. Then comes the drying and baking at high temperatures. The point is that even a brick takes care, and that even a lowly brick wants to be something. A brick, as worthless as we think it is, has a nature, a belief, an orientation, and a purpose in this life. The brick has a path it walks, just like you and the person next to you. Some people miss this and see it as a brick. Something to place on top of something. Place it on top of itself. Or to destroy it, throw it at another, causing harm and violence. The Brick is a weapon! The Brick is a tool! The Brick is a means to get to the real materials!

Louis Kahn

Do you see the quiet supplication the brick falls to? In this abuse, in its oppression, there are those out there, architects or not, who see the brick for what it is. They take the brick aside and speak to it. They learn its strength under compression, how it falters under tension; it has never done well facing that. After you both talk for a while, you see and hear the Brick's purpose; you know what it deserves. The Brick, like you, has a purpose, a nature that it was born with. Neither you nor the Brick has a full understanding of how or why, but you happen to come into form that way, fully realized, fully given. The beauty of your life is a gift, after all. The real wisdom, the real truth, is seeing that beauty, seeing the master craft before you, and respecting it. Listen to the singing of the cherubim; do not turn away out of fear or misunderstanding. Sit there and bask in it, and after some time you understand it; you hear what they are playing. Do not tell them to switch or sing something you know, imposing your will on them. Sit there and hear their beauty no matter how it confuses or opposes you; let those kids sing. “You say to brick, “What do you want, brick?” Brick says to you, “I like an arch.” If you say to Brick, “Arches are expensive, and I can use a concrete lintel over an opening. What do you think of that, Brick?” Brick says, “I like an arch.” Let that boy become an arch.

Becoming the arch, although it may be your path, your purpose, or your reasoning, is the most difficult thing that life places in front of you. In it is the constant tug and pull that makes life what it is as the sea yanks and the sands strain; the wave is brought between the two, battered and afraid of what to choose, and in there lies the challenge. You are born feeling what you love. Some know others find it, but we all feel it deep down. That there is one thing in life that brings you great joy. One thing in life you are gifted at and naturally inclined toward. An affinity that you love and care for at a young age; you have to find it, or it comes to you. Along with that is the enemy of your love for your gift. It attacks you through words, systems, and people always telling you to let go. People tell you you could never do it; no one around you has, so why should you? “I haven’t known anyone too…” “I’m not sure about that one; I would…” “If I were you, I think I would do this instead.” Dissent dissent dissent. Opinion opinion opinion. Through fear, dismissal, or dislike, they tell you to hold back from amplifying yourself and embodying your true being. The industry is failing, and it's the worst it's ever been, so why even try? You know you are another cog in the machine?” “You know they aren’t really doing well; they don’t get paid as you think.” Before you can even contend with the system, the community outside of it tells you not even to try. Not even graced with the chance to falter yourself, they tell you to leave it there because it is something, if not greater, it is outside of the realm of possibility for you. Your race, nationality, gender, or creed will stop you and only allow you to reach a certain point of success; after that, you can never go any farther. “Black people don’t really get too far in…” “you know to do that as a black man you gotta…” “being black in that industry, they will only allow you to…” Yes, yes, I know. Yes, I know how they see me, how they truly see me and what they see me for, how they interpret my mind and body before they can even hear a breath released from me. This is nothing new; it's the same system. As hard and relentless as it is for other people, it is much worse for black people, as all things are. Life reflects itself in many facets, and one of them is that, systemically, you have no chance, less than one. Even the gift itself will challenge you because it requires your attention; your love and focus are necessary to nurture and raise it to the stature it demands. Time and effort are required as much as the gift; they must be nurtured, not exploited. In the nurturing, it forms a hyperbolic time chamber, and you never know when it will release you to the outer world, so you must stay there out of time in space, waiting, waiting for something. Failure itself will hide in the tall grass, waiting to pull you back every time you think you have taken the final step toward wherever you believe you are supposed to go. That is the challenge that life presents. As harrowing and abrasive as it is, the greatest plea that man, woman, or child could ever give you is to love it anyway. Everything is hard and failing, as it always fails in your time because you will always think it was easier and better before; that is how life works.

We think the world is folding in on itself now through a virus years back, the growing feuds in politics, wars and pursuits of genocide hover close to the world, and the new development of AI. Not too long ago, every country in the world was fighting, and other people were facing a genocide; a weapon so destructive as to wipe away a city in seconds was dropped, and those countries faced financial turmoil as well. Then, after that, groups of people had to fight for their rights black people, Hispanic people, women- each with figures at the forefront as war loomed in the world. Black people fought and fought and may have achieved some victory, but many of their leaders were murdered in the process, and still we face those same challenges today. Life is filled with challenges, battles, and wars, but that is even more reason to bless the world with your gift and your purpose. Failure is the state of denial, not attempt. To deny the gift, to deny its eternal pursuit and evolution, is failure. To deny the very reason you were put on this Earth? That you were brought to give and bless others is failure. What good can you do accepting the lull? What good would Malcom X, Martin Luther King, Kwame Ture, James Baldwin, Nina Simone, Billie Holiday, Fred Hampton, A. Philip Randolph, Garrett Morgan, Booker Wright, and so many others whose names do not leave me, have done? What good would it have done if they had not blessed the world with their gift, if they had decided to accept? Nothing good comes from acceptance; all that comes is control and respite, two things that have use case, not inherent value. Understand the hardness seeps back into the door without approval. You can fail at the things you are reluctant or forced to do, so why not at least fail at what you love? You see, the hyperbolic time chamber is not waiting; it is the teaching and learning of the love you are about to share. It is the enhancement and maturation of the gift, so do not let it go to waste; do not fail. Please do not think that reaching the top of some arbitrary ladder is the point, because success is not linear; success has no definition or true clarity. A gathering of singular men and women determines what success is. If you sell this much, you are successful. If you win this award, you are successful.

For many, success starts with those arbitrary things. It may be winning a spelling bee or setting a rushing yards record in a game. However, the greatest successes in life have no barrier or sign that defines them. Success did not start at the spelling bee; it started when you helped your Grandfather read the newspaper because of how he grew up, and in his time he was not afforded that gift. Success is not the rushing yards record; it is grabbing the lost basketball in the yard for your brother who was too scared to get it as the dog barked. Your success is not in that tunnel, not in that vacuum. Your love is not inside of there. You think you found it there because a group clapped, but you found it in the quiet, in the stillness; that is where you found what you were meant for, what you loved to do. My brother, who has spoken of this idea many times, used to play with me as I played with toys and watched movies. He has a gift for storytelling and seeing the best in people. When I had a long or a hard day, I wanted to spend that time with him. Even on days I didn't want to, he would rope me into watching Gone With the Wind, Titanic, Lady Bird, or the countless other films that, if it were up to me, I'd dismiss and watch Avatar: The Last Airbender for the hundredth time. That was his success. It was not through competition or through a broader group or from recognition; it was by bonding, by teaching and showing another that there is more than what is told or seemingly allowed for you. His success, like all successes, is an ignition, not an achievement; it is the next flame passed to another. It is a torch not lit by oil or a lighter, but by sharing its radiance, not taking it. Gifting his brother the beauty in storytelling and how it moves people and puts you into their shoes and walk their steps for an hour or two and, on occasion, three. He was successful because he showed me its beauty, and it changed me for the better; still, these moments fill my head and come to mind almost every day. When an award or statue comes to mind, you see and understand what it means, sure, but to give that to someone you love or will never meet, what good is a statue to the betterment of another's life?

Shot from If I Go Will They Miss Me

The film If I Go Will They Miss Me illustrates these ideas even more beautifully. I recommend watching the film; it is one of the best-shot and most beautiful films this year, in a year with many that have that same description. It’s a beautiful film not about struggle, but about the challenges of embracing and letting go of the people we love, and how our influence and love affect them and who they become. The two main characters, Big Ant and Little Ant, show this beautifully. The running motif is planes and flying; you can tell Big Ant was a great artist who wanted to fly planes when he was young, but things happened, and circumstances changed, so he never even set foot on one. It seems to recur in each generation: Big Ant’s father wanted the same, and Little Ant loves them too, along with the artistry. His artistry is his gift, and through his father, he expresses it. He sees him as a god, more specifically Poseidon, given their love of the sea. As he keeps drawing and framing Big Ant this way, it troubles him because of the man he is and who he wants his son to become. Why should he be a god to anyone? Someone who fails more times they can count and still is not entirely sure how to be a great father what gives him the right? He does things to tear Little Ant down and build him up again, and Little Ant is torn and rebuilt by it; he is shadowed by his father’s past mistakes and beliefs, another puppet on strings, being puppeteered by the same puppet with another master. His mother is there and loves him, but his father is the one who influences him. Given the recency, no need to go further, but out of the many beautiful themes and questions this movie poses, the one that strikes me continually is that we do not determine our gift and pursuit of it. A parent, sister, brother, friend, mentor, or anyone else in our life champions us and believes in what we can do. It may even be a passing stranger or another online across from the screen. That is the true nature of understanding that these talents are more than sources of income. They are enhancements and lifelines to communities and people close and far to you. As much as a gift brings something to another, the people who supported you brought the same. Even if it was a man you watched giving a speech telling you to chase it, you continued running because of him. Running where or how long- well, no one is ever sure of that, but the point is to run. Run as fast and as far and as long as you can because when you run hard enough, when enough people, when even one tells you to keep going, the enthralling thing about the world amidst the fire and brimstone as it screams and claws is that as the steps grow shallow and jagged you will always end up somewhere. That somewhere is usually the place you always belonged.

Mogobe Ramose

There is a popular quote in philosophy, and the world as a whole, that you have heard before. “I think, therefore I am.” The quote comes from René Descartes, and in the simplest terms, it means that the act of thinking and recognizing it proves that I exist. It’s a nice quote, and his teachings and ideas further deepen what it means to live in this world as a man or a woman, and what it means to exist and be. However, the quote, in its construction and acknowledgment, is individualistic. “I think, therefore I am” is a realization of the self’s existence, not the whole. Now, of course, if I think this, then you can think, and so can another, but the beauty and power of words is in the sentence and its construction. You and I are equally separate and individualistic, if not even more so. One of my favorite philosophical ideas comes from a humanist philosophy from South Africa. Ubuntu guides me. It is an ancient word roughly translated as “humanity to others,” and it comes from the Zulu proverb “Umuntu ngumuntu ngabantu,” meaning “a person is a person through other people.” Today, Ubuntu is commonly understood as “I am because we are.” We are human because others see and experience us as human. Our interconnectedness is the Godly embrace between us and all creation, from the environment to spirituality. You are realized through your relationships, through your involvement with others. A person is a person because of others, and through this support and community, a person enhances their life. We are a flock, a herd, a murder, a pride; we are together and human because we are together. Mogobe Ramose extends this philosophy, arguing that reality is actualized through this fundamental becoming and relation rather than fixed isolation among substances. His ontology is that of the wind and the clouds in dance as they sing with one another, or the sun and the moon as they roll over the bending sky basking in effulgence as itself runs hand in hand with others. That is your gift: that is the brick. As Brick becomes an arch, he supports the wall. The wall stands tall with its siblings to create the room, and the room holds up his sister and stands on the shoulders of his friend to form the building. The people are gathering together, speaking, arguing, the whole cacophony that makes humans human, and in that is where the community comes where I am because we are. Still, one day someone will come and try to tear the building down through zoning or profit, with I’s and You’s that hold more wealth than we do. When that time comes, more often than not the building falls and we disperse, forming different communities in different buildings. We teach each other songs and dances, learn from each other’s stories, and help one another with writing or math. We gift ourselves in new and distant places, but at a certain point one building will be left: one we and other I’s and You’s. When it happens, as it does, the real question comes: “I think, therefore I am”; “I am because we are” statements of existence become questions of being. During that time, look at each group and ask what it means to be alone.