MORNING FOG

I sit here on the bottom bunk. I just cleaned the cell. A home-made incense is burning. Thick morning fog is outside my window so there’s no movement on the compound. It’s quiet. I stare into the fog. I usually have a good view for a prison cell. I can see the highway… city lights at night… trees, cornfields, and a church called Solid Rock that has a sixty-two foot Jesus rising out of the ground as the highlight of its landscape. But with the fog… my usual view doesn’t exist.

As I thought about what to write, the Sun began to shine, and behold, the fog began to die. It dawned on me that Reality will be Reality in spite of the fog or conditions that surround it. My view of the world still existed even though I couldn’t see it. Jesus was still outside, just like the trees and the highway. The presence of fog couldn’t replace or erase all of the images that remind me of Freedom and bring me peace of mind. Fog could only cover up these images temporarily.

And with light, the fog had to leave. This is profound to me.

Prison is a fog. It surrounds me but it doesn’t change my definition. Knowledge is often described as light, and since I know myself, there can be no fog in how I view myself.

This blog is a means to make myself known to you… to enlighten you. And with this light, liberation must follow. It has to. For to acknowledge a thing is to begin the process of changing it.

Prison is my fog. I acknowledge it, I don’t agree with it, and I WILL change it. God did not create me to be buried in a cloud of politics. That is why my story must reach you. If only to question your own fog… if only to inspire you to ask “What clouds my perception of myself?”

Sometimes we are misunderstood in relationships. We communicate our feelings and our beloved hears something different from what we intend to relate. What fog stands between you two? Why are you not being seen clearly for what and who you are?

You see, I am only a symbol. My struggle for justice is only relevant in its ability to help others.

Freedom & Purpose

Sol Amen Ra


Please feel free to write or email me at:

SOL AMEN RA
249-504 BOYD
P.O. BOX 120
LEBANON, OH 45036

email: Solamenra@gmail.com
(note: Email replies will take from 10 to 14 days)

MY STORY

I was raised by women. My grandmother Mildred was the matriarch. She was an obese woman who ruled our family from a Lay-Z-Boy recliner. Her sister Dorothy was blind. She too lived alone. But I always doubted her blindness because she was so independent and mobile. Nevertheless both of these women were magical to me, and both were taken care of by my mother.

Mom had four children. I’m the third. By the time we moved away from granny I was eight and my older siblings were teenagers involved in their individual lifestyles. I grew into the role of Moma’s helper. Her ‘Lil Man’ as she called me.

I grew up watching her fight a system that seemed designed to cripple her. For if she worked a minimum wage job they raised our rent. But, if she accepted welfare the rent was low and she was able to do more for us.

By age 12 I had grown into a sense of self. It was my role/responsibility to lighten the load for her. At least carry my own weight and look out for my Lil’ brother. And so I began my journey into manhood. I worked Summer jobs, raked leaves in the Fall, shoveled snow in the Winter… whatever it took to make money. I stole her pain medication and sold them at school. That was my introduction to drug money.

Then I sold weed. I was busted doing both, but the consequences weren’t harsh because I was a good kid. My school had an undercover narc who busted me with the pills. My older sister ratted me out with the weed.

Lessons Learned:
1) Good grades and nice manners would protect me from harsh consequences
2) Trust no one

In 1986, I was 13 and crack was making young people rich. Naturally I followed it’s trail to wealth. But wealth was not my objective and I quickly spotted the difference between my peers and myself. They didn’t straddle the fence between school and the streets. I did. Selling crack was like a job to me. I’d go to the block to earn my quota then leave. I couldn’t be flashy with my friends because I had to conceal my lifestyle from my mother. I couldn’t embrace the reputation of being a drug dealer because I didn’t want to embarrass her. Also, at the time, she would have killed me had she known what I was doing.

And so she worked her 8 hours, and I did all of my dirt while she was gone. Her enemies were the bills until she unconsciously began to depend on my aid. By the time she found out what I was doing it was too late. She found dope at the house, flushed it down the toilet and threatened to kick me out. But it was too late. As a freshman in high school I had too many resources to worry about her threats.

I had a new family… in the streets.




March, 26

Love,

Why should the most beautiful of human emotions have to be the most difficult to express in terms of human relationships?

When a man loves words, he becomes a poet... When he loves thought he becomes a philosoher... When he loves creativity, he becomes an artist. Love enhances man. It makes him bigger and better. When people, total strangers read his poetry, study his philosophy or witness his art, they too experience his love. They will exchange currency to purchase a card with his poetry, his book or his painting. Love makes man great.

Perhaps now you can understand why I advocate Self Love. Just as man loves words and blossoms as a poet, I love mySelf and blossoms as divine. I am poet, philosopher, and artist. I am a creator. You can share in my beauty, but I do not want to be possessed. The outcome is always the same. I do not intend to place limits on what we share. In fact, I want to destroy limitations. It is my personal observation that all limitations are mental. We think things should be a certain way, and that perception ultimately places bounds on how far our emotions can travel.

It is my belief that if you love your Self, you will enter your own poetry, your own rhythm. You will obey that rhythm. There may come a time when having sex with another man will make you feel dirty because he is not me; because he is not One with your rhythm. You will obey that. Not because I tell you not to have sex... not because I think that you should deny yourself because of your Love for me... You will obey your Self - you will Love and Honor your Self. In honoring Self you will honor me. That will be evidence of our Oneness. Do you see what I am saying?

I Love my Self. I want you to Love your Self. This will guarantee us longevity. No deceptions can exist - only Love in its purest form. As an artist I will not pick you out of the ground and place you in a vase. I will not possess your beauty for a short while. Instead, I will paint you and capture your greatness eternally.

Can you see the difference between possession and Love?

Lovers grow togehter and appreciate each other. Possession always leads to death.

-One

(an excerpt from Songs of Sol by Sol Amen Ra)



I welcome your comments and/or support

Sol Amen Ra
249-504 Boyd
P.O. Box 120
Lebanon, OH 45036

Solamenra@gmail.com
(email replies will take between 7 and 14 days)