“…It’s Good to Be here…”--King on our Meeting

I was having a conversation with this Cat I met recently. We covered a lot of shit and came across some real common ground. We were chopping it up pretty good when King, this brother’s name, said to me “…It’s Good to be here…” My response was “…It’s All Good…”

I thought life was good when I was rolling flat screens out of Walmart’s without paying. Don’t laugh. That shit paid the bills. I thought life was good when I was promiscuous in relationships without any thoughts of commitment or the feelings of the women I was fucking over. Hey, that door swung both ways. Sometimes they fucked over me. I thought it was good when I was getting thru life by any damn means necessary. What can I tell you? It was easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. I thought it was good to be me when I was living by the principle ‘no one can tell me shit.’ Maybe this had something to do with being the youngest child of a woman who was so conflict averse she couldn’t bust an egg and the son of man who was fine, upstanding and professional in public and an alcoholic, domestic abuser and philander in private. I thought it was good to be me when I could and did whatever the fuck I pleased and rationalized it with ‘I am a visionary’ and ‘all this shit is about making moves.’ I regret none of this. Well, maybe that I didn’t find a way to teach a course on storytelling years ago… With the creative shit I can come up with, I could have had major cheese by now. But was It All Good?

I was sharing with my consigliere, Dr. JJ, about reading this book about the traits of the most successful people. The book stated a common trait of many of these individuals is they live life with their end in mind. Not just an end but their fucking end. They have seen the end and it ain’t them. I put the work down. It came to me how privileged I am today. Unlike 5, 4, or even 3 years ago, today I’m blessed. I can look my end square in the face without fear. I get to think about my funeral. I get to think about who I hope to see there and what they will fucking say about me. I shared with my consigliere about doing funerals as a pastor. I recalled doing this one funeral where a relative of the deceased got up to speak about their deceased loved one. As he rattled on for several minutes about the seminal virtues of this person, everyone including me was sitting there wondering “…who the hell are you talking about? Are you in the right damn funeral? Did you even know this fucking person?” I’m fortunate this ain’t my deal today. I ‘m privileged that shit doesn’t have to be how the fuck I’m going out. It’s good to be where I can look at the end of life and see in all this shit my Father’s business.

I can look at the end and smile about my past criminal shit If my story helps just one of those people standing around my casket live a better and more authentic and beautiful life. I can look at the end and smile about those piss-poor relationships if it helps one of those people around my casket learn the power in having and being grateful for trusted friends and loved ones on this journey. I can look at the end and smile about my addictive behaviors if it helps just one person around my casket learn the value in embracing the fucking gift of their faults before it’s too late  A line from a Negro Spiritual says “…if I can help someone as I pass along, if I can cheer someone with a word or song, if I can show someone they are traveling wrong, then my living is not in vain…” It’s All Good.

I was leaving the meeting I mentioned above. I got to my car and looked around at that Starbucks and the parking lot where we met. I thought to myself “…It’s good this shit ain’t all there is. I can see a new day and a brighter tomorrow…” My life partner Lucy and I were having dinner at the home of a friend. He has more money than God and is a big college football supporter. The subject of this business about young people getting paid by monetizing their Names, Images and Likenesses came up. He stated he felt paying these amateur athletes was going to destroy college football. Our of respect for Lucy, and this Cat’s old lady, I thought but didn’t say “…I don’t give a fuck…” I did say “…that is not my concern. I’m concerned about these young people and their families. I’m concerned about the communities that produced them and have been ripped off years by receiving little or no income from their talents and the other talent these communities have produced. This is what I care about…”

I see the young people from this Bright Futures Initiative learning right now the importance of building their brand stories and making and being the difference in their communities. I see them making money off their brands the right way and doing the right things. I had this young lady use a gang symbol and openly use gang language during one of recent podcast. Did she know the negative impact this could have on her brand and her life for years to come? Hell no. I see them learning these and many other important life lessons that can help today, tomorrow and towards having the bright futures they often only dream of. Hey, rich fucking futures too. I don’t guess I’ll look up and see that Cat around my casket. Oh well, I see all this other shit. It’s All Good.

Read more about the Hunter story In These Rooms.

The Struggle Continues...

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