Still...

A Meditation on Purpose, Belief, and Forward Motion.

Habari gani?¹

We all deserve a collective sigh. I think we all need it.

Inhale…2…3.

exhale.

…and fix your face.

Slim, 2025. That alone is an entire sentence and sentiment. lordt. This year has yeared like a mō-faux. In addition to the fascism, economic wilds, Sudan, Congo, Palestine, white supremacist delusion, Epstein redactions, Supreme grand dragon Courts, a dystopian zeitgeist, ICE, abductions… I mean, young. I survived the Reagan era, crack epidemics, drug wars—so as far as dealing with the isms, this is Thursday. But the reel-it-back-to-the-50s energy some of these YTs are engaging in, along with the number of skinfolk Harriet would have shot, pushing up on Turning Point like pick-me massa, is wild egregious.

The whole kill is that we can all point fingers. We can identify the ills and ailments and diagnose the disease. We can cast aspersions, hurl accusations, and hit dogs that holler—but what are the solutions? I believe in community in the truest sense of the word. Not a gathering of giggling geese, animal-farming our way through a maze of silos and groupthink, but community in the “we got you”—unconditional, grace-laden—gathering of folks who understand that we should be on our Ujima, Nia, and 2nd amendment 5/2/67 Panthers on the Sacramento steps type shit. Whether you rock with Kwanzaa and Benelli Super Novas² or nah, the idea of us solving our problems together is the current wave. But the we have to be sure that we gatekeep our language, movements, collective dollars, spirituality, and how we’re going to both gather us up and together—it’s real g’s moving lasagna silent time.

The year is wrapping up, and how we move into this new cycle is what will make the difference in how we manage until Karma sees fit to let these chickens continue to roost. What’s hit my heart and has me in a lock is doing the things. As a cancer survivor, I’ve already interrogated the idea of mortality. So it’s not the fear of dying that’s at the forefront of my therapy sessions, but the concept of legacy—the unfinished, the unresolved. I’m currently watching my pops go through some dementia thing. I say thing becuase he has these moments of lucidity and believe me, I’m not being flippant at all, I’m just saying that at a certain age, and with the way modern medicine hands out drugs with a litany of side effects, my mans may not have dementia, but could quite possibly be in the throes of those of an infection and his meds and the side effects they speed-talk through while some upbeat pop track underscores the fade out on a sunset and smiling patient.

Experiencing all this is a further reminder that tomorrow—hell, the next ten minutes—ain’t guaranteed. Nothing is promised. Personally, this year hasn’t let up on when and where it’s Vibram-soled Tim has been on my neck with what feels like constant pressure on my bumper. At the same time, it has gifted me personal bests, firsts, revelations about relationships and character, and perspective and lessons I absolutely needed. I’ve been able to shed in physical, mental, and musical contexts. Gratitude has become the foundation—with practice—confronting the unknown, stepping out on belief, doing the work, participating in process, all in preparation for whatever is next or on my radar, and in doing all of the things.

Around my solar rotation, these synapses started connecting moments to provide grounding for the next steps in this idea of doing all of the things. My good friend Rev. Bill Lee once gave a sermon about gifts and callings being without repentance—meaning God doesn’t do take-backsies, and the gifts within you and the callings on your life are irrevocable. Marcus J. Moore and Jason Reynolds hipped me to the mantra “Writers, write!” which, for me, translated to: whatever the vocation, keep doing the thing. I also had the good fortune of running into my man Reggie Black in CDMX, who dropped solid gems during our conversations—mostly around existing outside the confines of expectations and fixed ideas of what we deem as “home,” and how, through shedding those concepts, true freedom will take shape and root.

These moments fueled my understanding that who I am won’t change as far as what’s for me—the career path I’ve chosen, the gifts I’ve been blessed with. In doing what you do, you have to keep doing it. It’s not Captain Obvious, but quitting isn’t an option if you say you want to do something. Time, rigor, and opportunity are factors, but the act of doing—and the faith to continue doing—is purely on you. Letting go of being tethered to malleable definitions is freedom from everybody else’s shit. People have luggage; sometimes they want to pass their luggage on to you, even when your hands are full with your own luggage. Being vulnerable and aware enough to recognize your own baggage is key to making sure you don't walk away with theirs.

So I’m good…for now. I’m ready to make more music, new art, new intellectual property, and a new book. I’m no longer tethered to what my idea of home is, yes, it’s three stars two bars forever, but these Wards can’t hold me hostage when golden passports and visa programs exist. I’m leaving myself open for change, leaning into completing my almost 10-year journey with tattoo therapy and allowing the waves of life erase any lines I may have drawn in haste in the sands of my destiny, because the ability to move accordingly and pivot as needed is a must going forward. I’m excited for what the next 365 will make manifest.

In the days leading up to the change in year and a new opportunity to reframe—make resolutions and promises you may or may not keep—do yourself a solid and meditate on what you want to do, who you imagine yourself to be, and the concepts that have you tethered. Practice making the move while believing that the god or energy of your own understanding—even if that energy is yourself—can be trusted to carry you through. Embrace that your gifts are irrevocable, that the calling on your life is indelible, and that sometimes the only thing holding you back is you. Take an honest census of who you call a friend, what you believe friendship is, what community means to you, and what those concepts represent in doing all of the things.

Lean into gratitude—from the mundane to the grandiose. Count the little miracles as just that: miraculous. Attribute some of your wins to your hard work and be proud of that, because it’s absolutely ok (and sometimes a necessity) to run the resume and talk your shit. Celebrate when faith meets opportunity, and the sweat equity invested, because we only get one go at this life piece. What’s on your headstone or in the obituary—whether a single line or a feature film—still rests firmly on you deciding to do the things.

Doers do, slim.

Ain’t no way around the work.

easy,
k

about:
KOKAYI
Artist | Author | Speaker | Producer | Preeminent Improvisational Vocalist, GRAMMY-nominated musician, and multidisciplinary fine artist, is a Guggenheim Fellow for Music Composition (the first emcee to have achieved this distinction). Host of the Interledger Foundation’s Future/Money podcast. Author of You Are Ketchup: and Other Fly Music Tales, creator of HUBRI$ and Blackness and the Infinite Potential Well, whose artistry and work reflect a rich tapestry of life experiences shaped by DC and the cultural innovations of the Black diaspora—an enduring legacy that continues to shape the world, often without the proper recognition. Here for all the panel discussions, podcast yakkin’, DJ gigs, and keynote addresses, should you need me, holla.

where to holla: Website IG Linkedin

1. What’s the news? in Swahili. It’s a Kwanzaa thing, do the Googles and/or the Safaris.

2. shoutout K. Mayfield for the 2nd Amendment wishlist assistance.