We welcomed @Rasheed Hooda @Kevin Michael Brown and @Rena Nicole to our weekly workshop and talked all things ballon’s and book writing, Ai assistance and apps! Join us next week with a new question to consider: What world are you currently building?

A traveler walks into a village carrying a heavy backpack. The villagers ask, “What’s in there?” He says, “All the mistakes I’ve ever made.” They laugh and say, “Why carry that around?” So he shrugs, sets it down… and immediately picks up a bigger bag labeled “What people think of me.” Moral: Some baggage isn’t even yours—but it’s the heaviest kind to carry. #renanicole

A Chapter from the Book of Return by R.N.Morabe When Adam died, he expected answers. He expected scales and books and the solemn architecture of judgment. He expected the weight of all his years to gather around him and tell him, at last, what his life had meant. Instead, he woke in a field of silver grass beneath a sky that shimmered like the inside of a pearl. No sun. No moon. And yet everything glowed. The air was cool and sweet with the scent of fig leaves after rain. In the distance, a river wound through the land like a ribbon of living glass, and every blade of grass seemed to hum with a music too soft to hear and too true to ignore. Adam sat up slowly. His body no longer ached. The old heaviness was gone—the burden of years, the labor in his bones, the ache of regret he had carried even when he had no words for it. He stood. “Am I dead?” he asked aloud. The field did not answer in language, but something in it bent gently toward him, as if to say: You have passed through. Ahead, there stood a gate. But it was not the gate he remembered. There was no flaming sword. No cherubim barring the way. This gate was woven from light itself—living light, warm and conscious, as if it had been spun from mercy and memory together. Adam took one step toward it. Then he heard a voice behind him. “You still walk as though you are trying to return to something behind you.” He froze. A woman stood beneath a great fig tree whose roots shimmered beneath the earth like veins of gold. Her hair moved in the windless air as if stirred by invisible tides. Her face held the stillness of ancient stone and the danger of uncharted night, yet there was no malice in her. Only presence. A presence so complete it unsettled him. He knew her before he allowed himself to know her. “Lilith,” he said. Lilith regarded him in silence. No accusation in her gaze. No welcome, either. Only truth. Adam swallowed. “I thought you were gone.” Lilith tilted her head slightly.

Watch this show all the way through and let’s talk about the themes in the comments! This is going to be so much fun! 🤩 WATCH THE 2 minute TRAILER HERE 👇🏽

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DWZlHiwgMD4/?igsh=NTc4MTIwNjQ2YQ==