Family, I want to share more of my creation tool —the Stillfire Method. It has been my way of shaping spoken word and storytelling for 15 years, —here are my five stages: • Stillness • Fire • Smoke • Ash • Ember ✍🏾 Stillfire Sermon Stillness I recite in the hush of city lampposts, flickering truth over grassroots misinformed by corner-store wisdom and expired dreams. Fire Stuff like that make you lose hope in humanity— like drizzle to downpour, we stand idly by while cardboard convictions float down storm drains. Smoke Hope curls beside hunger, sharing a blanket of breath and borrowed time. Graffiti bleeds like scripture— tagged in tongues only the broken can translate. Ash I’ve seen joy evicted, its laughter boxed up in black trash bags. Watched mothers spell “abandonment” before their children learned their names. Ember But still— children chalk galaxies on sidewalks, daring the stars to remember their names. Still fire. Still burning. Still becoming. 💬 Prompt for You: Where in your life or community do you see Stillfire—the ember that refuses to die? Share below so we can build testimony together.

Think of a moment when your story rose like fire—but you didn’t speak. Maybe your body froze. Maybe the silence felt safer. Maybe the words weren’t ready. What was burning to be spoken? What was held in the pause? What did that moment teach you about your voice, your breath, or your rhythm? 🔥🌬️ Let the Page Hold What the Moment Couldn’t Your story doesn’t have to shout to be heard. Your silence doesn’t have to mean you’re not ready. Let the page hold what the moment couldn’t. 🌀 Take 10 minutes. 🌬️ Breathe. ✍🏽 Write. Then, if you feel called—share a line, a word, or a rhythm from your journal in the comments. We witness in silence. We witness in fire. We witness together. 👇 Drop your reflection below or simply type “I wrote.” That’s enough. That’s everything.

Before we begin, I want to name something essential. This space is built on trust, rhythm, and witness. What we share here—our stories, our silences, our truths—is not content. It’s sacred. By entering this circle, you agree to hold confidentiality—not just as a rule, but as a practice of care. That means: 1. You do not share anyone’s story outside this space—not in conversation, not online, not in passing. 2. You do not record, repost, or repurpose anything shared here without explicit consent. 3. You honor the emotional and creative boundaries of each participant, even if their story moves you deeply. This includes the course content itself. The Stillfire method, rituals, and prompts are offered for your transformation—not for public distribution. If you ever feel unsure about what’s okay to share, pause and ask. Silence is welcome here. Let’s protect this circle with the same care we bring to our stories. If you agree to hold this space with integrity, please place a hand over your heart and with the other, feel the breath out of your mouth as you say: ‘I witness.’ (You are encouraged to type 'I witness' in the comments to seal your agreement.)

Have you ever felt like your story is on fire, but your body is asking for stillness? Let’s talk about how we honor both. Have you ever felt it? That moment when your story rises like flame— urgent, raw, ready to be spoken— but your body says, not yet. Your breath slows. Your chest tightens. You crave silence, not spotlight. This is the tension we hold in Stillfire. The fire of truth. The stillness of presence. Both are sacred. Both are needed. You don’t have to choose between urgency and rest. You don’t have to perform your pain or silence your power. You can speak with rhythm. You can pause with purpose. You can be witnessed without rushing. So let’s talk. 🌀 What’s one story that’s burning inside you right now? 🌬️ What’s one way your body is asking for stillness? Drop your reflections below—or just breathe with us in silence. In this circle, even your pause is a kind of poetry. 👇 Leave a word, a breath, or a beat. We’re listening.

You’ve been told to speak up. You’ve also been told to quiet down. You’ve been praised for your passion—then punished for your pause. So let me ask you something: What if the power of your story isn’t in choosing between fire or stillness… but in learning to harness both? That’s what Stillfire is. It’s not a writing technique. It’s not a performance trick. It’s a method—a rhythm—a remembering. Stillfire is the moment your voice rises with urgency… and the moment you pause, and let the silence carry what words cannot. It’s the breath between the lines. The beat that makes your truth land. The witness who listens without needing to fix. If you’ve ever felt like your story was too raw, too quiet, too loud, too late— Stillfire was made for you. Because your story isn’t too much. And it’s not, not enough. It’s exactly what this world needs—when spoken with rhythm, breath, and presence. 🌀 Join us inside the circle. We’re not here to perform. We’re here to transform. 👇 Drop a 🔥 if you’re ready to awaken the witness within.