Once upon a time… In the summer of 2006 to be exact.
My son flopped down on the ground, exasperated at the indignity of being at this Frankie Beverly and Maze concert, he didn’t like them and it was our tyrannical parental zeal that my wife and I wielded that held him captive.
And I snapped this picture of him sitting on the ground…
Pouting.
I cautioned him to pay attention and to take notes because, one day it would be him mesmerizing the crowd.
Telling him…
“You’re going to be up on that stage one day.”
I tried to impress upon him the necessity of remembering my words – declaring that I would keep this picture as proof of my speaking “it” into existence.
He grumbled in response and put his head into his hands, defeated.
Interestingly enough, there was a rain storm that came shortly after – one so intense that it caused the band and the people in the crowd to scatter.
Sidenote… I haven’t seen Frankie Beverly & Maze in concert since (damn the music Gods).
As I flash forward to the present day – it seems that my powers of manifestation rang true.
My son grew up to become a musician in his own right, graduating with a degree in Music Therapy – his instrument of choice?
The guitar.
I’ve been granted the honor to have watched my son charm crowds on the East Coast via the medium of music (in the pre-COVID-19 era) standing as a witness to hypnotized masses swaying in unison to his musical innotations – smiling broadly because I claimed it before it happened.
Performing with the Black Notes in Baltimore (2018). 
Baltimore (2018). 
My son serenading the crowd (2017). 
Moving the crowd seamlessly. 
Mic check with the Black Notes. 
AFRAM Festival 2019. 
AFRAM Festival 2019 
The view from the crowd at AFRAM 2019.
At the time of my declaration those words to my son came organically and I believed them with every fiber of my being – I wasn’t sure why at the time, but an epiphany in the form of a similar declaration that my paternal Grandmother made after my 8th grade graduation served as a potent reminder of the power of manifestation.
Allow me to explain…
Let’s time travel, shall we?
On a Summer afternoon in June 1989, my Grandmother and I walked outside the venue of my graduation discussing my plans for the next chapter of my life.
When my family walked out of the ceremony I remember my Grandma bubbling with an effervescent pride and she asked me pointedly…
“Baby, what do you want to be when you grow up?”
I replied quickly that I wanted to be lawyer – and she studied my face for a moment, as if she was puzzled
“A lawyer? You gotta be a good liar, baby.”
She must have sensed the bewildered look on my face – as she reached out to lock her arm in mine laughing as we started walking together towards the parking lot.
“I’m just joking, but you know baby, you should be a writer, their words live long after they are gone… You can live forever through words. That’s why your Daddy has got you reading those books.”
Before I had a chance to wrap my head around what she said.
My Father bellowed…
“Yeah boy, listen to your Grandma!”
And with one fluid motion he snapped the picture of me and my Grandma standing there.
When I was in Chicago last week – I walked the streets of my old haunts and before I knew it I found my way back to that same spot where my Grandma manifested a path for me that would serve to be redemptive.
From the lips of my Grandma to God’s ears…
The same power that she had was at my disposal too.
As an affirmation from my Grandma – I returned to the same spot where we stood 31 years ago. 
And I listened with my spirit – instead of my ears.
“Baby, you should be a writer…”
I ended up fulfilling that mandate – publishing my first book on the anniversary of my Father’s birth in 2019.
I dedicated my first book “From the Water’s Edge Volume I) to the memory of my Father, my Grandmother’s son, a book that he told me I would write prior to his passing. 
Signing a book for a reader.
I had to learn that coincidence doesn’t live here – because I come from a long line of Manifesters.
I see you Grandma and your Great Grandson does too.
Copyright © 2020 ShunPwrites. All Rights Reserved.
Shun P. Writes... dot com 
That is a beautiful and powerful story! Thank you for sharing, this was the perfect read before I drift off to sleep… and dream. I think you just sold me on your book too. I’ll have to check it out. 🙂
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Janet,
I thank you for your kind words, I am equal parts humbled and honored.
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Oh, I love this. Calling it into being because it already is. But I love even more the pic of your grandma and you. I can hear what she’s just said to you–and I love that you made it so. I didn’t know you’d published! I will have to check it out . . .
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Thanks Kay, I appreciate even more coming from one of my favorite writers on this shared platform!
That photograph happens to be one of my favorite images of her and I – and like love of purest source, I always hear her as clearly as the day she gave me that mandate.
Ironically enough, the publishing date of my book happened to fall on my Father’s birthday…
Synchronicities abound my friend!
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Aw. I’m blushing. Thank you. And I do believe that you hear her clearly still. It shows in your writing. And the kismet of your book being published on your father’s birthday – well that is just amazing too. Amid all the crap going on in the world today, some very bright spots.
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I most certainly do Kay, love is definitely the conduit to immortality.
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