Reclaiming Our Power Before We Brace Ourselves

I am a consciousness architect.
Not of buildings, but of bridges—bridges between ways of thinking, ways of feeling, ways of remembering what we already know.
And I am also the bridge.
One who walks in paradox and contradictions, not addictions, living between dimensions, and holds space for transformation in the now.

This is a prayer.
A prayer disguised as reflection.
A fire disguised as forgiveness.
And a bridge made from a plant we’ve misunderstood for too long.

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The Firstborn We Give to God

Let’s begin here: every energy we encounter mirrors something within.
When we give our firstborn to God, it’s not just a physical act—it’s an energetic surrender.
It’s the surrender of judgment, shame, illusion, ego, pride.
And so today, I give this story up in honor of that surrender.
Forgive me, marijuana—for the ways I misjudged you before I understood myself.

You weren’t a mistake.
You were an initiation.

An initiation in reclaiming my last name, one that’s not on the Governmental books, but lives within me. Wright = The Will Power to be Right, is the only force that can push a carpenter. Doubt the possibility of being right and you doubt your capability of building right. Doubt your possibility of being wrong, and you create a contradiction to life.

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We Don’t Need Permission to Be Who We Are

I’ve always known that I do things my own way.
Not out of rebellion—but out of remembrance.
We don’t need to go to school to remember who we are.
Sometimes we go to school just to realize we never needed it in the first place.
We are taught we need tools—but in truth, we are the tools.
We are the resource we’ve been waiting for.

My way of moving through life might not look like the textbook route.
I don’t need someone’s degree to validate my bridge-building.
I live in direct communication with Source.
And when I say I build bridges, I mean it.
Between people.
Between polarities.
Between trauma and transcendence.

And one of my bridges—the one that keeps my spirit grounded when my mind races beyond time—is marijuana.

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A Guardian of the Herb

Some smoke to pass time.
Some smoke to laugh.
Some smoke to elevate their frequency.
Some just because they love the ritual.
And some—like me—because it’s a bridge to home.

I’ve sat with bankers and dealers, artists and wanderers, all brought together by a shared appreciation for one plant.
That kind of communion is sacred.
It transcends class, culture, and code.
It’s not about the stereotype—it’s about the soul.
We don’t need to fix each other.
We need to see each other.
As is.

I am a guardian of this herb.
And I will protect it like my life depends on it.
Because in many ways, all of our lives do.

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This Plant Is Not the Enemy

Let’s talk science, too, because Source is practical.
Hemp regenerates soil.
It can help restore barren lands and bring life back to places colonized by overproduction, fertilisation dumps and disconnection.
Medicinally, it soothes ADHD minds, calms Parkinson’s symptoms, helps reset anxiety patterns and many more. All mixing with the different components of one’s body.

It’s like the alchemy of different elemental coming together:

Water + Fire = Steam
Fire + Water = Ashes
Ashes + Water = Phoenix

A fire’s core stands still, but its expression exudes uncontrollably and unpredictably, it must stay fluidly untouched for it not to burn down, the only unstoppable force without killing it completely or it becoming deadly(matter).

Tornado + Mirror = Clarity
Tornado + Love = Grounding
Tornado + Surrender = Silence

On the other hand water’s expression could go from the calmest cup on the counter, to the highest waves in Australia, if not the tornadoes in Japan. And only its reflection and release can calm its core from suppressing earth.

This plant is a portal.
It should never have been demonized.
If anything, it’s been one of our greatest allies, misunderstood in a world releasing addiction to control.
Forgive me, marijuana—for not speaking your truth sooner.

The stillness it never believed it could find.
A truth that doesn’t fight it, just sees it.
Love without resistance.
But I see you now.
And I choose you.
Not to escape—but to anchor.

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Sacred Choices Are Still Choices

Let me be clear: I do not drink alcohol.
Not because it’s evil, but because my body says no.
It hurts me.
Marijuana, on the other hand, is the breath between my thoughts.
It slows me down enough to feel.
To channel.
To write this.

It is the tool that works for me—just like a mask for a diver, or a car for a driver. And meditation for others. Everything is a Vessel and as such everything is a tool to our consciousness, myself included, but we must choose to see the contribution in community as perspective, over the dictatorship of old narratives passed down fro eons. Re-purpose our thoughts and sometimes reclaim others.

My own homeostasis.
And just because someone else’s bridge looks different doesn’t mean mine isn’t real, valid, or considerate. I learned that lesson a little time ago and today, I was reminded that it counts for my own essence too. My originality is too precious to be diluted, just like everyone else.

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The Bridge Is Not the Burden

In this world, delay can be sacred.
I’ve let go of things—not because I had to, but because they didn’t resonate anymore.
But that discernment is mine.
And my word for myself is the law of my land.
Others may offer advice, but only I know the terrain of my soul.

We are not here to abandon what works just because someone else doesn’t understand it.
We are here to own what works, honor it, and use it wisely.
Everything is energy.
Everything is a tool.
And when used with intention, everything can be holy.

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Living Fully, Loving Freely

We’re not here forever.
We last only as long as our purpose breathes through us.
And in that short span, we get to choose how we walk:
With pride.
With reverence.
With radical truth.

I am Susan Ndinga Wright.
I am a smoker by choice and with pride.
And I build bridges for the mind, the heart, and the soul.

For me to lead, I must have people willing to release control around me for me to breath, or I will continue practicing re-purposing my relationships, as I’ve always done. We all grow out of sync where the sync isn’t sync-ing.

4Honeth is one of them—a creative temple, a community, a closed-loop economy, a living ecosystem.
It breathes through the hands of those who remember:
Mother Earth gave us what we need.
Let us not look down on her gifts.

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Final Breath, First Flame

Forgive me, marijuana.
For not defending you when I should have.
For projecting old shame onto a plant that only ever wanted to help me come home.
We will do great things together.
And those who dishonor you dishonor a part of me.

This isn’t about idolization.
This is about integration.
Knowing what works for you, and walking in that knowing—unapologetically.

I used to run from my own blessings.
Not anymore.

My first expression was not a mistake.
It was a prayer disguised as fire—
A fire that landed in the void of an emperor who was forgetting himself.

But I remember now.
And I forgive myself, too.