Author’s Opening Words Let me tell you where this came from, because it did not fall out the sky wrapped in incense and poetry. It came from watching people talk themselves out of rooms they begged the Creator to put them in. It came from watching folks snatch defeat out the mouth of victory because they could not sit still long enough to let wisdom finish its sentence. It came from moments when I felt heat rise in my chest and had to decide whether I wanted to feel powerful

Author’s Opening Note Before you step into this reflection, let me tell you something plain and honest, with my shoes still dusty from life and my heart still a little tender. I did not write this from some quiet place where everything finally worked out. I wrote this with memories sitting beside me, pulling up a chair, tapping me on the shoulder, saying remember this too. I wrote this with tears that showed up uninvited and stayed longer than expected. And yes, I laughed at

Everybody Measuring Something That Don’t Matter How a Loud World Stay Counting the Wrong Things By Kāteb Shunnar Listen. Not the polite, church‑fan kind of listen where folks nod but already halfway gone. I mean lean in. Elbows on knees. Like somebody about to tell you something you didn’t ask for but probably need. That kind of listen. Because everywhere I look, somebody measuring something that don’t matter like it’s life or death. Folks counting likes like they calories. C

Get Down Off That Horse Before It Bucks You A Reflection on Humility, Ego, and Learning the Hard Way. By Kateb Shunnar Humility usually doesn’t knock politely. It kicks the door open when you’re halfway through congratulating yourself. One minute you’re feeling real accomplished, chest out, back straight, thinking you finally arrived. The next minute life says, “Arrived where?” and hands you a receipt you weren’t expecting. Most of us don’t start out arrogant. We get there sl

Bridges and Water: Lessons from the Edge of Fear. How Mama, the Lake, and the Creator Taught Me to Stay Afloat. By Kateb Shunnar I woke up with my heart acting like it had just run from something it couldn’t name. Eyes open, room quiet, but my spirit still jittery, like it didn’t get the memo that danger had clocked out. I lay there staring at the ceiling, letting the dream finish stretching its legs, because some dreams don’t like being rushed. You pull them too fast into d

Still Warm on Jonquil Street A Porch Side Reflection on Purpose, Loss, and the Kind of Wealth That Don’t Follow You Home. By Kateb Shunnar New Orleans will teach you things without ever pulling you aside. It don’t sit you down nice and neat. It lets life bump into you, shoulder first, and waits to see if you paying attention. This city hums with lessons. In the sidewalks. In the kitchens. In the way joy and grief walk arm in arm like they been knowing each other forever. Lif

Ignition When the Fire Knows Your Name Written by Kateb Shunnar Fire does not knock. It does not clear its throat. It does not wait for you to get comfortable or get dressed or get your thoughts together. Fire shows up when heat and fuel and oxygen decide to dance together, and once they lock arms, something is going to change. That is not science to me. That is life. That is the way the universe pulls us by the collar and says pay attention now. Growing up around New Orleans

When the Soul Runs a Fever A Reflection on Ego, Whispers, and Remembering Who Got Us Here. By Kateb Shunnar I still see it clear as a summer mirage on Claiborne. That old 1989 Chevrolet Vandura G-Series, G30 to be exact, sitting there like it had stories it wasn’t done telling yet. Sun beating down, cicadas hollering like they paying rent, and me eleven years old, skinny as a question mark standing next to my Paw Paw Wallace while he leaned over that engine like it owed him m

Don’t Let Your Mouth Borrow the Devil’s Megaphone. A Porch Reflection on Slander, Loose Tongues, and the Long Walk Back Home Written by Kateb Shunnar I was raised by people who believed language had consequences that didn’t always show up right away. Folks who understood that once something leaves your mouth, it don’t belong to you anymore. It belongs to whoever it lands on. So if this reflection feels like a warning, it is. If it feels like a confession, that too. And if it

The Weight of Quiet Things How Wisdom, Worn Floors, and a Careful Tongue Kept Me Standing By Kateb Shunnar I’ve come to believe silence has muscle. Not that awkward silence where nobody know what to say, but the intentional kind the kind that leans back in its chair and watches foolishness wear itself out. Quiet things carry weight. Heavy weight. The pause before you respond. The breath you take when your pride itching to speak before your spirit checks in. The choice to keep

Don’t Let the Water In Porch Talk from New Orleans on Wisdom, Ego, and Who Deserves a Seat Close to You Reflection written by Kateb Shunnar We used to live at 2800 Orleans Avenue, right on the corner of White Street, and if walls could talk, that porch would have a whole testimony. We sat out there damn near every day, watching cars roll down Orleans like everybody had somewhere urgent to be, engines revving, bass lines rattling windows, folks leaning on horns like that was g

I Asked for More and Got Shown Myself..... A New Orleans Reflection on Wanting, Waiting, and Watching Your Mouth Reflection written by Kateb Shunnar I learned early that New Orleans does not teach you lessons politely. It teaches you sideways. Through people. Through weather. Through moments where you swear you know better and then find yourself standing in the mess you ordered like it came with a receipt. At 2688 Jonquil, my grandmother Celestine’s house was not big, but it

When Blessings Knock Soft and You Too Busy Talkin’ Loud By Kateb Shunnar I spent a lot of years thinkin’ I had this life thing figured out, chest out, walkin’ like the Creator must’ve whispered the instructions in my ear personally. But man, listen confidence can be loud, but it don’t mean it’s right. I’d wake up with my mind already made, convinced I knew what was best for me, only to get humbled before lunchtime. Everything I claimed I didn’t need? Turns out I actually did.

🔥 When the Heart Kicks the Steering Wheel A Spiritual Reflection on Anger, Desire & Ego Written by Kateb Shunnar If I’m being completely transparent, I didn’t expect to find myself wandering through the Kingdom of Champa in the year 1300, wearing sandals that felt like someone had carved them out of disappointment and leftover coconut husks. But life is strange like that you try to teach about emotional intelligence in the modern world, and next thing you know, you’re sweati

THE MIRROR WHERE GOD HID MY NAME A Reflection on Self-Love, Stubborn Lessons, and the Sacred Echo of Granny Celestine By Kateb Shunnar I didn’t know at fifteen that I was walking around like a house with busted windows pretending the wind wasn’t blowing straight through me. Back in 1993, my heart felt like somebody left it out on St. Bernard Avenue during hurricane season beat up, soggy, and leaning to one side like it needed FEMA assistance. But you couldn’t tell me nothing

When the City Winks at Midnight A Spirited Reflection on the Messy, Beautiful Chaos of Living Reflection written by Kateb Shunnar New Orleans in nineteen fifty six was a city that refused to be anything less than itself. Hot as a pot of gumbo left on a stove too long, loud as a brass band that never bothered with quiet, messy in ways that could make your hair curl and your heart beat faster at the same time. She walked into the world with a grin, a wink, and maybe a little ci

When the Turtle City Remembered Its Own Heart Again. A Reflection on Stubborn Souls, Unexpected Healing, and the Strange Magic of Letting Go – Part 2 By Kateb Shunnar Turtle City in 1426 was alive in ways that felt deliberate, loud, and occasionally ridiculous. Hàoyú Mei Cheng and Fen Zhōu Liú had survived one Lantern Festival of verbal swordplay, and the city itself seemed to sigh in relief, as if thinking, finally, these two will stop turning minor grievances into epic dram

When the Turtle City Breathed Again A Reflection on Rebirth, Release, and the Soft Undoing of the Heart Part 1. By Kateb Shunnar Pingyao in 1425 had a way of moving that made time feel slow, deliberate, and just a touch smug, like it knew something you didn’t yet. Lanterns swayed in the streets, heavy with stories, and cobblestones carried the memory of everyone who had ever walked them gossips, lovers, merchants, the occasional thief, and probably one or two overzealous phi

STOP RUNNIN’, CHER : WHEN THE CREATOR CALLS YOUR NAME, DON’T MAKE HIM LEAVE A VOICEMAIL. A Reflection on Surrenderin’ to Your Gifts, Your Purpose, and the Goodness You Keep Dodgin’ By Kateb Shunnar I been running for so long that if the Olympics had a category for “Spiritual Duck-and-Dodge,” I woulda brought home gold for the whole 7th Ward. I ain’t lying I didn’t want to write, I didn’t want to speak, I didn’t want nobody askin’ me about purpose, calling, none of that. I w

By Kateb Shunnar Hikari Chō never asked to be a mountain climber. Honestly, she barely asked to be awake most days. Yet, life has a bold way of tossing responsibilities into someone’s lap, like an overeager shopkeeper insisting you take leftovers home. She lived in Edo around 1850, long before it transformed into the restless giant we now call Tokyo. Back then, things were simpler—at least that’s what people like to say. But if you had asked Hikari, she probably would have to