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

🌙 When the Bayou Whispers Back🌙 ✨ A Soul-Shaking Reflection on Shifa, Dis-Ease, and the Creator’s Unpredictable Mercy By Kateb Shunnar You know, sometimes I think the Creator be looking at us like, “Lord have mercy, these children done lost they everlasting minds again,” because we walk around like we’re self-healing superheroes while we’re actually just patched-up humans trying to outsmart our own dis-ease. And every time I say “dis-ease,” I mean exactly that discomfort, d

✨ LOOKING BEYOND OUR FAULTS ✨ Cher Dont Trip Over Dollars Tryna Pick Up Dimes The Creator Aint Droppin Blessings for Decoration By Kateb Shunnar Down by the Mississippi early in the morning, when the fog hangs low like it had a long night and aint fully awake yet, thats when good news likes to sneak in. It moves quiet, tiptoeing like somebody trying not to wake a cranky toddler. And honestly, that is probably wise, because most of us wake up already irritated by life, traff

✨Laissez le bon temps rouler … Even When the Bon Temps Ain’t Rollin’ ✨ Written by Kateb Shunnar Lemme tell you something, baby, life ain’t always Mardi Gras parades and zydeco bands playing under the live oaks. Sometimes life is just a busted trumpet on Bourbon Street, blowing notes nobody asked for, and you gotta shake your head, sip your chicory coffee, and laugh anyway because crying won’t fix the horn and neither will complaining. I been through my share of Katrina level

Frozen Cups and Grace: A New Orleans Reflection on Gratitude How a Garage Freezer, Porch Talk, and Three Wise Souls Taught Me the Sweetness of Thankfulness By Kateb Shunnar Gratitude—let me tell you, it ain’t something you stock up in a closet and dust off on Thanksgiving, thinking you done your part. No, gratitude is more like a drink you sip on the porch when the air’s thick and sticky and you’re sweating buckets, but you realize you feel alive anyway. Growing up at 2688 Jo

A Front Porch Reflection on Guilt, Grace, and Gettin’ Free By Kateb Shunnar Now let me tell you somethin’, friend if guilt had a smell, it’d probably be that thick burnt roux that sat on the stove too long when you turned your head to answer the phone. You know the kind looks good at first, then poof, gone wrong in a blink. That’s what guilt do to you. It sneaks in quiet, sets up camp in your chest, and burns everything that used to taste like peace. And the wild part? Most

I Fry My Fish in Cornmeal A 7th Ward Story About Fellowship, Fish Grease, and the Flavor of Community By Kateb Shunnar Now, let me start by tellin’ y’all right off the bat this story is fictional but factual, in the way only a New Orleans fish fry can make sense of truth. You see, there’s a certain kind of magic that happens when you fry a catfish in cornmeal on a Friday evening, grease poppin’ and cracklin’ like the brass band down the street, and the smell waltzin’ through

He Wore Mismatched Socks A Reflection on the Beauty of Being Unmatched Written by Kateb Shunnar Man, lemme tell you how this morning started. It was around 6:45 a.m. in New Orleans, that crisp autumn kinda morning that sneaks up on you, gentle but stubborn like it’s sayin’, “Time to get up, sugar, whether you ready or not.” And me? I was wiped. Flat-out, dog-tired, eyes burnin’ like two candles somebody forgot to blow out. I’d been up all night, swearin’ under my breath, swe

Yip yip Yip yip yeh yeh Uh-huh Uh-huh I love my gift from the Creator it’s my passion, it’s my passport to higher realms. Written by Kateb Shunnar Now, this story I’m about to tell is fictional, but ever so factual is set in New Orleans, where the air itself hums a rhythm you can’t ignore. Walk down Claiborne or Basin, and even if your mind’s heavy with worry, your foot starts tapping, your soul starts listening. Music leaks from the cracks in the sidewalks, shadows hum betw