The Blackness of Possibility
I found myself laying in a field last spring with my senses completely overwhelmed. The soil was peppery. The birds just wanted to be heard — they wanted their orchestra of seemingly practiced and yet improvised sound to be enjoyed. The warmth from the glow of the sun was placed perfectly alongside a breeze from the tall trees that drenched me in the perfect temperature. As I took in a deep breath and played with a piece of wheatgrass in my fingers, one of the caretakers of the land shared a story that went a little like this:
I’ve been relentlessly focusing on making sure it is instilled in my son that the color Black is beautiful and triumphant. Through the land, I have taught him this lesson over and over again. I’ve most recently done this as he learns about our seasons of planting. Seeds root, grow, and begin to bloom in darkness — in Blackness. Every time we plant a seed together, we get excited for what beauty will rise and flourish. In Blackness, there is possibility. Our Blackness is possibility.
Her story rattled me to my core. So often in the books I read as a child, going into the darkness represented something scary, something often evil or treacherous. And too often, in the various forms of media and affirmations around me as a young biracial Black girl, the words and imagery of Blackness rarely sat alongside hope and possibility except for in my family’s homes.
As I look back on my legacy journey, cultivating and nourishing possibility has not always felt like a birthright. It has not always felt like an essential tool for not only my survival, but for my legacy. Instead, it has felt like something I did not have time for and was an act of privilege. “I wish I had time to just decompress, take stock, and think about other solutions to design.” “The problems of today are so acute. Imagining feels like a luxury.” “I associate legacy planning with generational wealth. I don’t have that so this isn’t for me.” Sound familiar?
But on that day last year, I was awakened by the seemingly obvious, but visionary point of the caretaker’s story: we know that when we plants seed into darkness - into Blackness - beauty is cultivated. Legacy is cultivated.
Entire generations and ecosystems live and flourish in Blackness: look beneath the soil and you find the deep roots of trees hundreds of years old. You find the creation of new life in the burrows of animals. You begin to understand the deep connections and networks of mycelia - fungi essential to the vitality of the soil.
Look beneath the soil and you remember that our ancestors weaved seeds into their hair as they were stolen from their homeland. The weaving of the seeds in their hair was an act of hope — of discerning the possibility that one day the seeds from their homeland would continue to take root and bloom for their children’s children. That they would taste the food and history of their homeland. That they would know the richness - the Blackness - of their roots.
Look beneath the soil and today you see quite visibly what happens when we invest in the possibility of Black genius. Just like the seed in the soil, generations and ecosystems live and flourish when the possibility of Back genius is nourished: from the invention of life-saving vaccines to the creation of Rock and Roll to the protection of the values of democracy. Investments in the Blackness of possibility is an investment in the legacies of all of us.
Our Blackness roots, grows, and blooms innovations, progress, and joy. So what will it take to step into the fullness of our possibility of our Blackness?
Legacy Visioning Forecast
For the next seven generations forward, the forecast calls for seasonal acts of growth and rest. The long-term forecast for stepping into the fullness of legacy visioning and possibility will call for us to learn from how seeds are cultivated and sustained.
Rich, well-nourished soil, water and patience are required for seeds to take root, grow and blossom. Overworking the soil will result in lost growth and harvests. The financial costs of investing in band-aid solutions like fertilizers to keep the soil working year-round will come at a significant cost — eventually the seeds will no longer take root.
Seasonal rest periods for the soil will create richer harvests. Accessing our practices, habits, and mindsets rooted in stillness will be essential for manifesting, designing, building and sustaining legacy visions.
Preparing for the Forecast: Reflection Questions
How am I living a life that honors all of my gifts?
What practices and habits will I lean on to restore at the beginning and end of days?
When and how will I honor the multiple seasons of rest required of my legacy?
Star-Gazing Guide
Step outside right before the sunset. Grab a comfortable seat. Watch.
Watch the sunset begin to paint the sky.
Watch the hues change into Blackness.
Watch the stars begin to emerge.
Breathe deeply.
Remember: the stars were here before us, and they will be here after us.
“The very act of trying to look ahead to discern possibilities is an act of hope.” - Octavia E. Butler
What possibilities have they seen? What legacies are interconnected in the constellations?
Lean back. Close your eyes.
Listen to the possibility of the stars speckled throughout the Blackness of the sky.
Reflect: When a star tells your legacy story to the next generation, what sign of possibility it it reveal? Ask and answer this question 100 times.
Repeat above quarterly.
Planting Tips
Sowing legacy seeds is about moving with clarity and intention.
Plant seeds with intention: Begin the morning with yourself, planting (choosing) a word, phrase, feeling or even color to guide and anchor your day. We cannot control what happens as we leave solitude, but we can choose how we guide our hearts and minds as we walk through the day.
Nourish, nourish, nourish: Spend time hydrating the seed — from literal personal water intake to taking a walk alongside water to reflect upon how the seeds of your legacy are taking root. Identify one to three ways you will curate space and time to nourish your legacy seeds at the start of a planting period.
Pruning is essential: Remember to trim back the leaves as your legacy grows. Trim the habits, mindsets, people, and environments that no longer serve how your legacy is unfolding.
Prepare for shifting weather patterns: We often cover plants when the frost is coming. Consider how you will protect your legacy as weather patterns shift. Remember: you cannot find an anchor in a hurricane. Identify, learn from, and iterate on your anchors frequently.
Celebrate growth — no matter how it manifests: As some plants grow, we reinforce the stems and branches with stakes to help them become sturdy and strong. We also reinforce plants with support when they are leaning. Put simply: we celebrate growth - growth defined as expanding or blossoming; seeking and accepting support; and experiencing failure. Not every seed will result in a flower. Celebrate how your seed roots and grows — or not. Be in inquiry with the the Blackness of possibility.
As last month came to a close, I returned to a friend’s garden where I planted a sunflower seed last year alongside a circle of friends. At the time, we said a prayer — an intention, an affirmation, a hope — for our individual and collective legacies. My friend and her daughter cared for the seeds in the days and weeks that would follow — with water and laughter as they learned from, cared for, and played on their land together.
When we gathered last month, my friend shared that two to three seeds blossomed into sunflowers. I watched our faces as she shared the outcome of last spring’s planting of the seeds. Here’s the thing: we all smiled with deep gratitude and inquiry.
Deep gratitude as we proceeded to celebrate how the Blackness of our legacies took root and blossomed in the year since we gathered. Deep gratitude for naming and walking in alignment with the intentions we planted.
Deep inquiry as we wondered what was still happening beneath the soil, deeper into the Blackness of our possibilities. Deep inquiry as we internalized and embodied knowing one simple truth about the seeds that blossomed: that as they grew and shined in the sun, they eventually began to see a close to a chapter. But it wasn’t an ending: for every time a sunflower begins to transition, hundreds of seeds are known to fall from its core into the Blackness of possibility.
And so it begins: another lifecycle — another chapter — of legacy unfolding. All because of the Blackness of possibility.
In still of possibility,
Gabrielle
