But! Yet I Cried.

You ain’t nothing but a hound dog

Crying all the time

You ain’t never caught a rabbit and

You ain’t no friend of mine.

Oh The Pain Of Rejection!

What a tune to which to march--no drums, no guitar, no rhythm section, but what a beat down.  How many young folk or people in general are told and have been told repeatedly, you are worthless and won’t amount to dung?

‘Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me’.

A message fired from a poison pen, “you don’t measure up to my expectations, nor are you pleasing to me”. Words spoken from the lips of a should-be nurturer turned profaner. Reducing a mind to a state of worthlessness, an empty placeholder, a state of nothingness, zero, a lonely place. What a state in which to be.  This state is unique--it’s a place where only someone you care about can sentence you. Go to your room, you little stupid…!

‘Sticks and stone may break my bones but words can never hurt me’. But! Yet I cried.

Looking back, I can remember smashing a finger or stumping a toe; even having a nail stuck in my foot. Someone will read this article and perhaps nod in agreement. I no longer feel the pain of those experiences but I remember words that were spoken as if it was yesterday--words that were painful.

‘Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me’

But! Still I cried----tears flowing down a pain stricken face into a pillow that provides no comfort. A placeholder—holding up a head buried deep in the depths of despair, looking for a way out of an Incarcerated Mind. A mind muddled, stuck like an elevator between floors. So much noise! But no movement. Caught in the vice grips of life’s hand-me-downs. Like a runner side-lined by a broken leg unable to contribute, reduced to a placeholder.

{The tongue, such a small thing, but boasts great power.}

A young man shared with me one of his childhood experiences. When he was eight several of his friends were playing hide and seek. One of the kids went into his house to hide.  After counting to ten Josh yelled, “ready or not here I come”.  As Josh ran around his friend’s trailer, the door flew open nearly taking the top of Josh’s head off.  Josh’s mother rushed him to the emergency room as the blood streamed down his face. A frightened and concerned mother was asked, “Mommy am I going to die”?  No! Son you’re going to be all right.  Josh said, “I believed her”.  The same way that boy or girl believed his/her parent(s) when told ‘you won’t amount to anything.’ The power of life and death is in the tongue.

It matter’s how and what we say to our children and to our loved ones. The tongue is to the Spirit as what the placenta is to the fetus. The placenta is the feeder of life growing inside the mother. Words are the feeder of the Spirit in human beings.  One nourishes the inner and the other the outer. Cereals take care of the body, but words take care of the spirit. Spirit—that non-physical part of a person, which is the seat of emotions and character. 

Human Being—sounds like two parts: the inner and the outer. The Being part of man, that is the spirit, is what gives life and determines the quality of life one will have. It is the essential part of man. Simply put, no spirit, no life.  Therefore man does not live by bread alone.

Man’s life is shaped by what’s fed into his spirit--Words. Have you checked your tongue today?

Sticks And Stones May Break My Bones, But Words Will Never Hurt Me. But! Yet I cried.

‘You are what you think’.

It’s time to free

The Incarcerated Mind.

Let Freedom Ring!

My country, tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing;

Land where my fathers died,

Land of the pilgrims’ pride

From every mountainside let freedom ring!

Wishful thinking perhaps, upon the face of a distant shore of hopelessness or hopefulness in the possibilities that lie out there. The truth is that the land of the free incarcerates more of its most precious and vital resources than any other industrialized nation on earth. Yet! The half has not been told.

There is a greater portion of our nation that moves about daily carrying on business as usual. They are not being watched by prison guards on the side of the road. Nor have they been fitted with wrist bracelets or ankle monitors to control their movements. The bars of containment are invisible to the human eye and more devastating than the clanging steel doors that are programmed to open and close. The impact of an incarcerated mind is staggering while the cost to society is immeasurable.

The Incarcerated Mind. What does it mean or imply? Defining incarcerated and outlining the functions of the mind can best answer this question. Incarcerated: imprisoned, confined, jailed, shut up or enclosed.

To be incarcerated is to be locked up, controlled by someone or something other than self. The ability to move about is severely restricted by space, scope and time. Normally one thinks of prison as a place for a person convicted by the courts for a crime. The mind can be imprisoned by what the tongue says and the ears hear.

Some of the functions of the mind: think/thought; feel/emotion; perceive; remember/memory; reason; judge/opinion; understand/intellect; decide/will.

An Incarcerated mind is at a disadvantage to navigate any of these functions. The fall out from the state of an incarcerated mind is seen in our relationships, in our streets and in our homes. One more thing—racism in our church is the outcome of an incarcerated mind. Jesus said, “except a man be born again”, (freed from an Incarcerated Mind) “he cannot see the kingdom of God”.  Where is your Mind?

The Beginning

My hope, my prayer and belief is that some will benefit from this site. Let me introduce myself. I am Eugene Henry Sr. and I have a Masters Degree in Rehabilitation Counseling with a speciality in substance abuse from Virginia Commonwealth University. My under grad years were spent at Virginia State College, where I dropped out in 1973.  The next ten years were the bleakest of my existence; but somehow there was that small tiny thought that periodically popped up that said there is more than this for you. Do you believe in miracles? More to follow.

In 1990 I enrolled in Northern Virginia Community College (NVCC), where I completed the requirements for my Associates in Substance Abuse Counseling (Hooray!).  This was my first completion of anything since high school. While at  NVCC, I began working with substance abusers--truly the mirror wasn't broke. Upon finishing NVCC, I began seeking directions which led me back home--never say never. I met my future boss while visiting home one weekend and shortly after I became the Prevention and Intervention Coordinator for the Hopewell Housing Authority. Sometimes honey moons just aren't long enough. My immediate supervisor moved on and then there were two. The two of us found ourselves vying for the position that had been vacated. My counter part had her four year degree, leaving an easy decision for our director. Listen in on my interview: "Your counterpart had guts, she toughed it out and got her sheepskin". 

A slap on the snoozer is not always a bad thing. Two months later, I re-enrolled into Virginia State University which was in 1994. In July 1995, I marched across the stage to receive my Bachelors in Individualized Studies with a concentration in social work.  I have a lot to fill in, so stay with me as we journey the road of Freeing the Incarcerated  Mind.

Now under construction

Coming soon!  The incarcerated mind and how to free it.