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Shattered Mirrors

By The Enraged Bard of HyBrasil

This is a story of love and glory.

I am the Enraged Bard of HyBrasil. I tell stories left behind by our ancestors.

I ask you here for permission to be authentic, for my language might insult some. But to honour the stories left unwritten, I refused to be shamed, tamed or silenced.

There is no evil without good. It is the duality of all things that exist.

The same goes for light and dark. Light needs to have been absent before, in order to exist at all.

The codependency of this duality puzzles the most cutting edge experiments in Quantum Physics.

As we evolve as a species, outmoded ideas of what we are, do not serve us.

There is a multitude of scientific evidence, changing our understanding of what we are composed of.

We all come from water.

Invisible life germs grown out of dust.

The ancient greek agreed on this and so does our current science.


Race is a classist social construct. We are 98% identical to monkeys in our DNA. Between all of us, there are smudges of nothingness, that alter the way we process Vitamin D for example; or the amount of melanin each of us produce. These tiny changes in DNA happened for example, when people were kidnapped from their warm continents and trafficked to colder places.

Racism was a word coined by a white dude, a racist called Pratt. He thought he was helping, like many of us with good intentions, but by classifying people in his nomenclature, his ingrained whiteness saw indigenous and black people as inferior. This word that describes a whole movement, was fed to the people.

Enraged is not a strong enough word to name my name.

When I say ‘white’ here I mean no offense to you, I refer to Colonialism. Because it is what it is: we have a historical debt to pay and you learned in a very biased way. Every single one of us – a different mental narrative. Something essential that our brain creates for our survival.

We are a multitude of different ethnic group descendants. One species, one race.

Everything else is each of our own prejudices, layered upon stories we learned – and the level of empathy taught to us as children.

I am somewhat white as in skin colour, whatever that can possibly mean – I have fake blond hair, as to culturally appropriate the Nords who colonised the whole fucking planet. To some, I am brown.

I learned that, scientifically, every single one of us registers colours differently.

From the little stool where I sit, the current scene of (what is now) Europe, looks delusional.

I am a watered down descendant of a cross between war survivors/fugitives. A byproduct of the Austro-Hungarian Empire division, a military dude mixed with a Celtic tribal descendant woman from the region of where now lies Venice. A place where whole ethnic groups were decimated by the French, Italian and Greek upending the territory around them. A love story that brought my ancestors to my birthplace:

Pindorama, a far away land… the name changes according to where the story is told, our colonists changed our name to Brasil.

It is also known in Celtic mythology as the promised land of eternal youth.

A magical place where people still smile despite struggle. Their laughter makes them young. Resilient as fuck like cockroaches, my people have survived the unimaginable for centuries. 

In the place where I am from, we become aware of our mortality from a young age. We know death and injustice intimately, walking a fine line between deprivation and strive, where only the mentally strong survive.

We are considered inferior to the nations that stole our dignity. But in our evolution, we have learned with black and indigenous slaves how to perform powerful magic.

We fiddle with the unknown, the occult to the naked eye.

And call upon our ancestors for the strength necessary in the face of psychological warfare.

Where am I from, each leaf holds a clue to the riddles of the Universe.

Each crystal, a code. Each tree is a living alphabet of stories woven in the past. Bounded by ancient wisdom.

The reality of the ground we walk upon turned into the opposite of beautiful, in the last few centuries. Ancestral fertile grounds for beings playing semi-Gods.

I am sheltered and educated therefore, to millions around the planet, I am privileged. And so, because the oppressed people of this planet owe us no explanation. And the enslaved, beaten, raped, are under no obligation to educate us on anything… I take upon myself to do some of the dissecting.

But before we continue, I want you to arm yourself with two superpowers which we are urged to call upon: Humility and Empathy. Humility because we weren’t told the full story, our ideas may be incomplete. Empathy because, when these two things exist at any given moment, there is an instance of badly needed Equality.

We got mass educated. So let’s forgive ourselves and each other.

My wish is that, by the end of this story, you will no longer feel impotent in the face of unjust deprivation.

In this frenzied quest to piece back together fragments of stories that were erased, engulfed by my own sense of control, I forget that Higher justice comes with unerring accuracy.

The intricate work of Evolution beyond our comprehension.

Rationalism can only come from 7% part of the brain mass, responsible for our conscious functions, the frontal cortex.

Our brains predict ourselves into existence, at all times. A blindsided partial picture of a whole. A collection of symbols for the multitudes of atoms each of us are. Inside each of us, there are more bacteria than stars in the Milky Way! Infinite combinations of information, spread across hundreds of thousand of galaxies, just like ours. Knowledge we may very well never be able to grasp.

Seeing the world as it is, goes against Evolution. Because it freezes you. We collectively create this magical reality, where Evil is not so bad. Until it happens to you, or someone you love. It’s impossible to recognise a dreamy future without knowing a nightmare. We are urged to look at the dirtiest with critical analytical eyes. And all your senses, even the ones you cannot comprehend yet.


Nature communicates with us in various strange ways.


I invite you to board on this journey of intuitive hunches with me, a person from the human species, an Empath, with a common goal: to discover truth by dissecting History and piecing it back together.

So buckle the fxxck up! Get comfy from the waist down, because this is going to hurt a little. Decolonising one’s identity built upon layers of lies is hard to swallow without a bit of lubricant, a joke and a slap.

I want you to, for a minute, remember the feeling of discovering a new idea, the awe and wonder you once had for the magic of the Universe, when a child.

When the impossible became possible, on a daily basis – through the magic inherent of the mysteries you were too young to rationalise.


Allow me to tell you the story of Yaa Asantewaa:


She was the queen mother of Ejisu in the Ashanti Empire, now part of modern-day Ghana.

Born 17/11/1840 – Dead 17/11/1921 – full circle born and dead on the same day and month.

With the determination and sting of a Scorpio, I am not surprised.

In 1900, she led the War of the Golden Stool, also known as the Yaa Asantewaa war, against British colonialism. The English demanded not only to sit on the Golden Stool, the sacred symbol of her people, but also to own it and take it away. They had kidnapped their ruler and the humans of Ashanti were rightfully enraged.


Yet, the men, leaders gathered at this particular secret meeting, were disheartened. I would not blame them, the attack was disproportionate, like every case of colonization. Asantewaa who was the only woman present, stood and addressed the members of the council with these (not famous enough) words:


“I have seen that some of you fear to go forward to fight for our King. If it were in the brave days of Osei Tutu, Okomfo Anokye, and Opoku Ware, leaders would not sit down to see their King be taken away, without firing a shot. No white man could have dared to speak to a leader of the Ashanti, in the way the Governor spoke to you this morning. Is it true that the bravery of the Ashanti is no more? I cannot believe it. It cannot be! I must say this, if you, the men of Ashanti will not go forward, then we will. We the women will. I shall call upon my fellow women. We will fight the white men. We will fight till the last of us falls in the battlefields.”


Asantewaa was chosen by regional kings to be the war-leader of the Asante fighting force. This is the first and only example, for a woman to be given that role, in Asante history. The Ashanti-British “War of the Golden Stool” was led by Queen Mother Nana Yaa Asantewaa with an army of 5,000 women and some men.

She won. The British never touched the stool but they went dead quiet for ages. Infiltrated their doubled-brainwashed agents to pose as defeated friends of the Asante people. Slowly but surely, they slithered back in and captured Yaa’s daughter.

The end of the story I cannot tell for sure. History is cyclical and the end of the story, my dear friend, is the Present.

Ghana was destroyed by aluminium mining, like many countries in Africa, colonised by English and French nations, which still continue to rule that huge continent. Switzerland for example, being the bank, dealing the bloodied money provenient from slavery to this day.

Yaa loses every time an british student or any student is strategically spared from learning her brave story. Such an incredible story told by no educational institutions.

If anything, it explains the entitlement the UK presents in feeding the war in Yemen, and also the mentality behind the ones who support Brexit.

Let’s get this straight: nobody is killing in the name of any god.

It is quite simple: Cowardly attacks by the ones who just take, against the ones who fight back with their last drop of blood with outnumbered and outweaponed bravery.

The oppression is to take away dignity and territory. Be it in the form of the most shining black oil hotspot, or in the form of a sacred shitter. 

Over centuries, the knowledge in agriculture and ancient spiritual traditions of the oldest people on Earth have been strategically dampened down by oppression.

A ground for testing of vaccines and drugs. A well known ground for social and medical experiments, where people are ‘human material’.

War scientists force feeding technology designed to crash countries in ‘development’.


‘Under’ forever dirty ‘construction’.

Stories broadcasted by technology created by self-assumed fascists. Like the radio that evolved into a multitude of one way media outlets that feed us an image of despair. Of African babies dying of hunger that freezes our every cell from action.


There is a special kind of human brain brilliance in those places, evolved upon centuries of strive.


Deprived of their own culture and history. Of nutrition, seeds, clean water, communication systems.

Colonizers feel the threat of a possibility in economic development in developing nations – all tightly designed to create the present paradox. Where the good courageous hearts on this planet feel powerless, anxious, afraid. Defeated.


We have been tamed to a point of losing faith in our kind. We are all colonised.


We are well due our time to commit ourselves to a process of TRUTH and Reconciliation, where we face the effects of historical burdens head on. The reasons can be selfish, I don’t even care at this point: our present curfew is thoroughly affected by this whole thing.


I have a burning belief in what is possible for diverse and courageous people to create together.

Goodness ripples at the same fast rate of destruction.

I invite you to re-learn the past and take action every day to free yourself.

With fierce compassion in your heart and rebellious fire in your belly.

Contact: jscodeler@gmail.com
Instagram: @thehealingmachine

Contact: jscodeler@gmail.com
Instagram: @thehealingmachine

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