My mother used to tell a story about me — a thin baby girl who, by her fourth summer, had discovered the joy of food and arrived at fall a different child. She told it with the tenderness only mothers carry. Part laughter, all love.
She also kept a garden. And she taught me that tending — patient, daily, faithful — is how something becomes what it was always meant to be.
I didn't know then she was teaching me the philosophy I'd one day build my life around.
Decades later, I walked into a gym called Fight Club Philly. Small space. Sacred ground. I didn't know I was walking through a gate.
My coach, Coach Mike Sulit, watched me move. Watched me plant my feet and give everything to a 300-pound bag that doesn't lie and can't be charmed. And somewhere in those early sessions — amid the sweat and the footwork and Jill Scott's voice in the air — he started calling me something.
Warrior.
Not as a compliment. The way you say someone's name when you've finally remembered it.
Today — May 3rd — would have been my mother's 87th bEARTHday. It is also Soka Gakkai Day. It is also the launch of this series.
The universe doesn't whisper. Sometimes it speaks in five languages at once.
Welcome to the garden. The series has begun. 🌿✊🏽
— Janus Bryant aka Matop Modupe Nyungu
Founder, Warrior in the Garden, LLC
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