Buddie Brooks Healing

11/19/2025

Healing Hurts.

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11/03/2025

"A man is built from pain and heartbreak, from nights where sleep will not come and mornings that feel like a sentence. He is shaped by the weight he carries in silence, by the quiet rooms where his chest burns and his voice is a locked door. He keeps breathing when every memory hurts, when every reminder stings, when everything gentle feels far away. He does not pretend he is untouched. He bleeds in private and still shows up in public. He learns that survival is not pretty, that strength is not loud, that dignity can look like taking one more steady breath when the world feels cold and unkind.

There is a moment when he stops lying to himself about what was lost. He says the names of the promises that broke. He lets the truth sit in his throat until it stops feeling like fire. He admits he was not enough for someone who could not see him, and he admits they were not enough for the life he needed. He does not turn his hurt into hatred. He allows the ache to be honest. He cries and does not apologize for the flood. He understands that sorrow is not weakness; it is proof that he dared to love with an unguarded heart.

He begins the rebuild with hands that still shake. He does not wait to feel brave before he starts. He cleans the room that held his lowest hour. He washes the dishes that piled up when hope felt small. He answers the messages he avoided, even when shame whispers that silence is safer. He drinks water, eats, walks, rests. He teaches his body that care is not a reward; it is a right. He lets small, ordinary acts become a quiet rescue, tiny anchors that keep him from drifting back into the dark he barely escaped.

He speaks to himself like he would to a brother who is hurting. He says, You did not deserve what broke you. He says, You get to begin again. He says, You are allowed to be slow, and you are allowed to want more. He forgives the man he was for staying too long where love demanded pieces of his soul as payment. He forgives the man he was for mistaking chaos for passion and absence for mystery. He lays down the heavy armor he wore to look unbreakable, and he chooses something braver: to be honest, to be soft, to be real.

He learns the difference between being chosen and being used. He stops offering discounts on his self-respect to buy companionship. He stops treating his heart like a bargaining chip. He says no when no is needed, and he protects that no like a sacred boundary. He discovers that true kindness includes himself. He learns that he cannot save someone by shrinking, that he cannot keep someone by disappearing, that he cannot heal someone by bleeding out. He promises himself: I will not abandon me again.

He studies the shape of his grief until he can touch it without flinching. He lets it teach him patience, presence, and the art of staying with what hurts until it loosens. He holds sorrow in one hand and a stubborn little spark in the other. He does not wait for perfect weather to start living. He walks into the day as he is, carrying both the ache and the ember. He learns that hope is not a sudden brightness; it is the steady pulse that refuses to quit, the soft insistence that there is still something worth tending.

He begins to notice gentle people: the friend who keeps showing up, the neighbor who smiles like an old song, the elder who nods with quiet understanding. Their kindness lands like warm light on cold skin. He receives without arguing. He lets help be holy. He lets love be simple. He becomes careful with his words, generous with his listening, and faithful with his promises. He decides that real power is not control; it is care that does not need to be seen to be real.

He also meets parts of himself he used to outrun: the boy who wanted safety more than applause, the teenager who mistook attention for affection, the young man who wore confidence like a mask with shaking strings. He holds them close and says, You are coming with me this time. No more leaving you in rooms that don’t love you. He becomes the steady presence he was always searching for. He chooses consistency over intensity, honesty over theatrics, devotion over performance.

He does not confuse peace with numbness. He lets joy arrive without interrogation. He laughs even when tears are not far behind. He rests without proving he earned it. He lets his heart open, but not to anyone who treats it casually. He learns to love without losing his edges, to give without emptying, to stay without erasing himself. He creates a life that fits his soul: slow mornings, honest work, kind people, and a self he can look in the mirror and respect.

A man is built from pain and heartbreak, but he is defined by the way he returns to himself after the breaking. He chooses to rebuild not as the person who was shattered, but as the person who learned. He stitches his life back together with patience, faithfulness, and the quiet courage to keep choosing what is good for him. And when he stands again—steady, soft, unafraid to feel—he understands the miracle he carried all along: he was never only broken; he was being remade into someone he could trust with his own heart."

-Steve De'lano Garcia

10/26/2025

What if?

10/25/2025

We are taught to forgive others. Perhaps it is time to learn to forgive yourself.

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10/11/2025

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09/25/2025

There is one figure that haunts every culture, one luminous shadow that stretches across continents and centuries: the Dragon. It appears in different masks—serpent, naga, rainbow being, feathered serpent, coiled wyrm—but beneath the names, it is the same presence.

The ancients did not see the world as dead matter. They felt the earth breathe. Mountains were the ridges of great serpents, rivers were their arteries, and the sky flashed with their fire. In China, these currents became the longmai—dragon veins—lines of power through the landscape that could bless or destroy a dynasty. In Europe, the old ones traced similar lines, now called leys, upon which they raised stones, temples, and cathedrals. To follow these lines was to walk the Dragon’s body.

Across India and Tibet, the nagas coiled at sacred lakes and rivers, guardians of hidden treasures of spirit and stone. They were not merely mythic snakes but keepers of thresholds—initiators who demanded reverence before one could cross into deeper wisdom. The Aboriginal peoples of Australia tell the same of the Rainbow Serpent, whose undulations carved the rivers and shaped the laws of community. In Mesoamerica, Quetzalcóatl, the Feathered Serpent, joined earth and sky, teaching knowledge, sacrifice, and the path of renewal.

Always the same figure: serpent, dragon, cosmic spine.

Rulers drew their legitimacy from this force. The Emperor of China sat upon the Dragon Throne, claiming alignment with Heaven’s current. In Wales, the red dragon was prophecy itself, foretelling sovereignty. In Eastern Europe, kings swore the Oath of the Dragon, binding their bloodlines to its power. Even Rome’s armies carried the draco standard into battle, a dragon’s head of cloth that filled with wind and came alive with fury.

What was this all pointing to? Not beasts of scale and fang, but the archetype of energy itself—the force that moves in veins of land, in bloodlines of kings, in the serpentine currents of the human spine. The dragon is the primordial current.

But power rewrites symbols. As empires rose and priesthoods sought control, the dragon’s image was twisted. The serpent of wisdom became the serpent of temptation. The guardian of waters and initiator of mysteries became Satan himself—the embodiment of evil, rebellion, and forbidden knowledge. What had been revered as balance and initiation was recast as danger and sin. This was no accident: to demonize the dragon was to sever people from their own alignment with the living currents of earth and soul.

Yet the ancients always knew the truth: the dragon is dual by nature. It is creator and destroyer, guardian and adversary, healer and devourer. To face the dragon is to face the mystery of power itself. The hero who slays or befriends it does not conquer an animal but learns to ride the surge of the cosmos. Saint Michael, Fáfnir’s slayer, Marduk against Tiamat, Thor against Jörmungandr—all these myths tell of humanity’s dance with the untamed, the elemental. Sometimes the dragon must be overcome, sometimes it must be honored—but always it marks the threshold of transformation.

And here lies the hidden lore: the Dragon is the name humanity gave to the great Accord between Heaven, Earth, and Soul. It is the living current binding mountain to temple, king to people, initiate to cosmos. Where the dragon is honored, harmony flows; where it is severed, chaos floods in.

We carry it still. In the coiling kundalini rising up the spine. In the ley lines humming beneath our feet. In the myths and banners that refuse to fade. The Dragon is not gone—it is the forgotten heartbeat of the world, waiting for us to remember.

09/22/2025

We are all a mix of what we consider Good and Bad. It is what we choose to do with it that makes the difference.

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09/18/2025

The only thing you have any control over, is yourself.

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09/16/2025

✨ Eclipse Season is here ✨
These cosmic tides stir up change, endings, and beginnings—the moments that rewrite your story.

I’m offering Astrological Transit Readings with card clarifiers to help you uncover your personal “Eclipse Story”—the karmic themes unfolding for you right now and the guidance you need to move through them with clarity.

🌑 Special Eclipse Season Offer 🌑
🔮 $40 for a full written reading
🌬 Available until the Autumn Equinox

This is your chance to see how the skies are shaping your path and what lessons are asking to be embraced.

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09/15/2025

How To Be a Man The Woke World Can’t Control.

— A Cold Truth Guide for Men Who Refuse to Be Domesticated by Modern Lies

Let’s tear off the filter.

This world wants you weak.

Not because it loves you.

But because a masculine man—focused, grounded, and unbending—is dangerous to systems built on manipulation.

They’ll call your strength “toxic.”

Your boundaries “abusive.”

Your standards “misogynistic.”

But here’s the truth:

You are not the problem.

You are the last line of defense.

Let’s break it down.

—

1. Masculinity Is Not Promiscuity—It’s Discipline

You think being a man is about sleeping with multiple women?

That’s not masculinity. That’s distraction.

Real masculine power is restraint.

Having options—
and still choosing peace.

Having urges—
and still building legacy.

It’s not about conquering women.

It’s about conquering yourself.

Any man can chase lust.

A king chooses purpose.

—

2. Don’t Let a Rebellious Woman Gaslight You Into Softness

She’ll call your boundaries “controlling.”
She’ll call your leadership “patriarchy.”
She’ll call your standards “insecurity.”

All because she can’t handle a man who doesn’t fold.

Don’t fall for it.

The moment you yield your edge to please her,
you become invisible to her.

You can’t win her love by becoming smaller.

You win your soul by staying firm.

—

3. A Woman Who Hates Masculinity Is Not a Partner—She’s a Saboteur

She says she wants an “equal partner”—
But expects you to pay, protect, and lead.

She wants the benefits of your masculinity—
without the accountability of your authority.

Release her.

You can’t lead a woman who thinks being led is oppression.

She’ll resent your strength until the day she meets a man who uses it to dominate her.

And by then, it’s too late.

—

4. Stop Competing With the Internet—Use It

While most men scroll aimlessly…

YouTube is teaching free skills.
Facebook is building global networks.
The internet is open 24/7.

No excuses.

You don’t need a mentor—
you need momentum.

Don’t fake it till you make it.

Study. Work. Rebuild.

Faking a moon landing costs more than launching a real one.

—

5. Never Be a Slave to Your Desires

Women. Food. Status. Dopamine.

The world will dangle them all in your face—

And call you “real” when you chase them.

But the man who wins in the long run
is the man who says:

“No.”

“No, I’m not giving my seed to chaos.”
“No, I’m not blowing money to impress strangers.”
“No, I’m not apologizing for my purpose.”

Masculinity is not about reacting.

It’s about ruling.

Over yourself first.

—

6. If You Have to Beg for Peace—You’ve Already Lost It

Coffee date?
That’s beneath her.

Split bills?
She’s insulted.

Basic respect?
She needs to “feel it” first.

If peace comes with a price tag,
you’re not in a relationship—
you’re in a subscription plan.

Stop investing in women who hate your simplicity,
but demand your stability.

She’s not a “queen.”

She’s a trap.

—

7. The World Will Call You Toxic—Until It Needs Saving

They mocked fathers until boys became monsters.

They mocked leaders until society lost direction.

They mocked men—
until the world started burning.

And suddenly?

Masculinity wasn’t “toxic” anymore.

It was necessary.

Be that necessity.

Not when it’s popular.

But when it’s needed.

—

Final Word

Stay masculine.

Not because it’s trendy.

But because it’s sacred.

Be the man who walks into a room with presence—not noise.

The man who doesn’t raise his voice—but raises the standard.

The man who leads—
without needing to be liked.

This world wants you soft.

But your mission demands strength.

So stop apologizing for it.

Your discipline is not a disorder.
Your clarity is not cruelty.
Your masculine frame is not a flaw.

It’s the foundation your future sons will stand on.

Be that foundation.

And never let anyone—
not a woman, not a movement, not a trend—
convince you to surrender your edge.

Because once you lose it?

You lose everything.

— © Elonaires | Magnus Media