Wakime Hauser – Page 2 – Wakime Hauser's Blog

Men healing – Round 2
- June 26, 2025
Shades of a Man (Podcast)
- May 30, 2025
Growth takes time!
- May 14, 2025
Men’s deserve to heal
- April 25, 2025

- Uncategorized
- April 18, 2024
Shame on us!

As a child, I often questioned the necessity of mundane tasks like brushing my teeth, attending school, and adhering to,...
- Books, Life Style
- August 21, 2024
We know what to do, We just don’t do it

In a world where information is at our fingertips and wisdom is more accessible than ever, why is it still,...

- Life Style
- April 17, 2023
Monkey see, monkey do!
LUST
- October 22, 2023

PLAN A

Plan B. What does that really mean? Does it mean you’re not fully confident…

Walnut

&lt My grandmother’s house always puts a smile on my face. It was the…

Court house

Walking into the courthouse in 2025 took me way back, way back to a…

NO Child left behind!!

A few weeks ago, I had the honor of speaking as part of Professor…

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Books, Fashion, Life Style, Life Style, Photograph
May 30, 2025

For those who’ve been following my journey, reading my blogs, sharing my words, reflecting with me—I want to say thank you. Your presence matters. Your support matters. But lately, I know you’ve noticed: I haven’t been blogging every week like I used to. That’s not because I stopped growing, or because I’ve run out of things to say. Quite the opposite. I’ve been doing deep work. I’ve been working on myself—the man I am and the man I’m becoming. Spiritually. Emotionally. Physically. I’ve been facing the mirror not just to look, but to see. And in that seeing, I’ve been peeling back layers… confronting old habits, past wounds, and truths I once ran from. I’ve been working on being a better father. A better friend. A better man of God. Not perfect—but present. At the same time, I’ve been working on something that’s lived inside me since I was a kid. Shades of a Man. It’s my poetry. It’s my story. It’s my shadow and my sunlight. I started writing when I was eight years old. Back then, it was just a way to cope, to create, to breathe. Now, it’s become something greater. A reflection of every chapter—young boy,,...

Uncategorized
March 27, 2024

Brown Paper Bag

Reflecting on childhood memories often brings to mind simpler times, like the excitement of packing a favorite lunchbox for school. For me, it was a toss-up between my Superman and Hulk lunchboxes – iconic symbols of my youthful enthusiasm. Do you recall your cherished lunch containers? The tradition of packing lunches might seem like a relic from the past, especially in today’s fast-paced world. Yet, I can still vividly recall the care my mother took in preparing my midday meal. Deli sandwiches were a staple, adorned with a choice of condiments – mustard for liverwurst, ham, and bologna, and mayo for roast beef and turkey. However, nothing could surpass the timeless appeal of a classic peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The jelly flavor was inconsequential; it was the creamy peanut butter that always won my heart. When a warm meal was on the cards, my mother’s ingenious solution was Campbell’s chicken noodle soup or Chef Boyardee, packed snugly in an insulated canister to keep it piping hot until lunchtime. While my school offered hot lunches every Friday – a treat I reserved for occasions like meatball grinders or pizza – I mostly stuck to the home-packed goodness. Trading snacks with,...

Uncategorized
February 6, 2023

The luck of the Irish ☘️ or NOT 3/17/1998

On Saint Patrick’s day of 1998, my first born son was born. At least that is what I THOUGHT. During labor, I was kicked out of the room because I was watching the Georgetown Hoyas Basketball game the night prior when my son’s mother began to have contractions. It was the NIT and they lost to Georgia Tech, I believe. I was given the gift of a healthy baby boy. I cried for two reasons: 1) I was a father 2) I was scared to death. I had started a full time job 3 months prior and was dealing with a paternity case at the same time, as If that was not enough. I was out of control mentally and, in my opinion, my son’s mother was not much better. Before he was even born, the arguments were out of control and I was headed for a domestic case. That eventually happened and to be honest, I could and should have been arrested more times than I was. I was too weak to leave and had such a large ego that I couldn’t allow someone to disrespect me. I do not know how I survived this relationship without doing some,...

Uncategorized
March 5, 2025

Walnut

&lt My grandmother’s house always puts a smile on my face. It was the most beautiful apartment in the world to me as a child, even though it was tucked inside the roughest projects in Mount Vernon, New York. Five towering ten-story brick buildings, stacked side by side, looming over a few tight acres of land. Off-street parking. A handful of basketball courts where the nets rarely lasted, and a playground that saw more fights than laughter some days. Outsiders feared these projects. They whispered about them like a forbidden place, a war zone. But for me, it was home. My second home. And I was never afraid. My grandmother’s apartment was a two-bedroom fortress with more locks than the U.S. Treasury. The sound of her unlocking the door was a ritual—a metallic symphony of bolts sliding, deadlocks clicking, chains rattling. And before you ever stepped inside, she cracked the door open just enough to peer through the chain, scanning to make sure you weren’t bringing unexpected company. That was normal to me. So normal that I never thought twice about it until I moved out of the city and realized not everyone lived behind layers of steel and suspicion.,...

Uncategorized
December 19, 2024

Christmas Reflection

Christmas has been many things to me over the course of my life, each chapter defined by where I was, who I was, and what I believed. It’s not just a holiday—it’s a mirror reflecting the seasons of my soul. As a child in a Lutheran school, Christmas was pure, untouchable, holy. It was about Christ in the manger, the shepherds guided by the star, and the profound meaning of a Savior’s birth. I remember the hymns, the Nativity plays, the sermons that made the story of Jesus come alive. It wasn’t about gifts—it was about grace, about the miracle of light piercing through darkness. Back then, my Christmases felt like an unbroken connection to something bigger than myself. I sang joy to the world at a catholic church this past weekend and it bought back so many memories. That connection faded when I transitioned to public school in the fifth grade. Suddenly, Christmas became about getting the gifts—the thrill of unwrapping boxes stacked under the tree, the joy of waking up early and tearing through wrapping paper like there was treasure hidden inside. I won’t lie; there was magic in that, too. But it was a different magic, one,...

Men healing – Round 2
- June 26, 2025
2
Shades of a Man (Podcast)
- May 30, 2025
Growth takes time!
- May 14, 2025
Men’s deserve to heal
- April 25, 2025