Wakime Hauser – Page 8 – 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 25, 2024
My circle, The power of the Mat!

As I stood on the mat, rooted yet weightless amidst the palpable energy, my mind embarked on a journey. Nine,...
- Uncategorized
- February 12, 2024
Wooden Spoon

The humble wooden spoon, a utensil often underestimated yet possessing remarkable longevity if cared for properly. I’ve used the same,...

- Life Style
- January 13, 2023
Bumpsy
We know what to do, We just don’t do it
- August 21, 2024

Growth is on YOU!!!

What’s up beautiful people! Today, I want to share with you something deeply personal…

Empowerment in Vermont: My Transformative Weekend with 25 Powerful Men of Color

Have you ever been surrounded by 20 or more men who made you feel…

The Forgotten Art of Navigation

The global positioning system (GPS) has spoiled us. How many people today could navigate…

The little loud ROCK 🪨

While in Vermont, my friend Alexx and I were driving up a gravel road…

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Books
February 6, 2024

I know all about being born with a plastic spoon. A plastic spoon might be found in the trash because it’s meant for one-time use only. Being born with a plastic spoon means one starts life at the bottom. One may have hard working parents who serve as good role models and provide what’s needed. However, when they pass away, they may not leave behind much except debt. Saying I was born with a plastic spoon isn’t a knock on my parents; it’s just the truth. I was born poor, with parents who were socially and economically uneducated. The likelihood of me graduating from college and earning a degree was extremely low. Yet, I earned a master’s degree and beyond, defining what hard work and determination are. My plastic spoon was fortunately handed to me in the 70s, before cell phones and computers became common items. I didn’t even realize I was poor or different until I moved to Greenwich, CT, from the Bronx in 5th grade. Being light-skinned in Mount Vernon and the Bronx, NY, led to me being called a ‘white boy.’ There was no such judgment when I moved to Greenwich; I was clearly black and clearly,...

Life Style
January 13, 2023

Bumpsy

Bumpsy, that is his name. Who is that? The man who showed me everything in life that I shouldn’t be, yet I wanted to become. The man who hurt me over and over again. The man who my sisters called Bumpsy. Bumpsy is/was my father. In the Winter of 2021, I forgave my dad and accepted his role in my life. He is the man who my sister and all his friends (none to date I trust) call Bumpsy. I could never call him that. I called him dad because that is who I wanted him too always be. It was not to the age of 41 that I realized what a father was. That is when I began a relationship with my first-born son. His presence forced me to be a father figure. It was not hard, I just told him the truth, good, bad and or neutral. At the age of 49 I am finally confident enough to be a good father. I am also smart enough not to try to make up for my prior shortcomings as a father in the past. I am here for my children now. I don’t baby them and I do not,...

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,...

Life Style
September 3, 2023

BRICK by BRICK

Building a 1000 square foot home with standard bricks typically requires around 7000 bricks. Each brick must be carefully laid, as any mistake can set off a domino effect, possibly leading to the structure’s collapse. I have fond memories of watching my Aunt’s brick home being constructed in the late 1970s. There were pallets of bricks all around, and each day showed significant progress. Although I had to leave before completion, when I returned the following summer, the house stood solid and welcoming. To me, the phrase “brick by brick” symbolizes the step-by-step approach, often involving manual labor. In life, many seek shortcuts or hacks to achieve their goals, but true accomplishments require embracing the process. Some may even pay for shortcuts, like buying a license in a trade or skill. My Aunt purchased a driver’s license but couldn’t drive, illustrating that shortcuts don’t grant true abilities. She had to learn to drive, just as I did. I distinctly remember learning to drive from my grandfather at a young age. Starting with a riding lawnmower at age 6, I gradually gained experience until I could smoothly shift gears in a manual car by age 14. Despite these skills, I couldn’t,...

Life Style
March 19, 2023

Back Yard Buddy

When my family moved to Greenwich CT in 1983, it was a culture shock to me. My entire life I had been called a white boy and now, for the first time, I wasn’t. In this new environment, I was vividly different. It wasn’t just the color of my skin. It was the core values that I was brought up with. In my opinion, I was raised to be tough outside of my home and submissive and obedient inside. I was trained to live a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde life. In Mount Vernon and the Bronx, NY, this lifestyle was accepted as normal because most of the kids I knew had similar expectations in and outside of their homes. Where I was coming from it was normal to see one of your friends get beaten in public. Greenwich was different, I mean REALLY different. For the first time in my life I saw kids talk back to their parents. They listened in school. However, they took their frustrations out on their parents. This was not true for everyone. However I had never seen a kid talk back to their parents when I moved to Greenwich. I mean I saw,...

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