It was right after I came out to my parents. I have to say my parents because other than my sister my parents were deathly afraid of anyone finding out the shameful secret. I did share this information to the very few I could express myself freely with. Luckily I had select friends whose parents and them kept me loved and supported through these times. Its not that I could not process what they were doing as kind and/or necessary but the desire for me to have that from my own parents trumped any appreciation I could revel in.
This was the worst time for me and God, who in the Fuck was this God?! Terrible one! Killer of first borns! Plague bringer! Was it him who printed out my AOL conversation? The same God who when I lost my retainer for 3 days checking every pocket and drawer searching for in despair because my parents threatened for every day I could not produce the retainer I would be punished, only to find it in the pocket of the pants I had checked several times before? The God who made me this way?
This was the renewal of deep seeded depression and old insecurities that already infected me. It was some time later my mother told me she would find me as a young child in my room by myself or when I was alone and thought no one looking, crying and staring off into the distance. She would ask me what was wrong and I would respond with, "You don't understand. There is nothing you can do." When she would press me I would withdraw further into myself for days on end. I had to be reminded of this as somewhere and somehow I blocked this all out of my mind. I can only imagine that I knew I was different and I also knew it could not come to light without me feeling the scathing consequences. Seems I was right.
This led me to late night conversations with God. I hated him for all I was and all he allowed me to go through, and yet I had no choice but to turn to him in my times of need as was inculcated for me to do. I now can imagine the odd and damaging dynamic where the abused have to rely on their abuser for something due to circumstance and life positioning. In the contemplation of this relationship between me and God it was apparent that I was in an abusive relationship. He was emotionally unavailable and never answered when I requested of him his Divine aid. Surely he read my heart and new my desire. Countless nights haunted with insomnia, my ears wet from tears who ran their course as I laid looking at my ceiling. My eyes puffy and red spent from crying, my nose raw from blowing, my throat dry from incessant pleading for God to make me straight. To make me normal. What response did I get? Nothing. Silence, bleak and daunting met me these evening reminding me of my loneliness.
One night in one of my most earnest tear shed request from God, the Silence thundered and resounded. Stillness was present, this state of in between in which all things stopped. Time was not a factor. MY past and future did not exist I was left with me and only me in the present moment. In this moment I heard a voice, it was feminine. Deep with wisdom and yet light enough to ease my fears enough for me to listen. The voice spoke into my mind, rivaling the silence just moments before.
"God cannot and will not answer you. You ask what God cannot nor would not give. You ask him to make you normal and you make you different than how you are. God already declared all that was made, 'Good'. He has no answer for you and yet that is the answer. Gods silence is your answer."
This thought rocked me to my very core. I had been imploring God for something I could never have. I was left feeling like the kid who kept asking the parent for something that the Parent made it apparently clear the child could not have nor would they provide. Yet I expected a different answer, some how I wanted mountains to move, thunder in the clouds with loud voices and doves, I wanted cherubims with flaming wings and swords to reveal a different truth. That something was wrong with how I was and needed to be made differently. I believed this lie, all this time I had hung on the word of what others told me or showed me I was. I believed I was shameful, disgusting, unworthy of anything worthwhile.
God did not have a hand in my anything, or did he... Was the printing of my online conversations a push in the direction of me coming out? Something I would have avoided and continuously endeavored to live a double life in fear of being found out?
Was this the voice of God I heard moments before, this beautiful female voice? Was God a She?
It would not be until years later I understood the importance of Stillness and listening when in that space. What I did learn from that day forward was that shame was not something I was willing to carry. Not over my orientation which I could not change if I wanted to. Which I couldn't choose if I had tried. I was to start living in the notion and wonder of being me. Not that I knew who I was but By Golly I was going to find out without fear of anyone trying to dictate how I should feel or be in this life.
Tuesday, February 28, 2017
Monday, February 27, 2017
Coming Out #52essays2017 week 8
Realizing at a young age I liked other boys was weird. It was weird because while I knew what I was feeling felt natural and so strong, I also knew I could not share it or talk about it to anyone. Interestingly enough I had people around me who made fun of anything that was not Masculine enough to be defined through the lens of a societal norm as well as harsh criticism. Throughout the years I fantasized about if my first kiss would be with another boy, although the opportunity arose I was petrified by the sheer actuality of it and instead kissed my good friend sister instead. I had crushes on boys I may have went to school with but I knew all I could ever do was give them dap in passing and prove my "masculinity" to them by being able to walk the walk and talk the talk to whatever extent would leave me passing for acceptable.
Funny enough it was a young girl I befriended and her sister who gave me my first exploratory experiences and journey into sexuality and mutual pleasure. However, as mentioned in a prior essay the intimate reaction while beautiful and honorable left me empty and devoid of any connection. I was fully engaging in sexual relations with whomever I could and it only fed a desire in me to want more and more. This turned into anonymous encounters with random boys my age group or men who exceeded that age range. This anonymous world allowed sex to occur whenever how ever but little else. I didn't realize at the time I was using this momentary mutual desire to feel validated as a sexual being. Just the idea that someone picked me, or wanted me and enough to allow me to interact and participate with them. It sounds odd but it was the one moment where I did not bare the weight of feeling like the odd man out. The outsider looking at everyone else having what I felt I never could or would.It wasn't until my late teens that I was given the opportunity to meet other gay boys and men whom I could interact with on a sexual and friendly manner.
It was not until I had to come out to my parents that my world turned upside down. This was the day of AOL chatrooms where one could get a CD of free hours and trial time periods where on could interact with others all over the web with like interests. I had entered these gay chat room and flirted with men some of which were twice my age. We exchanged quips, laughs, and most of all sexual innuendo filled conversation that one could obligingly call "flirting." To this very day I cannot tell you how this happened, but the why was a apparent. I had had a half online half phone discussion with a 41 year old man who lived in Florida. He saw a pic of me and thought I was actually good looking, some thing I was not used to from random encounters where I felt any man would look at you a particular kind of way if horned up enough. We had proceeded to talk about our interests in music, and performing arts, for literature, and of course sex. A long detailed online conversation about how well we both enjoyed oral sex both giving and receiving. Well this exact conversation for some strange reason wound up printing out on the printer without my knowledge.
Not too far in the future, perhaps later that week I came home from high school and my father was in the kitchen. As I walked by he spoke at me, "Go upstairs to your room. You and I have to speak." I got nervous thinking perhaps I forgot to do some chore in the house he must have repeatedly asked me to perform. When my father came up the stairs and entered my room, he tossed a folded bunch of papers on the bed that separated us on either side of the small room. When I grabbed the paper and opened it up seeing my screen name and the other gentleman, I broke into a sweat. My stomach turned in nauseum, and I slowly looked up. My father was so upset but worse, the disappointment dripped from him in tandem with his sweat. He reminded me he was a man of the God and how I was raised. He explained that God, him and my mother did not raise no faggot and that I was no longer welcomed under his roof. I felt bereft and abandoned just then, where could I go? Would I have to ask around if anyone would take me in? If my own parents did not want me for being gay and I was their own child who else would even want me. My father in his anger when he found the letter, had called my sister who was living some distance away explained to her the circumstance by which I had to leave his house. This felt like a further betrayal, while I loved my sister dearly by way of nostalgic memories and general principle of family relation, we were not close by any means. Separated by several years and her moving out early from our house, I was Ashamed yet another party new my business and secret. My sister came and spoke to my parents and they directed her upstairs to my room to brief me on my departure to go live with her. I in no way was packing any bags I was too in shock at the reality that my parents kicked me out of my home. The only volumes across her visage. She said few words but they impacted me greatly, "How ya holding up?" I broke. I crumbled and I cried my greatest and deepest tears. Of all the things to come out of her mouth I didn't expect such sympathy and consideration for me and my feelings at this moment. She consoled me and told me what she would moments after leaving my room repeat verbatim to my parents.
"David, I love you. You are my little brother and I will always love you and support you. Nothing is wrong with you. Sure I can take you from here and put you in a school district somewhere else. The issue is... this is where you life is. This is your home and no one is going anywhere if I can help it." What magic words she used in reciting this to my parents I will never know but they worked. My father came up and told me he talked to my sister and decided it was not the best move but he did tell me that I had to talk to the Elders (leaders of the congregation) and tell them about the life I had been living.
Feeling choice-less and powerless I reluctantly agreed and the next time I went to church I looked around and realized this may be the last time I see these people under the pretenses that I was normal and accepted amongst them. I had to look around and see the face of my peers, some of which were school mates, adults who knew me since I was six years old and elders who led the congregation that I had respected and loved on some level. Post the service I was taken to the back by my parents and told to explain to the elders what I was and for how long. I was mortified I did not know where to start. Was this like confession of the Catholics? Was I supposed to tell them all the sexual acts had performed on both women and men alike? Was I just to tell them I was gay, as if that was the end all be all? I honestly do not remember exactly what I said or how I communicated the point across that me and men was what it was, and I could not repent about it because it was above me. This was not a choice but a natural inclination, an instinct that was with me from the beginning. The Elders did as I suspected they would they took to the bible to tell me how wrong I was in this area of my life, but I had access to the same scriptures and rebutted their admonishments with a few key scriptures I thought that explained love supersedes the trivial nonsense of who one actually loves or is attracted to in a consensual manner. I was made aware that I was to not speak to the rest of the congregation and I was to be announced as someone who was stripped of any titles I earned as an active member in the congregation and while many would not be made privy to the nature of my separation they would still know I was marked as "inapproachable" and "unrepentful." This was a sock and shock to my whole system. I had been actively attending this church with these people since I was 6, in ten years of building relationships and in some cases spiritually going through the motions I was being dismissed in mere minutes.
Later my mother bothered and hurt by all this recent news, lashed out in the worst possible way. Before I can tell you what she said or did I would have to first explain why it would hurt so much when she she did.
Me and my mother were like best friends. At birth after 36 hours of labor I had went into distress and died for a short amount of time and was resuscitated shortly afterwards. A Preemie by three weeks I was born small, nail-less and put into an incubator. My mother had formed a bond with me like no other. Some of my constant childhood memories is us at home as we played Crazy eights, Rummy 500, Gold Fish and War with decks of cards on our free time. My mother was good to come with a pen and pad and play Hanged man with me. We spent so much time watching shows on tv and movies and laughing about so much. I was the youngest I was home more than my siblings who were always out and about in the world being teenagers. Being the youngest I had to also learn how to cook at a young age. My mother a type 2 insulin dependent Diabetic would often get low blood sugar in which her behavior would change drastically and verge on violent, scary, or faintish in which a coma was not entirely out of the picture. I was trained at a young age to find something highly dissolvable like a mint or candy, or even juice which would spike her blood sugar much faster than most other things. Another sure fire thing to do was to get her to eat, which also helped to raise sugar. Worst case scenarios there was a special syringe in the refrigerator I was to use in the event she fainted and or became unconscious. I also new how to draw insulin into a syringe if need be and remove any free air before injecting as well as extracting blood from her fingertips to place on strips and run through her glucometer. This was all by 9-10 years of age I learned this. Many times I cooked my mother some eggs and toast or some rice and pan fried pork chops and I coerced her into sipping milk with sugar stirred in or juice if we had any.
So imagine my dismay and hurt when one day coming in from home, I walked into a silent kitchen. I greeted my mother kissed her cheek, of which she looked straight ahead and did not acknowledge my presence let alone return any affection. I figured she was still upset at what happened at me coming out. I chose to ignore and keep on moving, perhaps retreat to my room and avoid seeing my parents so miserable. As I walked out of the kitchen to leave what I heard stopped me in my tracks.
"You disgust me. Everything about you disgusts me. I cant even look at you without seeing a dick in your mouth and a cock in your ass. I wish you would have stayed dead when you were born. You are a waste of an investment f 17 years of my life. You think I didn't know you were bring a faggot in my own house. I found the sex toy in your draw. I knew you've been using them on yourself. Your fucking disgusting!"
I didn't feel the sadness I was my mothers child as feisty as they come and I had a retort on my lips as I released the following, "No mom you disgust me. You are nothing but a little girl afraid of life. Such an adult and you cant handle that I like boys, or as you know men. I must have gotten it form somewhere, probably you. I guess what really is sad about you is that you never loved me, you pretended for 17 years to give a shit about me and now you realized that was all based on one thing. Who you wanted me ot be and not who I actually am. SO the only one here disgusting is you."
I must have shocked the shit out of her because I did not feel the lethal tug from behind I would have expected for opening my mouth and talking back to my mother in such a manner. In fact I walked away and up to my room without any attack from behind signaling that I had crossed some line that did not fly in any Puerto Rican household. Everything became a blur after that, I remember something in me opening up and cracking straight down the middle. I was left open and exposed, and yet while tears flowed continuously I can honestly say I felt nothing. This was a numbness I never experienced in my life. Was this a natural chemical defense of endorphin that coursed through my body to avoid pain? I knew I was hurting and what was said devastated me, how could it not? And yet it was emptiness, as if my body reacted to what sadness would do to it but I was not there in the moment.
A day or two later as I read a book up in my room I heard wailing, such a grief stricken painful cry that I thought surely someone was dying. MY mother weak dragged herself on her stomach hands and knees up the stairs. her tears leaving a streak of regret on each step as she slowly made her way up. She apologized and asked forgiveness and In all the words she needed to get off her chest I could not hear any of them. I went through the motions yet again, got up and hugged her, consoled her through touch and silencing her mourning. Yet I felt nothing, I looked down at a stranger. I might have well been consoling anyone who fell and hurt their knee. I was left devoid of emotions, but I had a void the likes of which needed filling. That's in itself is a whole other essay.
Funny enough it was a young girl I befriended and her sister who gave me my first exploratory experiences and journey into sexuality and mutual pleasure. However, as mentioned in a prior essay the intimate reaction while beautiful and honorable left me empty and devoid of any connection. I was fully engaging in sexual relations with whomever I could and it only fed a desire in me to want more and more. This turned into anonymous encounters with random boys my age group or men who exceeded that age range. This anonymous world allowed sex to occur whenever how ever but little else. I didn't realize at the time I was using this momentary mutual desire to feel validated as a sexual being. Just the idea that someone picked me, or wanted me and enough to allow me to interact and participate with them. It sounds odd but it was the one moment where I did not bare the weight of feeling like the odd man out. The outsider looking at everyone else having what I felt I never could or would.It wasn't until my late teens that I was given the opportunity to meet other gay boys and men whom I could interact with on a sexual and friendly manner.
It was not until I had to come out to my parents that my world turned upside down. This was the day of AOL chatrooms where one could get a CD of free hours and trial time periods where on could interact with others all over the web with like interests. I had entered these gay chat room and flirted with men some of which were twice my age. We exchanged quips, laughs, and most of all sexual innuendo filled conversation that one could obligingly call "flirting." To this very day I cannot tell you how this happened, but the why was a apparent. I had had a half online half phone discussion with a 41 year old man who lived in Florida. He saw a pic of me and thought I was actually good looking, some thing I was not used to from random encounters where I felt any man would look at you a particular kind of way if horned up enough. We had proceeded to talk about our interests in music, and performing arts, for literature, and of course sex. A long detailed online conversation about how well we both enjoyed oral sex both giving and receiving. Well this exact conversation for some strange reason wound up printing out on the printer without my knowledge.
Not too far in the future, perhaps later that week I came home from high school and my father was in the kitchen. As I walked by he spoke at me, "Go upstairs to your room. You and I have to speak." I got nervous thinking perhaps I forgot to do some chore in the house he must have repeatedly asked me to perform. When my father came up the stairs and entered my room, he tossed a folded bunch of papers on the bed that separated us on either side of the small room. When I grabbed the paper and opened it up seeing my screen name and the other gentleman, I broke into a sweat. My stomach turned in nauseum, and I slowly looked up. My father was so upset but worse, the disappointment dripped from him in tandem with his sweat. He reminded me he was a man of the God and how I was raised. He explained that God, him and my mother did not raise no faggot and that I was no longer welcomed under his roof. I felt bereft and abandoned just then, where could I go? Would I have to ask around if anyone would take me in? If my own parents did not want me for being gay and I was their own child who else would even want me. My father in his anger when he found the letter, had called my sister who was living some distance away explained to her the circumstance by which I had to leave his house. This felt like a further betrayal, while I loved my sister dearly by way of nostalgic memories and general principle of family relation, we were not close by any means. Separated by several years and her moving out early from our house, I was Ashamed yet another party new my business and secret. My sister came and spoke to my parents and they directed her upstairs to my room to brief me on my departure to go live with her. I in no way was packing any bags I was too in shock at the reality that my parents kicked me out of my home. The only volumes across her visage. She said few words but they impacted me greatly, "How ya holding up?" I broke. I crumbled and I cried my greatest and deepest tears. Of all the things to come out of her mouth I didn't expect such sympathy and consideration for me and my feelings at this moment. She consoled me and told me what she would moments after leaving my room repeat verbatim to my parents.
"David, I love you. You are my little brother and I will always love you and support you. Nothing is wrong with you. Sure I can take you from here and put you in a school district somewhere else. The issue is... this is where you life is. This is your home and no one is going anywhere if I can help it." What magic words she used in reciting this to my parents I will never know but they worked. My father came up and told me he talked to my sister and decided it was not the best move but he did tell me that I had to talk to the Elders (leaders of the congregation) and tell them about the life I had been living.
Feeling choice-less and powerless I reluctantly agreed and the next time I went to church I looked around and realized this may be the last time I see these people under the pretenses that I was normal and accepted amongst them. I had to look around and see the face of my peers, some of which were school mates, adults who knew me since I was six years old and elders who led the congregation that I had respected and loved on some level. Post the service I was taken to the back by my parents and told to explain to the elders what I was and for how long. I was mortified I did not know where to start. Was this like confession of the Catholics? Was I supposed to tell them all the sexual acts had performed on both women and men alike? Was I just to tell them I was gay, as if that was the end all be all? I honestly do not remember exactly what I said or how I communicated the point across that me and men was what it was, and I could not repent about it because it was above me. This was not a choice but a natural inclination, an instinct that was with me from the beginning. The Elders did as I suspected they would they took to the bible to tell me how wrong I was in this area of my life, but I had access to the same scriptures and rebutted their admonishments with a few key scriptures I thought that explained love supersedes the trivial nonsense of who one actually loves or is attracted to in a consensual manner. I was made aware that I was to not speak to the rest of the congregation and I was to be announced as someone who was stripped of any titles I earned as an active member in the congregation and while many would not be made privy to the nature of my separation they would still know I was marked as "inapproachable" and "unrepentful." This was a sock and shock to my whole system. I had been actively attending this church with these people since I was 6, in ten years of building relationships and in some cases spiritually going through the motions I was being dismissed in mere minutes.
Later my mother bothered and hurt by all this recent news, lashed out in the worst possible way. Before I can tell you what she said or did I would have to first explain why it would hurt so much when she she did.
Me and my mother were like best friends. At birth after 36 hours of labor I had went into distress and died for a short amount of time and was resuscitated shortly afterwards. A Preemie by three weeks I was born small, nail-less and put into an incubator. My mother had formed a bond with me like no other. Some of my constant childhood memories is us at home as we played Crazy eights, Rummy 500, Gold Fish and War with decks of cards on our free time. My mother was good to come with a pen and pad and play Hanged man with me. We spent so much time watching shows on tv and movies and laughing about so much. I was the youngest I was home more than my siblings who were always out and about in the world being teenagers. Being the youngest I had to also learn how to cook at a young age. My mother a type 2 insulin dependent Diabetic would often get low blood sugar in which her behavior would change drastically and verge on violent, scary, or faintish in which a coma was not entirely out of the picture. I was trained at a young age to find something highly dissolvable like a mint or candy, or even juice which would spike her blood sugar much faster than most other things. Another sure fire thing to do was to get her to eat, which also helped to raise sugar. Worst case scenarios there was a special syringe in the refrigerator I was to use in the event she fainted and or became unconscious. I also new how to draw insulin into a syringe if need be and remove any free air before injecting as well as extracting blood from her fingertips to place on strips and run through her glucometer. This was all by 9-10 years of age I learned this. Many times I cooked my mother some eggs and toast or some rice and pan fried pork chops and I coerced her into sipping milk with sugar stirred in or juice if we had any.
So imagine my dismay and hurt when one day coming in from home, I walked into a silent kitchen. I greeted my mother kissed her cheek, of which she looked straight ahead and did not acknowledge my presence let alone return any affection. I figured she was still upset at what happened at me coming out. I chose to ignore and keep on moving, perhaps retreat to my room and avoid seeing my parents so miserable. As I walked out of the kitchen to leave what I heard stopped me in my tracks.
"You disgust me. Everything about you disgusts me. I cant even look at you without seeing a dick in your mouth and a cock in your ass. I wish you would have stayed dead when you were born. You are a waste of an investment f 17 years of my life. You think I didn't know you were bring a faggot in my own house. I found the sex toy in your draw. I knew you've been using them on yourself. Your fucking disgusting!"
I didn't feel the sadness I was my mothers child as feisty as they come and I had a retort on my lips as I released the following, "No mom you disgust me. You are nothing but a little girl afraid of life. Such an adult and you cant handle that I like boys, or as you know men. I must have gotten it form somewhere, probably you. I guess what really is sad about you is that you never loved me, you pretended for 17 years to give a shit about me and now you realized that was all based on one thing. Who you wanted me ot be and not who I actually am. SO the only one here disgusting is you."
I must have shocked the shit out of her because I did not feel the lethal tug from behind I would have expected for opening my mouth and talking back to my mother in such a manner. In fact I walked away and up to my room without any attack from behind signaling that I had crossed some line that did not fly in any Puerto Rican household. Everything became a blur after that, I remember something in me opening up and cracking straight down the middle. I was left open and exposed, and yet while tears flowed continuously I can honestly say I felt nothing. This was a numbness I never experienced in my life. Was this a natural chemical defense of endorphin that coursed through my body to avoid pain? I knew I was hurting and what was said devastated me, how could it not? And yet it was emptiness, as if my body reacted to what sadness would do to it but I was not there in the moment.
A day or two later as I read a book up in my room I heard wailing, such a grief stricken painful cry that I thought surely someone was dying. MY mother weak dragged herself on her stomach hands and knees up the stairs. her tears leaving a streak of regret on each step as she slowly made her way up. She apologized and asked forgiveness and In all the words she needed to get off her chest I could not hear any of them. I went through the motions yet again, got up and hugged her, consoled her through touch and silencing her mourning. Yet I felt nothing, I looked down at a stranger. I might have well been consoling anyone who fell and hurt their knee. I was left devoid of emotions, but I had a void the likes of which needed filling. That's in itself is a whole other essay.
Monday, February 20, 2017
The seen and felt #52essays2017 week 7
There are those moments where you find a mentor. You find a person to take you by the hand expecting nothing but your success. They see something in you that you did not see yourself and try to influence and shape you into the greatness they see while giving you room to be uniquely you. This was my friends mother. She decided to share with me her experience of seeing the unseen and dealing with them at a young age. Her experience started at three where spirits would enter her body and either she would take on a new persona, speak of things she couldn't possible know at her age or had yet to learn, or in some cases rolled across the floor as something stronger than her wrestled with trying to take over her person. She explained to me that as a little girl growing up in PR this was not so uncommon and she was placed on the path of keeping a mesa blanca (white table) which was a sacred space one set up in their home much like an altar. This was a space that was kept clean, and filled with key things that keep the spiritual energies flowing, and constant. There is a representation of the elements present and the table served as a plac of not only communication but trabajando la obra de dios (working the works of God).
The first reading I got was from my friends mom and sister who both told me of spirit guides they saw walking with me. They explained to me I was not alone and that at birth we were signed entities that work on the non physical plane in order to help us over come the trials of life and in essence by elevating us they elevate their stature and vibration/energy in that realm. This was a total foreign concept for me. All I knew was the vengeful Jehovah, taker out of first borns, bringer of plagues, God of the Israelites... then in contrast the very cool calm and collect Jesus who did major PR work for the prior God of the bible and his reputation. I knew from prior teachings there is only God and the Devil anything that wasn't what was considered God through the lens of the "organization" of Jehovahs witnesses then it was demonic. I had called on this God my whole life and felt very little of this loving and or protective presence that was described in scripture.
However, this new information had me reeling with the possibilities of perhaps I had been asking for the wrong help from the wrong source. I was calling to management in hopes they send someone down form headquarters meanwhile I had a whole league of co workers waiting for me to ask their help.
I was set on a road of development, where I started learning to do dedicative work at my altar. Learning to give energy in up-keeping and maintaining the altar, changing the waters in my glass(es) and burning of the incense or candles. This was more about keeping ourselves clean and maintained to be tapped into spirit, the altar was reflective of ourselves. Then came the prayer, yes the words had meaning as they were repeated over and over but the other thing they did was become a repetitive mantra or chant of sorts which allows one to zone out and quiet the mind so that one could truly hear. This was my biggest challenge and put me in a constant fear of not being heard yet again when I called out for assistance of a divine nature. There were times I would pray so long and so hard I would fall asleep at my altar. I would get frustrated because I was so impatient with the process, I felt all my altar maintenance and hard praying something should have happened. I don't know what I expected but part of it was some grand revelation, some parting of the clouds and some ray of light that speaks to me and validates my great job. Perhaps some spirit to appear in the friendliest of manners and letting me know all was not in vain and from now on we were gonna be best buddies. Nothing of the sort happened.
In the tradition we would have things called Misas, which could be likened to seances where spirit communication was sought out and where mediumship was developed. All present were encouraged to open up, quiet their minds stay in the present moment. Close their eyes and see, be still and listen. In these moments spirit would communicate with us. I attendee one of these almost every weekend for a year. I would see mediums give messages from the beyond, from dead relatives or interpreting messages from other spirit guides to those who needed to hear those exact messages. I felt so useless in these gatherings as I could in no way participate and just sat there enraptured by the information present but also wishing to participate in some way actively.
One day out of the blue it happened, I started having dreams with an old woman who seemed familiar although I never met her. Her name was confirmed as a family member of mine who I have not met and when I saw a picture of this deceased relative I was able to confirm this was the woman I had been dreaming with. Spirit guides started showing themselves to me and I was finally communicating with these entities. The next misa I attended I was able to pick up on information I was shown in my head in the form of flash images and strong impressions and I was able to speak up and give these messages to those in need.
For once I was not the odd man out, I was a part of something that was interactive and could be felt. This was so different than the monumental silence I had always experienced, this was tangible and could actually be felt.
This was the liberation I was looking for, being able to feel when I communed with the Divine. Being able to see and tap into that divine source. Being able to advise and minister to those who needed it.
This was what spurred religion, this connection made people seek out ways that could connect others to this great source. I also realized this was not a reliable way of approaching spirit, since everyone journey and connection to source is different and requires its own space and time to process and establish their connection.
The first reading I got was from my friends mom and sister who both told me of spirit guides they saw walking with me. They explained to me I was not alone and that at birth we were signed entities that work on the non physical plane in order to help us over come the trials of life and in essence by elevating us they elevate their stature and vibration/energy in that realm. This was a total foreign concept for me. All I knew was the vengeful Jehovah, taker out of first borns, bringer of plagues, God of the Israelites... then in contrast the very cool calm and collect Jesus who did major PR work for the prior God of the bible and his reputation. I knew from prior teachings there is only God and the Devil anything that wasn't what was considered God through the lens of the "organization" of Jehovahs witnesses then it was demonic. I had called on this God my whole life and felt very little of this loving and or protective presence that was described in scripture.
However, this new information had me reeling with the possibilities of perhaps I had been asking for the wrong help from the wrong source. I was calling to management in hopes they send someone down form headquarters meanwhile I had a whole league of co workers waiting for me to ask their help.
I was set on a road of development, where I started learning to do dedicative work at my altar. Learning to give energy in up-keeping and maintaining the altar, changing the waters in my glass(es) and burning of the incense or candles. This was more about keeping ourselves clean and maintained to be tapped into spirit, the altar was reflective of ourselves. Then came the prayer, yes the words had meaning as they were repeated over and over but the other thing they did was become a repetitive mantra or chant of sorts which allows one to zone out and quiet the mind so that one could truly hear. This was my biggest challenge and put me in a constant fear of not being heard yet again when I called out for assistance of a divine nature. There were times I would pray so long and so hard I would fall asleep at my altar. I would get frustrated because I was so impatient with the process, I felt all my altar maintenance and hard praying something should have happened. I don't know what I expected but part of it was some grand revelation, some parting of the clouds and some ray of light that speaks to me and validates my great job. Perhaps some spirit to appear in the friendliest of manners and letting me know all was not in vain and from now on we were gonna be best buddies. Nothing of the sort happened.
In the tradition we would have things called Misas, which could be likened to seances where spirit communication was sought out and where mediumship was developed. All present were encouraged to open up, quiet their minds stay in the present moment. Close their eyes and see, be still and listen. In these moments spirit would communicate with us. I attendee one of these almost every weekend for a year. I would see mediums give messages from the beyond, from dead relatives or interpreting messages from other spirit guides to those who needed to hear those exact messages. I felt so useless in these gatherings as I could in no way participate and just sat there enraptured by the information present but also wishing to participate in some way actively.
One day out of the blue it happened, I started having dreams with an old woman who seemed familiar although I never met her. Her name was confirmed as a family member of mine who I have not met and when I saw a picture of this deceased relative I was able to confirm this was the woman I had been dreaming with. Spirit guides started showing themselves to me and I was finally communicating with these entities. The next misa I attended I was able to pick up on information I was shown in my head in the form of flash images and strong impressions and I was able to speak up and give these messages to those in need.
For once I was not the odd man out, I was a part of something that was interactive and could be felt. This was so different than the monumental silence I had always experienced, this was tangible and could actually be felt.
This was the liberation I was looking for, being able to feel when I communed with the Divine. Being able to see and tap into that divine source. Being able to advise and minister to those who needed it.
This was what spurred religion, this connection made people seek out ways that could connect others to this great source. I also realized this was not a reliable way of approaching spirit, since everyone journey and connection to source is different and requires its own space and time to process and establish their connection.
Monday, February 13, 2017
From Looking to Seeing #52essays2017 week 6
A few years into the mix of me having freedom living virtually on my own and studying bits and pieces of various traditions, spiritual practices and religions I started to feel the loosening of the chains that bound me to old God concepts and ideas. I had been working in the hospital with my cousin and we became even closer than any two siblings could get. While practicing Wicca with her and being turned on to the connection of elements and spirit to energy work, I still was not completely taken with the wiccan practice. I was grateful to it, I sensed its power and or energy as a practice which was in stark contrast to the Kingdom Hall in which I felt was devoid of all energy, spiritual or otherwise. I just did not find the connecting feeling in which one feels so overwhelmingly drawn to a practice that they can claim their own.
In the course of me working at the hospital I befriended a young lady a few years older then me but in my age group none the less. We talked for two minutes in person and were instantly drawn to each other. Two peas in a pod, this was a best friend from another lifetime that I found again. Of this I was so sure. We began to spend lunches together as my shifts fluctuated between night times I spent more with my cousin and day times I was able to spend with my new friend. One particular day when we were sitting and having lunch we were discussing spirituality and the many religions and practices that exist. She was scared or mistrusting of my cousins Wiccan practice, the notion of her being a witch made my new friend automatically think of "dark" magic or devil worship. I took the opportunity to educate her that it was not that at all, and that the connection to the earth and sky around us was inherent and natural and there was no devil in the wiccan belief. She began to tell me of al the spirits she had encountered in her life and how they were dealt with either by herself or her family. This was like a missing key to my secrets, I too had obviously had so may experiences but never was able to 'deal' with them per se more than I was at their mercy. After discussing with her my perceptions and experiences with the unseen, she grew interested and asks me, " Have you ever heard of Santeria?"
I clutched my invisible pearls and gawked at her... did she just...? The first things that flew out of my mouth was the old rhetoric. "Bitch I don't worship the damn Devil. I don't kill chickens and goats and shit! Oh hell nah!"
She laughed but she took the time, as I did previously, to educate me a bit on what the Orisa were and that is was much more than I was thinking and or allowing it to be. She invited me to her mothers at that time 32nd anniversary of when she got initiated to the Lucumi (afro Cuban Orisa worship) deity, Yemaya. I was hesitant beyond belief but I decided to take her up on her offer.
About a week from the time she asked me I arrived at a ranch house in the wyndanch/Wheatley heights section of Long Island. I entered a house with Salsa , reggaeton, and hip hop playing and smelled the familiar smells of sofrito and Puerto Rican cuisine. This was not spooky at all so far and I definitely did not hear the sounds of chickens clucking or winnies of any goats. I was introduced to my friends mother, her aunts and her cousins and brother. I was taken in like family right away to this endearing family. we moved the festivities downstairs and I was in awe as I took in the beautiful display in front of me. It was a large blue and white Chinese ceramic jar standing regally in the middle of a space that contained fresh colorful fruit, fragrant flower. The walls were draped with cloth that were various shades of blue and I was overcome with an emotion I could not explain. I was in awe and reverence but could not put a finger on why or what exactly, I just knew this was Hollow ground. It was explained to me that this was a day in honor of Yemaya and her pact with my friends mother who initiated into her priesthood. The woman began to speak about her honor and thanks to yemaya and the room became deathly quiet, and something in the atmosphere changed. My arm hair raised, the hair on the back of my neck stood on end and goosebumps traveled from the nape of my neck,down my arms and through my torso. Just then my friends mother shakes as if touched by electricity and she almost falls over. She was aught and held up by family what she said next was, "Yemaya madre del mundo (Mother of the world)will be respected and will show the extent of her power in a big way this year, that we may pay attention and respect the water that covers the earth." Everyone nodded but the energy still permeated the room and everyone could still feel it. At one point my friend brought me over to her aunt and mother and asked, "what orisa do you think he would be initiated to?" The two women looked at each other looked back at me and said, "Oshun." I had no idea who that was or why they smiled with knowing eyes but I just nodded and smiled myself. By the end of that short time spent with the mother and family I felt that whatever preconceived notions I had of Santeria were wrong. Having felt supernatural energies that did not feel so nice, this was the complete opposite. This was the current of energy that most sought out to feel when interacting with the divine.
I befriended the mother and she began to open my eyes to a new world. She introduced me to espiritismo, this was a practice that developed on the islands to various degrees but most associated with Cuba and in this case Puerto Rico. This was a blend of practices loosely based on Catholicism, indigenous Arawak and imported captured African beliefs. Allen Kardec a scientist turned believer had interviewed mediums who were trance possessed and collected and documented all that the spirits had shared with him. Some of these teachings permeated the island and developed methods to communicate and deal with spirits, but the culture of the island severely influenced the spiritual movement and practice and this was something that was practiced to this very day. What I was being taught was that not only was I able to commune with any spirits that came my way, I was also able to protect myself from anything I did not want to deal with, and I was able to identify what and who the spirits were. Another saving grace was I had my own spirit guides and protectors I could work with closely and call upon to help me in any instance naturally and supernaturally.
This rocked my entire world. I felt cheated I some way and betrayed that this info was somewhere out there and I had gone through so much fear in my life when I could have easily dealt with this early if someone was willing to help me develop spiritually to work and deal with spirit.
I finally felt empowered and able to deal with things that may or may not have come my way. I was instructed on how to set up a personal altar, how to clean and prepare my space and how to sit still in the sacred space I create and commune or do dedication work for to and for my spirit guides. My eyes were open I was finally able to see and through the connections being made I was able to feel a deep connection the likes I did not feel in any previous practice. It was wonderful not feeling blind or ignorant to things.
In the course of me working at the hospital I befriended a young lady a few years older then me but in my age group none the less. We talked for two minutes in person and were instantly drawn to each other. Two peas in a pod, this was a best friend from another lifetime that I found again. Of this I was so sure. We began to spend lunches together as my shifts fluctuated between night times I spent more with my cousin and day times I was able to spend with my new friend. One particular day when we were sitting and having lunch we were discussing spirituality and the many religions and practices that exist. She was scared or mistrusting of my cousins Wiccan practice, the notion of her being a witch made my new friend automatically think of "dark" magic or devil worship. I took the opportunity to educate her that it was not that at all, and that the connection to the earth and sky around us was inherent and natural and there was no devil in the wiccan belief. She began to tell me of al the spirits she had encountered in her life and how they were dealt with either by herself or her family. This was like a missing key to my secrets, I too had obviously had so may experiences but never was able to 'deal' with them per se more than I was at their mercy. After discussing with her my perceptions and experiences with the unseen, she grew interested and asks me, " Have you ever heard of Santeria?"
I clutched my invisible pearls and gawked at her... did she just...? The first things that flew out of my mouth was the old rhetoric. "Bitch I don't worship the damn Devil. I don't kill chickens and goats and shit! Oh hell nah!"
She laughed but she took the time, as I did previously, to educate me a bit on what the Orisa were and that is was much more than I was thinking and or allowing it to be. She invited me to her mothers at that time 32nd anniversary of when she got initiated to the Lucumi (afro Cuban Orisa worship) deity, Yemaya. I was hesitant beyond belief but I decided to take her up on her offer.
About a week from the time she asked me I arrived at a ranch house in the wyndanch/Wheatley heights section of Long Island. I entered a house with Salsa , reggaeton, and hip hop playing and smelled the familiar smells of sofrito and Puerto Rican cuisine. This was not spooky at all so far and I definitely did not hear the sounds of chickens clucking or winnies of any goats. I was introduced to my friends mother, her aunts and her cousins and brother. I was taken in like family right away to this endearing family. we moved the festivities downstairs and I was in awe as I took in the beautiful display in front of me. It was a large blue and white Chinese ceramic jar standing regally in the middle of a space that contained fresh colorful fruit, fragrant flower. The walls were draped with cloth that were various shades of blue and I was overcome with an emotion I could not explain. I was in awe and reverence but could not put a finger on why or what exactly, I just knew this was Hollow ground. It was explained to me that this was a day in honor of Yemaya and her pact with my friends mother who initiated into her priesthood. The woman began to speak about her honor and thanks to yemaya and the room became deathly quiet, and something in the atmosphere changed. My arm hair raised, the hair on the back of my neck stood on end and goosebumps traveled from the nape of my neck,down my arms and through my torso. Just then my friends mother shakes as if touched by electricity and she almost falls over. She was aught and held up by family what she said next was, "Yemaya madre del mundo (Mother of the world)will be respected and will show the extent of her power in a big way this year, that we may pay attention and respect the water that covers the earth." Everyone nodded but the energy still permeated the room and everyone could still feel it. At one point my friend brought me over to her aunt and mother and asked, "what orisa do you think he would be initiated to?" The two women looked at each other looked back at me and said, "Oshun." I had no idea who that was or why they smiled with knowing eyes but I just nodded and smiled myself. By the end of that short time spent with the mother and family I felt that whatever preconceived notions I had of Santeria were wrong. Having felt supernatural energies that did not feel so nice, this was the complete opposite. This was the current of energy that most sought out to feel when interacting with the divine.
I befriended the mother and she began to open my eyes to a new world. She introduced me to espiritismo, this was a practice that developed on the islands to various degrees but most associated with Cuba and in this case Puerto Rico. This was a blend of practices loosely based on Catholicism, indigenous Arawak and imported captured African beliefs. Allen Kardec a scientist turned believer had interviewed mediums who were trance possessed and collected and documented all that the spirits had shared with him. Some of these teachings permeated the island and developed methods to communicate and deal with spirits, but the culture of the island severely influenced the spiritual movement and practice and this was something that was practiced to this very day. What I was being taught was that not only was I able to commune with any spirits that came my way, I was also able to protect myself from anything I did not want to deal with, and I was able to identify what and who the spirits were. Another saving grace was I had my own spirit guides and protectors I could work with closely and call upon to help me in any instance naturally and supernaturally.
This rocked my entire world. I felt cheated I some way and betrayed that this info was somewhere out there and I had gone through so much fear in my life when I could have easily dealt with this early if someone was willing to help me develop spiritually to work and deal with spirit.
I finally felt empowered and able to deal with things that may or may not have come my way. I was instructed on how to set up a personal altar, how to clean and prepare my space and how to sit still in the sacred space I create and commune or do dedication work for to and for my spirit guides. My eyes were open I was finally able to see and through the connections being made I was able to feel a deep connection the likes I did not feel in any previous practice. It was wonderful not feeling blind or ignorant to things.
Monday, February 6, 2017
From unseen to understanding #52essays2017 week 5
I left the church, the whys are a conglomeration of things. I am seventeen and change approaching eighteen and I had come to the conclusion God and me did not mix and could not mix. I was outside the conditions in which it was said God would love me. I already had this strained relationship with this supposed being who loved but judged all things and people, most of all people like me. I had a couple of major things against me. However, religion and the Kingdom Hall was all I knew. These dogmatic teachings were inculcated into my mind and very being. It was second nature for me to "educate" someone about the biblical verses and from a lens by which the watchtower strongly influenced. I found myself in a very odd position as a young teen. My parents had decided to move and in the process had stayed with my aunt for a week or two. I knew of all things I was not going to live back with my parents I could no longer keep this as an option. I approached my aunt and asked if I could live with her for a bit until I got my own place. I asked her what my cousin paid and offered to pay double that. She of course talked it over with her husband and it was agreed upon that I could stay.
Funny thing is during the course of us staying at my aunts house my mom has seen apparitions and felt the presence of something she claimed was dark. I could not say I saw what she saw but one night when I had come in and laid on the make shift bed of blankets and sheets made for me, as my aunt accommodated a whole other family in her house. I kept feeling the bed thump to my left shake and then I felt a smooth recurrent wind by my face as if someone or something was waving their hand in front of my face. I noticed each time the air by my face switched the bed thumped. My mother was mumbling and praying telling whatever it was to leave her alone and get out of the room. I asked her what was wrong she said the spirits were messing with the bed, and I was spooked as I was able to see underneath the bed clearly as my face was perfectly level with it and I couldn't see a thing but felt the rushing breeze as some force shook the bed. IT stopped shortly afterwards. Even with that episode I decided I rather take my chances staying in my aunts house than living with my parents.
My first night in the house by myself I was sleeping on the couch and I was falling asleep and nodding out. My aunt had a cat at the time who would of course use the late hours of the evening to play and run around the house to expend energy. Well the cat was sitting on it hind legs with his paws up tapping at the air as he played.. as I nodded off and my eyelids became heavier something took shape in front of the cat. It was a hairless small impish creature who was sitting on the opposite end of the couch playfully tapping back at the cat... I bolted up in shock and stifled a scream. My cousin heard me and ran out of her room, to check I told her what I saw. She laughed it off and went back to her room and I stood up that night until I couldn't fight sleep no longer and it overtook me.
Next even in that house was a shared experience. Me and my cousin worked at one of the local hospitals and would come home a little after 11pm stay up until 2am and then go to sleep. This particular night we stood up talking and decided we were too tired to move from our seats. Me on the couch and her on the recliner out.. well she got up and turned off the light over the computer desk in the living room and went back to the recliner. Once she settled back in her seat the light turned back on. At this point we looked at each other a little spooked. She got back up and turned it off again and on her way back to the recliner it turned back on. She sat back in the recliner as though it may have been a bastion of safety for her. The spirits had another agenda however, to prove their presence they decided to shake her recliner with the intensity of a small earth quake. My cousins eyes opened wide as did mine.. she got up and looked at me and said, so you want to sleep in my bed. I quickly responded yes and that was how we shared the bed the remainder of our time living together.
My cousin, my fellow Cancerian who was only one year and two days younger than me was my twin. She felt and saw what I felt and saw most times or was aware. We were often in synch and I was glad to have someone validate my experiences in which I would have felt crazy had I experienced them alone. I was always plagued as I mentioned in my second memoir essay, with sleep paralysis. One particular night I was being plagued by the heavy feeling which kept me in place and scared witless as I found myself unable to move. MY cousin heard my moans and turned over to shove me when she said she saw something cloudlike hovering over me and when she shrieked it vanished and that's when I came too with full mobility.
During these few years I stood with my cousin and aunt I fought severe depression. I had no sense of spirituality and one thing I knew about my cousin was that she was Wiccan. She was open about it and had pentagrams, smudging bundles, athames, and various other craft books. She often invited me to cast circle with her and raise energy but I had too much fear in what the church had placed in my psyche which caused me to object anything other than what I had. MY cousin was patient and would still invite me, and one day realization hit me. If God did not love me anyway and was not there for me I had nothing to lose in trying something new. The old way obviously did not work, maybe a new way would.
Casting circle was peaceful, it was abuzz with energy that charged the air with in the circle. You could feel the atmosphere change and crackle with energy as spell work was done until it was all released when the circle was taken down and closed.
This led to us taking a class in Sayville where we learned form two coven leaders who taught metaphysics through a wiccan lens, and craft work. It opened my mind to connecting to the Divine through the elements and the various archetypes of deities as they exist in various pantheons. This opened my mind back up to the possibility that God or a source of power existed that was operating in all things and maybe it was less of this man in the sky who was all powerful and so vengeful. A Mary H, owner of the shop at the time would often discuss southern root work with me because she said she felt I had a knack for it. She read me with a tarot deck in her shop one day and told me to not fear my gift and to tap into my Cancerian intuition and allow myself to see and feel what I have closed myself off too in fear. She told me at around or near 30 I would shift and find something totally different than what I am even learning about now. She said she saw me all in white with beads and I would either be a mambo/hougan or a Santero. I opposed all of that and could not believe she could suggest such a thing, I would never worship the Devil or kill animals in a basement. How ignorant I was then believing I was still above these "other ways" I had closed myself off too haughtily as if I had no been judged and castoff from the very church who taught me these very thoughts.
I at least knew at this point spirit existed and it did not have to be a bad thing but an energy we could call upon and or manipulate to some degree when raising energy that helped the other elementals feed the desired intent and result we put into the universe through craft work. Something shifted in me in regards to spirit and how I could now deal with my interaction with it/them better. I could walk unafraid to a degree with a new mindset and knowledge regarding that unseen realm. How good to know I could have a handle on things and I was powerful enough to protect myself if I so choose.
Funny thing is during the course of us staying at my aunts house my mom has seen apparitions and felt the presence of something she claimed was dark. I could not say I saw what she saw but one night when I had come in and laid on the make shift bed of blankets and sheets made for me, as my aunt accommodated a whole other family in her house. I kept feeling the bed thump to my left shake and then I felt a smooth recurrent wind by my face as if someone or something was waving their hand in front of my face. I noticed each time the air by my face switched the bed thumped. My mother was mumbling and praying telling whatever it was to leave her alone and get out of the room. I asked her what was wrong she said the spirits were messing with the bed, and I was spooked as I was able to see underneath the bed clearly as my face was perfectly level with it and I couldn't see a thing but felt the rushing breeze as some force shook the bed. IT stopped shortly afterwards. Even with that episode I decided I rather take my chances staying in my aunts house than living with my parents.
My first night in the house by myself I was sleeping on the couch and I was falling asleep and nodding out. My aunt had a cat at the time who would of course use the late hours of the evening to play and run around the house to expend energy. Well the cat was sitting on it hind legs with his paws up tapping at the air as he played.. as I nodded off and my eyelids became heavier something took shape in front of the cat. It was a hairless small impish creature who was sitting on the opposite end of the couch playfully tapping back at the cat... I bolted up in shock and stifled a scream. My cousin heard me and ran out of her room, to check I told her what I saw. She laughed it off and went back to her room and I stood up that night until I couldn't fight sleep no longer and it overtook me.
Next even in that house was a shared experience. Me and my cousin worked at one of the local hospitals and would come home a little after 11pm stay up until 2am and then go to sleep. This particular night we stood up talking and decided we were too tired to move from our seats. Me on the couch and her on the recliner out.. well she got up and turned off the light over the computer desk in the living room and went back to the recliner. Once she settled back in her seat the light turned back on. At this point we looked at each other a little spooked. She got back up and turned it off again and on her way back to the recliner it turned back on. She sat back in the recliner as though it may have been a bastion of safety for her. The spirits had another agenda however, to prove their presence they decided to shake her recliner with the intensity of a small earth quake. My cousins eyes opened wide as did mine.. she got up and looked at me and said, so you want to sleep in my bed. I quickly responded yes and that was how we shared the bed the remainder of our time living together.
My cousin, my fellow Cancerian who was only one year and two days younger than me was my twin. She felt and saw what I felt and saw most times or was aware. We were often in synch and I was glad to have someone validate my experiences in which I would have felt crazy had I experienced them alone. I was always plagued as I mentioned in my second memoir essay, with sleep paralysis. One particular night I was being plagued by the heavy feeling which kept me in place and scared witless as I found myself unable to move. MY cousin heard my moans and turned over to shove me when she said she saw something cloudlike hovering over me and when she shrieked it vanished and that's when I came too with full mobility.
During these few years I stood with my cousin and aunt I fought severe depression. I had no sense of spirituality and one thing I knew about my cousin was that she was Wiccan. She was open about it and had pentagrams, smudging bundles, athames, and various other craft books. She often invited me to cast circle with her and raise energy but I had too much fear in what the church had placed in my psyche which caused me to object anything other than what I had. MY cousin was patient and would still invite me, and one day realization hit me. If God did not love me anyway and was not there for me I had nothing to lose in trying something new. The old way obviously did not work, maybe a new way would.
Casting circle was peaceful, it was abuzz with energy that charged the air with in the circle. You could feel the atmosphere change and crackle with energy as spell work was done until it was all released when the circle was taken down and closed.
This led to us taking a class in Sayville where we learned form two coven leaders who taught metaphysics through a wiccan lens, and craft work. It opened my mind to connecting to the Divine through the elements and the various archetypes of deities as they exist in various pantheons. This opened my mind back up to the possibility that God or a source of power existed that was operating in all things and maybe it was less of this man in the sky who was all powerful and so vengeful. A Mary H, owner of the shop at the time would often discuss southern root work with me because she said she felt I had a knack for it. She read me with a tarot deck in her shop one day and told me to not fear my gift and to tap into my Cancerian intuition and allow myself to see and feel what I have closed myself off too in fear. She told me at around or near 30 I would shift and find something totally different than what I am even learning about now. She said she saw me all in white with beads and I would either be a mambo/hougan or a Santero. I opposed all of that and could not believe she could suggest such a thing, I would never worship the Devil or kill animals in a basement. How ignorant I was then believing I was still above these "other ways" I had closed myself off too haughtily as if I had no been judged and castoff from the very church who taught me these very thoughts.
I at least knew at this point spirit existed and it did not have to be a bad thing but an energy we could call upon and or manipulate to some degree when raising energy that helped the other elementals feed the desired intent and result we put into the universe through craft work. Something shifted in me in regards to spirit and how I could now deal with my interaction with it/them better. I could walk unafraid to a degree with a new mindset and knowledge regarding that unseen realm. How good to know I could have a handle on things and I was powerful enough to protect myself if I so choose.
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