A Mother's Truth

A Mothers Truth

Throughout my whole life my mother told me that the world is full of demons; beings of higher consciousness who choose to indulge in sinful transgressions. Humans are ignorant of the ways of the fallen. The leader of the fallen ones- the ultimate enemy of God -was interested only in enslaving humanity. For thousands of year’s humans were led astray from the higher consciousness of living, minds submerged like being in the darkest part of the ocean, deprived of any source of light, encouraged to take the path of lust and loneliness instead of experiencing love. Daughters stray away from the wisdom of their fathers, sons experience the endless satisfaction of fornication to replace the hole in their hearts. With greed the fallen ones yearned for gold, forced humans into slave labor mining for riches instead of looking inside themselves for true wealth. They formed the evil hierarchy of upper echelon masters where the higher you rose, the more of the soul you had to give up. They taught the children of Earth how to make weapons out of a variety of metals, the sword, the shield, and the spear, which ultimately summoned a thirst for blood. Men would get the taste of battle and become blood drunk. Humans were never intended to know the ways of the scholar, the forbidden knowledge of the universe which included the likes of mathematics, markings on parchments and astrology. When humans were created, we were created divine and holy, pure and untainted.

The fallen ones betrayal to the higher consciousness summoned illusions of death that brought confusion and despair for those who were not spiritually inclined. My mom informed me that some of these influencers you can’t see, but can be seen in other humans who were easily corrupted by their ways, dark spirits could temporarily take control of another person and force them to commit unspeakable acts.

These kind of revelations scared me as a child. Later on as a man I could see what my mother was talking about. How the world was still sick from the manipulations of the fallen ones.

My mother was strong though. She told me there was no reason to fear the world if you believe in a higher power. The ultimate source of energy was inside you, God’s given inheritance. Believing was the natural way for our people. The very Earth that we lived on was mysterious. She informed me that our people were the first to inherit the Earth and when the universe was ready to enter into a higher dimension, humanity would live the way the soul yearns from nostalgia, for the soul remembers all.

My upbringing and my mother’s couldn’t have been more different. A 1990’s kid is another world compared to a girl growing up in the 1960’s. She grew up poor in the deep south of Birmingham, Alabama with ten other siblings. Living in a shotgun house, the luxury of privacy was non-existent, sharing a bed with four siblings. All of them of them came across demonic influence from one time or another. Adolescence cut short by the natural cruelty of the world.

She would tell me stories of her upbringing. She had to get her toughness from somewhere. She would on occasion visit her grandmother, who built her livelihood bootlegging- a natural born hustler. She had a reputation around the area that she was nothing nice to be around. A small woman, no bigger than five feet, but cops were afraid to go over to her house. My mother never told me but there was something sinister in her eyes when reminiscing. Her grandmother, pure southern tough, like leathery beef jerky that had to be soaked in water before being able to chew, hated people who begged and that fact didn’t change even if you shared her blood. As a child my mother had a problem with begging, if someone had something to eat she always wanted a taste. One day her grandmother was cutting watermelon in the kitchen. My mother pleaded with her to give her a taste. As a result, she cut a watermelon in half, made her sit on the porch and told her she couldn’t leave the stoop until she ate the whole thing, seeds and all. To this day she won’t touch watermelon…and she never begged for anything again. A valuable trait she would later install in me growing up. No melon begging.

The fallen ones influence revealed itself in Birmingham when crack flooded the streets of her childhood neighborhood. A lot of black businesses that were flourishing slowly foreclosed. Crack destroyed families, the fallen ones lingering in the shadows ready to devour the weak.

I’ve always had my suspicions about how crack was distributed into poor neighborhoods, (hello Mr. Regan). Who could have the resources to bring that devilish poison in? Distributors didn’t mind infecting their own to rise high in gangster’s paradise- trading their humanity to fulfill their greed. Politicians entered their next phase of arresting the dealers while supplying became one of the most profitable business in America.

When my mother finished school, she kissed her mother goodbye: She told her to never come back here because there was nothing to come back to. Her mother was her closest confidant, as wise as she was loving and always gave my mother the best advice on how to make it through the valleys of life.

My mother moved to Texas and five years later she had me and raised me as a single parent, while my biological father continued to start up other franchises with other women. He couldn’t commit to being a full time father to his kids. So my mother had to be both feminine and masculine in order to keep me on the straight and narrow. Her wisdom told her early on to put me in sports that way I could receive different realms of discipline. She always attended all my sporting events, cheering me on. My childhood didn’t lack for anything. Food always on the table and she spoiled whenever she could.

My teenage years were the hardest for me. Every teenager thinks they have life figured out. The memories of all those sacrifices my mother did for me faded. I consumed a lot in those days from growing pains- to the point where I almost drowned in the booze.

The very demons she warned me about early on now had become my closest acquaintances. After all the warnings, after all the advice, I couldn’t see the falseness of the male comradery from those I called my brothers, who were in actuality plotting my destruction behind my back and smiling wicked smiles in front of me pouring another drink; the women I claimed to love, but were really succubi driving me to the brink of insanity with lustful emotions.

“You have forgotten yourself.” She would tell me simply. “Forgotten how to protect your energy, to center yourself. Remember where you are and the evil that wants to lure you down a dark path.” It was she who recommended mediation for me to fully live in the present.

It is a powerful thing to be an extension of your elders.

When I followed her advice I soon started to rise in consciousness. The illusion evaporated and I could see the evil in other people especially in the crowd I had thought had my best interest.

The first woman a man falls in love with is his mother. That kind of love is contagious and radiates off you. “Be patient with love”.

A quote from Jack Kerouac’s Aunt in “On the Road” always stuck with me: “The world would never find peace until men fell at their women’s feet and ask for forgiveness.” Maybe that is the only way to conquer the evil of the fallen ones. Love. And what are good mothers but love personified.