Lives I've Lived

I've never understood humanities irrational fear of death. The obsessive need to believe death is something that can be wrangled or broken like the spirit of an animal into submission. An inevitability that is capable of being outwitted to the point of complete avoidance. People battle with the concept of death as if it doesn't slowly lurch towards all of us with every step we take and every breath we are allowed to experience. In my 30 years I've had the honor of walking with death twice. I like to think of us as close friends or comrades-in-arms. People see death as a defeat or a battle lost. Like it's some form of chaotic violence that needs controlling. The idea is like a fly trying to stop us semitruck as it roars down the freeway going 60 miles an hour. Death is an inescapable truth, a finish line to the marathon of this existence in which we call life. In my experience death is gentle and kind. That unique moment when a butterfly chooses you. When you feel it land softly on your skin like a whisper. A gentle wind felt in between each flutter of its wings. Death should not invoke fear, but an appreciation for the time life has allowed you to live. There is beauty in death.

My first experience with death was before I was even born. I was a twin and due to unfortunate circumstances, and some domestic violence, I was the only survivor. Being born into a world where only half of your soul is present and the other half resides in the spirit realm, I have been able to walk in a space in which I call the in-between. From an early age I knew I was different. My Mema used to say I was gifted. She referred to me as, what her mother used to say was a touched child. Touched by death but given the grace to continue on. Not too many people in my family knew I was a twin, my mother tried to keep it a secret. She burdened herself with a lot of unnecessary shame because of the situation. I never held it against her, sometimes it just works out that way. My mother's favorite story to tell about the night of my birth was how when she was in labor, she could hear the hooting of a night owl sitting outside of the hospital room in an old willow tree. She has always emphasized the symbolism in those moments as she brought me into this world. In some cultures, owls are seen as omens of wisdom and regal silence matched with fierce intelligence. In other cultures, owls are seen as harbingers of death. Owls are seen as mysterious creatures of the night, bringing a dark veil of curiosity and intrigue. There are beliefs that this nocturnal bird accompanies the dead in their journey to their afterlife. This is why hearing the hooting of an owl was believed to be an unlucky omen. I guess it all boils down to a person’s perspective. Considering the situation and my rigid and cantankerous relationship with my mother, I could never really understand her take on the experience.

My Mema was the only one who could understand me. She had died and was revived on the operating table during her double mastectomy as she battled her second bout of breast cancer. She was no stranger to death herself. She was a hardened woman who fought with every ounce of her five foot nothing southern woman spirit. Mema was my namesake, and we shared the same birthday. She's the only one who could help me understand my gifts and what was happening to me. When I was five, I told her about my friend that only I could see. How my friend looked just like me and knew everything I was feeling and helped me. As I explained as best I could at five years old, I could see the look on Mema’s face. The realization that I was still connected to my sister. My sister that never got the opportunity to enter into this realm, this world. I just remember Mema sitting me down and explaining to me how certain members of our family had particular abilities we weren't allowed to discuss. That's when I realized, normalcy would never be an option for me.

As my life continued, near death experiences were always something that seemed to be just a breath away. I remember on one of our family vacations we rented a cabin on the rez near the ocean. The beautiful black sand smooth without a rock insight and the swift ocean waves as they stroked the coastline seemed so beautiful and ominous. A deadly beauty that snatched me up and nearly swallowed me whole. The ocean waves came in so quickly and without warning sweeping me off my feet dragging me into the water. All I can remember is the taste of salt water in my nostrils and mouth while the grittiness of the sand tore at my eyelids. I remember trying to scream as if death was asking me to come back. Calling for me to return home only to know it wasn't yet my time. The way my body was so gently brushed back onto the smooth warm sand, as if nothing had happened left me questioning the entire experience. The only evidence proving that it had happened was my body being completely drenched in ocean water and sand as I coughed up see water from my lungs. The fear and the adrenaline leaving me in a state of shock as I stood in the shower fully clothed bathing myself free of the sea and sand. I've lived my life knowing the shadow of death looms closely, cascading over my entire existence. It took time but I found comfort in this like a warm blanket draped nicely over my shoulders. They say it’s harder to fear what you know, and death is something I know very well.

I struggled finding acceptance with my gift. One of my gifts is the ability of sight, as my Mema had explained it. She said “much like that owl that helped guide you into this world, you were gifted with her sight. Because half of your soul stayed in the spirit realm, the owl gifted you with her vision so you may see the in-between”. I had always been able to see and talk to spirits. It took me awhile to realize they were spirits. It wasn't until my older sister caught me talking to someone she couldn't see that I realized not everyone around me was in the realm of the living. As time went on and my acceptance and appreciation for my gift grew, I started to realize the full capacity of what I was capable of doing. After the second time I had “officially” died, a random stroke I got in my mid 20s when my heart stopped and I was resuscitated, did I realize my gift of sight wasn't the only ability I had. In that second walk with death, it's as if he opened a door I never knew was locked. He wiped away the cloudiness of my third eye and allowed me to see so much more. Soon after I started having memories of lived experiences. Ones that were impossible for me to have any knowledge or recollection of. Memories of different times, cultures, and lives I had never lived or at least believed I had never lived. Right before Mema passed, I asked her about this. I told her about the in-depth memories and feelings and emotions I could sense. How within those lived experiences I could feel myself existing. She shared a story with me that was told to her as a child. Long ago in our family we had a matriarch that had the ability to walk within times. As it was told to her, this woman of power was able to walk in the past present and future. She was able to relive her lifetimes in the present and was able to prophesize what was to come. Mema said I had the “timewalk”, a rare and beautiful gift that only the most tortured souls were able to use. Mema always had a way of making traumatic experiences seem like something that should be held in gratitude. I appreciated that about her. Her approach to hard living helped me understand, life isn't done to you; it's done for you and how you react as what defines your experience.

Living in this day and age with what some would consider gifts and others may see as schizophrenia, I find life to be a never-ending roller coaster. Existing in spaces where seeing the unseen is something that can either be appreciated or feared. Where my interpretation of the world can be interpreted as a miracle or can be demonized and damning, is perplexing to say the least. Luckily, I'm a woman who loves a challenge with a good sense of humor and am never willing to back down. Sitting in my truth and appreciating it for the miraculous life and lives I experience is something I continuously look forward to every day. My anticipation of the future and what it holds as well as my lived lives and what I am capable of learning from them brings me joy in the potential of it all. Who knows what's to come? Oh that's right, I do!