The reflection in the mirror couldn’t be real. There was no way. Yet the golden smoke filtering from the top of my head continued to flow out and to the side of my body. It seemed like dust settling into the shape of a man. I felt my eyes bulge bigger and bigger as the smoke settled more and more. This man was from ancient times. I could see the dust settling on the face of a stern looking indigenous leader staring right at me! I gasped in disbelief immediately turning to look at the ancient being next to me but of course he was gone quicker than he had appeared.
Now I’m going to take you back further than I can even remember. Back to the summer of 1989. I was just over a year old and spending some time with my grandparents. My grandmother was bouncing me on her knee and doing her affectionate baby talk to make me smile. My grandmother was a zealous, strong, independent, wise, and ambitious figure in my family. She was hilarious yet made you feel safe and to non family members, she could easily make you feel like you were at home. No one knew it at the time, but she was receiving downloads of my future during our baby gibberish conversation. She smiled and held me up, “You’re gonna be a pastor aren’t you, baby?” We exchanged looks unique to our bond (and did so for the rest of her life after that) and this was satisfying to her. “Yeah, you’re gonna be a pastor.”
My dad watched this conversation very confused as to how this was supposed to happen. He wasn’t attending church and my mother would not step foot in one. This moment was not shared with me until I was in my late 20’s. Even then it still hadn’t made sense to me. I was leading a Bible study while serving time in jail but I did not see myself as a pastor. Much of my adult life was spent raising hell and finding creative ways to bend or break the rules. I was under a tight leash growing up, so as soon as I was old enough to speak my mind I made sure everyone heard my truth. If you didn’t hear me, that meant you didn’t see me either. I started my “drug” journey at 13 along with drinking. Marijuana isn’t quite like a drug to me but of course at that age it wasn’t used medicinally. I caught on quickly to the streets, yet I still held a rebellious standpoint for that side as well. I refused to portray my character as unintelligent. I vowed that I stood for myself and my family, not a gang or any kind of politics. I read a lot, loved a challenge but I knew school wasn’t for me at the time. Growing up I aced every report card to the point I felt unchallenged and the rewards for good grades felt mediocre. So my rebellious nature only pushed my thirst for knowledge to hip hop and drugs. Selling drugs involved different behaviors, tactics, and rules. Hip hop was a break from the shady drug scene and I loved being the first to find the hot new underground artist.
I had an angry side that typically resulted in violence if it got far enough. If alcohol was involved then violence was definitely on the agenda if anyone wanted to slight me. I was the life of the party otherwise but my 0-100 temperament was risky. My relationships were just as toxic. I vowed never to have kids, my independence and childhood spent raising children were the ultimate deterrent. Instead I raised man-children as a young adult. I spent significant time trying to love men that were incapable of love because we both had the wrong idea of what that was. My search continued for something fulfilling yet unorthodox. The streets were never going to cut it, I knew that from the beginning. The idea of going straight was laughable. Whenever I tried it, I did great at first but of course it got boring. I needed to shake things up with drinking and burning bridges. Deep down, I knew balancing the two sides was not possible. Life for me was weeks or months of structure then days or a couple weeks of running the streets. My drinking schedule consisted of such.
My family was so patient with me yet frustrated whenever I disappeared and reappeared like a magician. To this day I have no idea where they found the strength to put up with all the back and forth, fighting, and being in and out of jail. I still kept my character and values throughout all of my misadventures. Loyalty was huge for me because I learned that was one of those traits that everyone claimed to value but rarely followed. Family and traditional knowledge from my grandparents stuck with me. I understood the importance of knowing my culture and meeting many family members. Honesty is another one of those rare traits that I stuck to. I actually can’t help that one, I love the truth and can’t stand a liar. But the way I went about it was by being blunt, speaking up harshly when no one else would say it. My grandparents were hardcore Christians and expected us all to attend church whenever we lived or visited there. I can sense you probably know where I’m going with this… When I’m being forced to do something, naturally I’m going to rebel or find some way to bend the many, many rules. What was the deal with those rules anyway? Was I really going to hell if I danced or had a beer?
Let’s fast forward to seeing ancestor in the mirror now. At the time only two people knew I was able to see auras and now, spirits, if I stared long enough in the mirror. It made them uncomfortable and I don’t blame them. If I knew of someone doing that in my bathroom I think my old, angry side would have made a move. Native American people are raised to know about spirits. Risks like that can ruin your life if you don’t know what you’re doing or who you’re talking to. This is what caused my hesitation when I noticed the “golden smoke” emulating from my head. This was an energy cord. And this energy cord has always been there, my mind finally allowed me to see it. Or did I allow my mind? And why is this man staring right in my face? Why does he look Apache? I’m not Apache. I had questions that I blurted out then immediately apologized in case I disrespected this entity. Maybe I should let this go for now. The Universe kept telling me to be comfortable not knowing all the answers. Those types of messages only frustrated me but today, I’ll listen. I had a feeling I didn’t want to know the answer just yet.
About the Creator
High Priestess. Alchemist. Catalyst. I almost wish I chose these titles and decided that this was the life I’m going to carry out. I suppose in a way, I did. My creative, rebellious spiritual journey is either taken as inspiring or daunting