Every time you think of your pain, it’s a memory of a memory.

I got angry at my ancestors today.I demanded answers.

Immediately I felt like I’m not supposed to know. At least not yet. I’m too furious to receive any more details.

I have to live in the not-knowing as a condition of being human; to allow it as it unfolds.

Pieces of memories, clues and visions, taking their real time to unfold, 20 year +.

Fragments of a reality I didn’t build. At least not the foundations of it.

I still refuse to believe that I chose the path beyond my nightmares. You may think that I might be just replaying my trauma, you could be right. But if you are lucky enough to never had to look at evil right in the eye, then allow me to continue. I have been reborn a few times but never like this time. Surely I wouldn’t have “manifested” some of the horrors of the past but ok I will allow this sadistic game of energies called life.

The path chose me.

Our caretakers build the prison and we spend our lives getting glimpses of the sun, sometimes not even knowing we, one day, can break free from the courtyard. Even worse, some of us die without realising we have anything to break free from. And the power that we do have to shed the mental prison built from thousands of people in our lineages, plus the environment each of us is inserted in. I will even dare to say that this is part of our individual missions: To break generational curses by changing behavioural patterns found in the history of the family – and allowing the dignity that comes from it, to ripple through society.

We write for our future daughters, the potions, the rituals, the hexes, the protection spells and the fucked up situation of everything. We leave behind real history. This is what I’m doing here. Writing for posterity as an excuse to get some of this story out of me, since the other option is to let it vanish under a few rugs.

You come into this world facing one of your only original fears which is the fear of falling. You fall from heavens, through vaginas and into the hands of whoever is assigned to you. You have no memory of any of it, so very high on god’s ketamine.  But not as high as God himself when he conceived ‘existence’. In this colourful kip we call home, nobody prepares you, just fears and fears keep getting added on.

I often think of what my dad would say to me now, while I colour code the skeletons in the closet. But today I had to think of my grandad. Because from his story I learned the meaning of mercy. i don’t want the acts of others poisoning the love that miraculously still pumps my heart. For one who let love die in their heart already lives a living hell. ‘This is a story of love and glory’ like grandad would say. In my imagination my dad would give me good advice. But I wonder, were he alive, would he have anything worthwhile to teach me now? He was too bold for this bland world. I take the good and the bad lessons. He hated the system with a passion. What I learned upon his mysterious death is that: Silence says a lot. And I’m sure he learned a lot too, while sitting in that car realising that the people who were there to shoot him from the back, were people of his trust, he definitely learned about betrayal. I learned about cowardice. It’s fucked up but the killer is almost always at the funeral – take my true account as a metaphor if it’s too far removed from your reality – the killer is almost always at the funeral would be like ‘watch your back who you hang out with’, or ‘the devil is breathing on you in the form of a mutual’.

I joined the hamster wheel too early. I never spun it properly but I learned about surviving and then about thriving. I learned to never trust the police. And to not trust anyone blindly, for people will do crazy things under pressure. It is impossible to really know what someone is capable of, given the right set of circumstances. Would life have beat him down by now? Would he have lost his spark? I try to remember his voice. I have so many good memories of him but none of them give me the answers I search for now. So this thing I wrote to myself, they are words that I never got to hear. If nobody told you this, then allow me to make something productive out of my harshest process yet: there will be a time where you will have no choice but to rebirth yourself, in solitude. It’s gonna happen painfully slowly and then fast. You will see bits of your life surface in your mind, you will have visions of moments you never saw before, you will pierce through the lies you were told and the ones you told yourself. It will feel like death. You will question your mind through the whole process of acceptance. Because it is death. It is your suppressed young self screaming to come to the forefront holding the sword of truth. Demanding to remove the heavy cloak of injustice. You’re gonna have to rawdog through this shit, look into every part of your soul that was neglected or felt shame that now craves for protection. You will have to emotionally detach for this, at the same time that you must feel every emotion.Its is your mind expanding your knowledge of the past and integrating into present-future.Like if a mirror could reflect back the harshest truths onto your face.Take it real slow and gentle with it. Take notice and let it dissolve. It only wants to be seen, to be acknowledged. It is all energies.

You will be grateful for having so many tears to lubricate the cosmic information you will receive. Cry my dear bitch, cry. Your tears taste just like the sea. Be thankful for each purge. Trust your intuition above any presumed evidence. you will transform anything with love and mercy.

I would love to tell you more about it but I haven’t gotten to the other end of it yet. You will know when is time for faith and when is time for battle. You go to battle singing and dancing. You will know when to surrender and when to leap.

So Take your portion of the food without apologies, nothing more than what you can eat. Greed is the ugliest human trait. True Wealth is defined by how much you share with your community. What is the point in getting to the top dragging with you only dead bodies?

Your biggest source of pain is your biggest source of power.

Keep your heart open no matter how fetid out there, that takes a loooot of heart, but you can do it.

Because even on your worst days, you are the type of adult who would have stood up for you as a child. You’re right on time for it.