I think the most important piece I got from a friend is what they said when I asked them “what if I don’t want the gifts that I’ve been given.” My friend said, “then they’ll be given to someone who wants them, and their responsibility.”

A little background: I’m what Western culture calls “schizophrenic.” I say it like that because in many parts of the world, people who have undergone a psychotic break, like those who hear bodiless voices like me, are called a lot of other things like shamanic for instance, and they are the keeper of tribal traditions in their communities. Here in America, to most people, I’m crazy and just weird on a good day. Which is cool, not a problem.

So back to my story. In the fall 2013 through Spring 2015, I experienced things that would seem impossible to most people, and I’ll share the details in a later post. I was even catatonic for about a year of that time, more or less. However, what I had always realized and now accept as factual is to me it was my spiritual journey to awakening, a rebirth of sorts.

Don’t get me wrong, I thank God for my medication because although I was here physically, I missed a good portion of my nieces’ toddler and prekindergarten years, and the medicine is what brought me back to them. Besides, I’m in too deep to stop taking medication because I fear the possibility of my psychosis coming back with a vengeance.

That said, many of the things I experienced cannot be understood by science. I knew things. Things that hadn’t happened but would later and things that had happened. I still do. Some people call this clairvoyance and claircognizance , but what I’ve come to understand is the power of your ancestors and spiritual guides.

Warning: Total Sixth Sense moment. I saw dead people too. While I could handle the psychic part, the medium stuff and all that entails threw me through a fucking loop to say the least, and I rejected it for a while. I’m good now.

So I practice my craft and call it mediumship or psychic or African Spiritualism or whatever is palatable to whomever I’m talking to at the moment. I guess you could say I’m still in the “Broom Closet.” Still, I’ve learned this stuff never gets old. I’m forever learning.

Until then.

Peace after Revolution and best regards,
Sydney

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