2016 Koolina Sunset

The Beginning

It’s been years since I’ve kept anything that’s like a journal. I used to blog — if you remember. But always inconsistently — and usually, only when something big or bad was happening. I’ve never been good at reliably updating something, unless I was getting paid to do it.

This is what makes me a good employee, but maybe not the best entrepreneur. My t-shirt business, Mfn Top, suffers from my meh-ness in life. I can barely update my Facebook page, let alone be expected to keep up with inventory and what not.

But I am hoping this will be different. Because while I may not be getting paid to upkeep this “journal”, there is something important here — more than just chronicling miscellaneous tidbits of my life that I want to share with others. No. I am here to write because there is something that I need to share with myself. And I don’t know any other way to do this.

The Beginning

I have so many stories in my head. I was always an imaginative child, so some of the stories in my head might just be that — things I’ve made up. And others… well, others are real. I am at the point where some of the stories that may have been made up at one point have become real to me, and vice versa. And so, as I write this, I want you to know that this is my reality as I know it.

And so when I say my mommy is magic, I want you to know that in my reality, this is real. My mother. Is. Magic. I don’t really know what kind or why. But she always has been. She has the ability to out-chant Buddhist monks and communicate with the dead and allow powerful beings to speak through her. She can influence happenings and has an intuition that is often extremely spot on.

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My sister, me, Mommy at Wat Dhammavihara Hawaii, Theravada Buddhist Meditation Center

And I am her daughter. And so, I am also magic.

What does that mean?

Well, I was told that before my mother had me, she’d be pregnant many times before. And many times before, she’d been forced to have abortion. And when I was conceived, Buddha came to her in a dream and told her to keep me. That she must keep me. And she did. And I feel like this is important — because why would the dream have pushed to ensure she kept me if not for some kind of special reason?

And when I was little, I used to speak to the spiritual statues my mother kept on her altar. Not just like, baby talk, but full blown conversations in Thai — the kind of Thai that is spoken by monks in the temple — the kind of Thai that I shouldn’t know.

And when I was young, I could see spirits, or ghosts, or whatever label you want to give those that live in the other worlds that exist alongside ours. Sometimes I played with them, not knowing the difference between these entities and my-world children. But more often, I was scared of them. Scared of silence, because this is when they would speak to me. Scared of the darkness, because this is when I could see them clearest.

And so, I tried my best to stop seeing. Stop hearing. And most of the time, I was successful. I had managed to more or less close out that world, ignore my gut, ignore the voices, and pretend that I was “normal.” Actually, I won’t lie. There’s no pretending I was ever normal. I had a childhood that was fraught with emotional torment for being too fat or too smart or too whatever — and I still battle the demons given to me on the playgrounds of my youth. But at least in terms of the spiritual stuff, aside from pretty much being the only non-Christian I knew, I didn’t stick out like a sore thumb.

This didn’t mean I didn’t still experience the “paranormal.” It just means that it became unpredictable when I did. And that I didn’t share that part of myself with very many, because I didn’t share it with myself.

 

Originally written June 10, 2017

2 thoughts on “The Beginning

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