I’ve mentioned that I hold somewhat different than the norm beliefs.
Most of this stems from curiosity and my inability to just accept something because it’s told to me. I also think that a large part of it is that I’ve always know I’m different. I’m a firm believer that we have a sixth sense. Call it intuition, gut, mother’s instinct, juju, or whatever, I know it’s real. If you’re not feeling it, you’ve blocked it.
We all experience it differently. I happen to think that women are a little more in tune, but that’s just my opinion. I don’t know why that is, and really, who wants to debate it? Either you open yourself up to listen to your sense or you block it from disbelief.
Before I got to meet my father’s family, I was unaware of much of my heritage. I knew my mother was part Native American and part Irish but since she shunned much of her family, I didn’t get to know my roots. When I met my father’s family, I was suddenly surrounded with Catholic Natives. (A contradiction if I’ve ever heard one.)
My grandmother would tell me things, and I quickly learned to not question her. As my cousin and I were heading out the door, a suggestion to take a different route. Had we not listened, we may have been included in the pile-up that happened on our regular route. Grandma always knows when we’re not being entirely truthful and she always knows just when to call. A few of my aunties also have this knowing.
I think I knew things all along but because I had no validation, no one I could speak to about these weird coincidences, I had no way of knowing what it all meant. When I met my father’s family, it was like a dam broke. Suddenly, all these gut feelings were more. Certainly, as I grew older, I was better able to understand these feelings. It also meant I was more aware.
Do something right, you’ll keep doing it, yes? Each time a feeling bore fruit, I was that much more apt to listen to the next one. And the more open I was, the more feelings came through.
The majority of my feelings, or the most intense of them, have always come via dreams. Unfortunately, dreaming can be vague and leave a lot of room for interpretation. I once dreamt that a friend from high school was pregnant by a guy she hadn’t dated since we were in high school. She and I hadn’t spoke in a number of months, but I called her the next morning. She had just taken the pregnancy test the day before. Only she and the father knew about the baby. And the father? Her high school boyfriend. They had been secretly seeing each other again but no one knew.
After my adopted brother moved back to his parent’s house, I dreamt he was in a car accident, and lost to us. I called him in tears, the next morning, begging him to be careful. I described all I could remember from the dream. He wasn’t in any accidents, and over time, I forgot about the erroneous vision.
It wasn’t until months later, after nearly losing our close relationship over his dating someone I didn’t like that the dream came back to me. Taken in a vague way, the details of the dream made sense. The car from the dream matched one driven by friends of his girlfriend. They were all a part of a crowd that was very negative. I felt they dragged him down and kept him from being able to pursue his dreams. In my mind’s eye, they were wrecking his life and taking him away from us.
Unfortunately, not getting something right is cause for people to discount you. It also means I doubt myself. Other things also impact my ability to see. Stress and sickness wear your body and mind down. If you’re tired, your mind automatically blocks new information from coming in, in an attempt to guard. Think about it, when was the last time you tried to learn something while dog-ass tired or worn down? Did the information stick?
Because I’ve been sick much of this year, and under a great deal of stress for the last two years, my dreams, my visions have been very few. When my mind’s eye isn’t very active, it opens lines for me to begin doubting myself once again. Fortunately, it is at my deepest moments of doubt that my mind decides to remind me of what I can do, and the doubt recedes.
Certainly there have been times I haven’t listened to a feeling. Always to my detriment. I’ve had strong feelings always right before a loss. And I’ve ignored them, not wanting to acknowledge that I may lose someone. The night my brother took his life, I hesitated on my way to bed, wanting to check on him. Given that we were more friends than siblings, there should have been no reason I had a sudden desire to invade his privacy that night. I ignored my gut and went to bed. The next morning, I found that he had hung himself. The medical examiner placed his time of death within the hour of my going to bed.
As I’ve gotten older, I like to think that I’ve learned to just listen and not second guess these feelings. There’s a large part of me that would like to share this with others. If more of us listened to what’s inside, how much hurt could be averted? Unfortunately, I’m unsure how to share what I know. There’s so much skepticism in today’s society. If I can’t see it, it must not exist. Those that do rely on faith, are set in organized religion and unwilling to see that you can believe in God and still trust those butterflies in your tummy when something just doesn’t feel right. It’s my opinion that organized religion has done a good job of isolating themselves as the only thing in which to have faith.
Faith is quite simply believing in something without having to see or touch it.
So I ask you, my readers, do you have faith?