In a Nutshell: My Spiritual Journey

My life history is.... Unique.... My mother was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia before I was born. My father, a Vietnam vet seduced her and, POP!, there I was living in a shack in northern New Mexico. Not long after my birth, my father abandoned us, and my mother had to carry me 5 miles to the nearest highway in late fall to hitchhike back to Grandma in Los Alamos. We moved into an apartment in Albuquerque, while she tried to goto school and hold down a job. But is was no more than a year before is became clear that she was not capable of caring for me. So, off to live at Grandma's house I went. My Grandma was raised Lutheran. However, lost the desire to attend church several years prior. Because her life choices were limited by religion, she thought it would be best that I wait to be baptized by whomever ended up adopting me.

I remember having my first thoughts about spirituality around age 5. I have vivid dreams, you see. Some would say that I am an astral plane walker. And I started having dreams about my purpose in this life. Many "questions" people have, I just felt like I "knew". I knew I had done this all before (Reincarnation), many times before. So many times that I was more "in control" of my "spirit" than most anyone else. I had this "universe view", as if I were a powerful Guardian Angel sent to help the people. But, I realized it would not be clear cut and was somewhat frustrating. Because Evil & Death also serves its purpose and is beautiful in its own way. So, I let the topic melt away for a while.

Because my father continued to be a manipulative nut, it took until my 9th birthday for Grandma to have guardianship. But we were already considering whom I would goto beforehand. So, soon after that final trial, I decided to live with my Aunt, Uncle and Cousin in my father's side.

Unfortunately, things did not turn out well with them. I was so desperate to be loved and accepted and was so afraid of being abandoned, that I blamed myself when she would tell at me or when my cousin would touch me. I accepted that she thought I was a Rogue when they found out he was sneaking into my bedroom at night. I cried a lot. I cried when they laughed when I had night terrors and sleep walked. I cried when she tossed me in the shower to wake me up. I cried when she hated me and found someone else's daughter to spend time with. I read a lot of books and spent as much time as I could at school or with my head in my computer. Then, at 16, after my cousin had a shotgun wedding and the new wife moved in and he went to boot camp, I left.

Around that time, I had started exploring what other people thought about spirituality, again. Some of my friends were Wiccan, some Christian.

Once, I went to an "accept God into your heart" ceremony at a non denominational church. That was the first time anything anyone else believed made any sense. When I approached the steps, and closed my eyes, it was as if the Universe was watching the humans, like it was some sort of comedy. "Look! They think we are gonna "save" them. Hahaha! Awww... Don't they realize they have the spiritual power within themselves? That they created their Jesus?"

And all I could do was smile and shuffle back to my seat.

Similarly, the Wiccans, were often simply "finger pointers", throwing pretend lasers of power in random directions.

Many years have passed since those formative ones. But, I always come back around to the same thing. We are electric squishy beings in a Universe full of awe and wonder. We are creative and destructive, a perfect reflection of the star stuff we are made of. If only we could find a way to accept each other for our kaleidoscope of differences, for just one moment, just to breathe. Maybe is wouldn't seem so scary after all.