September 10, 2022
There has been something genuinely beautiful happening to me over the last week since my latest dream and acknowledgement of my brothers presence. Also meeting the woman again who “just can’t wrap her around the possibility my father is Che Guevara” came into the store where I work yesterday. She seemed to actually be getting mad at me as she continued to repeat what began to feel like an accusation against my character and the road I have travelled. This is without any knowledge whatsoever of my story, I might add. Yes have your doubts, I certainly had mine, but read my story before you pass judgement is all I ask.
The very cool thing which has happened since she walked into the store was realizing what she was saying or more importantly how she was saying it, did not bother me the way it would have, even a week ago. This is why this morning, I am able to connect my inner change with my dreams of late. At the time of the last dream, I did claim to feel some internal shift happening, now there is understanding of how much and why. As the shaman said, I must be very sure my story can withstand the pressure of the many questions (from reporters) which will be asked of me when the time comes to share it.
Last night, I actually found her reaction a bit funny, the defensiveness, the anger, the disbelief she shared was very much over the top and unnecessary. This morning the thought which dominated in my mind was the very simple and beautiful solution to hers or anyones disbelief. Prove me wrong! For over 20 years now I have been attempting to prove this story is untrue, because yes it absolutely sounds crazy.
Is it that she feels I suddenly woke up one morning and decided to create my father out of nothing, share this story without any thought of how it might sound or what it could do to me? This was how it seemed actually, so I must point out how crazy her thoughts are if this is the way her mind works. I’m just guessing of course, but it does stand to reason she must see this claim as a whim, when it couldn’t be further from the truth. Those months which turned into years, while living in our vehicle, searching for anyone who could help me understand, became an extremely difficult journey. It meant sacrificing all that was important to me, the feeling of loss a heavy burden, especially with the gain at the time, seeming to be so little from such a huge sacrifice. Time and time again each spiritual person met strongly advised against me continuing with my search. I was told many times to give it up, it was too dangerous. I’ve lost track of how many times I did try to let it all go, done with the disappointments, heartache and feeling the answers slipping away with every hopeful connection. There has been nothing easy about this journey, my desire to quit enters my thoughts several times a week. It has been for the most part, a very lonely journey, so what keeps me going? Remembering my fathers smile, the feel of his whiskers as they brush against my cheek, my tiny toes clinging to his boots, running into his arms. All the memories I have of him play in my mind like a small video clip whenever I begin to doubt. They come without any effort on my part, they are just there, like any other memory from my past. It has been far from easy to write my story, read each page again and again as I edit, then share with the hope it will reach someone who can verify it. No one knows better than me just how precarious the ledge I’m standing on is, or what it will mean if I were to fail.
With this in mind, what also occurred to me this morning was why I have been having to continually re-write my book for one reason or another. Although I have said it before, this morning it actually has penetrated deeper into my consciousness. This allows me to realize with each review and edit, I am forced to remember what happened. By this I mean, it has been very easy to push it all into the back corner where it can gather dust and cobwebs while struggling just to survive. Life here has no reminders of what was felt in Ecuador. In this world, so far from my birth place there is not the comfort from the ease of living where I felt home. Each time I retrace my past through the stories though, it becomes very much impossible to sweep it all under the carpet. I am reminded in a sensory way, how my life was in South America, an emotional recollection of what I was forced out of necessity to let go of once again.
Believe the story, who I am, or not, it really doesn’t matter because either way the journey and why it began still makes for an interesting read. This morning there is certainty, it makes no difference if you believe me. I have reached that place in my heart which allows me to accept I am very much alone with this story as I continue to look for anyone who can prove it right or wrong. So join me in doing so, we shall see if any of us can…….
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