Friday, July 20, 2007

Using My Voice

"I don't remember them or I never try to remember them."

That was a statement I made about ten years ago or so.

Friends would often give me vivid details of their dreams and then ask me to dissect them. Some seemed significant--like the Spirit speaking and sending the mind on a necessary journey--others, like the brain just needed to fart.

Over time, as I've opened more to the mystical Goddess in me and more to the spiritual realm, I've seen and felt a bit more.

Back story:

At the age of about thirteen, a young Miss Nikki Ann was hiding under her covers, having another restless night over the recent death of her aunt whom she saw and touched in the casket. Miss Nikki Ann felt someone tapping on her foot. She was afraid to look up, but decided that if it was her aunt that she would never do her any harm. Miss Nikki Ann finally found the courage and came from up under the covers. What she saw stuck with her for life, the back of some ethereal being's white wispy robe exiting her bedroom. Miss Nikki Ann told her mom, who then told her to pray to God and ask that he tell her aunt that she loves her but doesn't want her to visit her anymore.

About a year later, Miss Nikki Ann was on the phone with a best friend discussing spiritual & religious matter. Miss Nikki Ann said:

"Don't you feel different? I feel special."

And I wasn't talking about the kind of special that means different and more important than others. I was talking about feeling Spirit and having some weird and inexplicable desire to follow its desires for me.

At the time I never knew just how profound that was and where it'd lead me. But at the young age of fourteen, I did begin to use that special ability more consciously, in more and more mystical ways to solve daily issues.

About six years ago, when I was really a practicing priestess, so to speak, I had a visit in my sleep (cause some things aren't dreams, they're truly visits from other spirits needing to talk with you). They seemed like little water sprites (i'm not sure if that's what they were, but it's what they looked like). They looked as if they were made up of water, they glistened and were hard to keep my eyes on, but I could clearly see their eyes and mouths. But they didn't speak to me. They seemed to be working on my body, with a great intensity. An intensity so great that upon awakening, I felt pain everywhere from their touches. And just to get their point across, they made sure that the pain lasted for days so that I wouldn't doubt their work on me--like some doubt the works of past mystical workers (like Jesus). From that day on I knew. What did I know? Only what those who are willing to open up to the experience know. Trust me, you'll know if you know it. And it's not some select club, it's for anyone willing to take the ride.

Which leads me to this...

Last night my spirit put me through a story. It went like this:

I'm at a department store. Lots of girls are there. Girls I know. I got there after coming back from another mini journey my spirit was on that entailed my brother and computer technology. But I digress. At the store every one's trying on clothes. Soon I see lots of interesting characters--hustlers, bootleggers, and that kinda sort.

Then the scene changes to what appears to be a huge church at the back of the store. I hear of some strange goings on. A woman snatches me into a bathroom and gives me two sharp knives, which I slip under each sleeve;I can still sense the pain of the sharp ends piercing my fingers as they slide out. I am told that I am supposed to get past security with the knives, and that if I do so, I will be compensated and inducted into this group of hustlers. I see Tasha Smasha (hey Tasha) and she's obviously attempting to do the job too. I get past security. Then begin a dialogue with spirit.

I said, "I don't want to enter that church with these knives. It doesn't feel right. And I don't care about the money."

Spirit said, "Drop the knives. If you know me the way you say you do, you know that everything is already taken care of. Trust in me."

I dropped the knives into some high grass and ran into the church. There were two entrances into the sanctuary. I passed the first one, lot of my old church family members were standing there. I peered through the door of the second entrance--noting how safe it'd be to go that way, not having to speak to anyone, just slipping into a back pew.

But spirit spoke, "As usual, you're trying to take the easy way out. Listen to the singing. Listen and go to them."

So I headed back to the first entrance where my old church members were. And all of a sudden spirit overcame me. I began singing a Kelly Price spiritual with the group.

Spirit said, "No! Open your mouth, child, and sing! You lead the song! Sing!"

So I took the lead, singing, "You shall always be Lord of all..."

And I mean, I sang that song. I sang that song until I cried a low growl of a cry. I sang that song until everyone around me was moved to the upper levels of heaven in their hearts and ego-based minds.

"I love you Lord because you heard my cry and pitied every groan... You shall always be Lord of all..."

I sang and sang until I awoke from the story. My eyes opened and I felt actual human tears forming. I replayed that song over and over in my head, wanting so much in the wee hours to lift my hands up and sway and rock myself.

"Because you heard my cry and pitied every groan... Lord of all..."

And then, with my eyes wide open, Spirit spoke, saying, "It's time--"

And I already knew what Spirit was going to say, so I said, "It's time to open my mouth an use my voice."

"Yes," Spirit said. "O', how you've avoided it. But it's time."

You shall always be Lord of all.

"Thank you for hearing my human cry and giving me the time to accept what is so that has always been so and what will always be so whether I accept or agree or not."


Nikki Ann

A memory: Tasha Smasha, do you remember the day, back at Tuskegee University, when you had a financial worry? And I told you to put those worries aside and spend that last ten dollars anyway. And I promised you that if my instructions failed you that I, myself, would refund you that money. And I never had to do so. It seemed that everything, after all, was okay...