When I was a little girl, I had this fantasy about stumbling upon a chest of buried treasures underwater, inside a shipwreck. I would imagine an old wooden box tufted with red and purple velvet and bolted tightly with 24k gold screws.
I imagined what it would feel like... the challenge of opening it. Were the keys left inside the lock? Was there a scandal behind it? Would it be a challenge to bust open? The bones of those who had possession of the box left strewn across an ancient chair, a gold cup loosely clasped by bones. A solid gold crown on the ocean floor, still intact.
The vision is held so clearly in my mind. I open the box… completely blinded as the dust poof settles, breath taken by the shine, the glitter… the LIGHT. Sparkles glistening from rays of light through a mask of sea weed. I couldn't have ever imagined this beauty of ancient findings. My little jaw dropping. Littered and laced with 24k gold coins, crowns dipped in rubies, diamonds, and sapphires. Emeralds set in soft gold settings, and in hunks, the size of the palm of my hand. Moonstones with rainbow trails that danced around the wooden shell that was once a robust ship. Opals that came to life with a milky rainbow fire….Layers and layers of ancient heirlooms and loose gems.
As I picked up each piece, my mind would flood with memories- a story would be projected into my mind's eye of the original owners of these jewels. Each piece carried its own story. Where it was given, its creation, its discovery. A flashback history of its legacy- passed down through generations beginning with the lost city of Atlantis . For what healing purpose, for what honor, a love, a celebration. I would feel each soul's emotion. Both the giver and the recipient In a temple, in a ballroom dancing, in a bathroom weeping. I would feel the story, each and every one, - each piece held such an energy with such depth.
Memories of ancient Lumeria, Egypt, and Rome blasting into my awareness, a message with every glimmer each stone projected as the light shattered and entered my vision.
I imagined myself, like a mermaid, draped in jewels. I picked up a 24k handled mirror, and looked at my glittering reflection. I had never felt so beautiful as the mirror showed me all of the faces of the many lives I was experiencing- all at once. So connected to the lives of all of those before me. I would feel this sort of magic - the colors of the stones were tones I couldn't even describe, and still can't.
Those opalescent colors and vibrations would haunt me, tease me, as I would write with my metalitc gel glitter pens… Ah HAH! A pen, with the colors of my magical stones! Ahhh if only I could find that treasure box, and disappear into a faraway land of glitter and sparkling seas. Dancing dolphins, bioluminescent caves, more burried treasure waiting to be discovered….
*The sound of a paper being slammed on my desk, jolting me.
"LOGAN WAKE UP. You got another D. How do you expect to move on if you can't even keep up?" I looked at the paper, red pen, CARELESS MISTAKES written on the top of the front page.
"You keep doing the same thing! You’re switching the numbers and doing the math problem in reverse! When are you going to stop?!” Ms. Palmer, 4th grade teacher, total sweetheart... Not.
The fear, the anxiety would begin to rise in my stomach, I could feel my face getting hot. Were people listening? Did I fall asleep in class again? Shit! Maybe she's right… maybe I am dumb. Maybe I can't move on and will be lost in a world of careless mistakes.
(Adult self) “Hell yeah, you fell asleep Logan. That shit was boring. And math isn't your strong suit; you excel in writing and the arts. Ps. Does she know anything? You're switching the number because you have a minor case of dislexia. You weren't wired to make charts and do long division. Besides, you have technology for that stuff. You don't need to waste your precious time on this planet doing a silly math problem when you can do it with the click of a button.
You should be out doing what you love, swimming with the dolphins, designing cool creations with your box of crystals, smelling the roses for crying out loud. Also, tell mom you don't want milk, that's why your stomach hurts so badly, which is not helping the stress. And that cereal you're eating, it's making your brain foggy. Rice bran my ass, it's still chocked full of sugar and processed wheat and GMOS. That's not food little Logan , that's poison! Meant to keep you asleep...”
After being fed the same message over and over again, I actually started to believe Ms. Palmer. When I would go home after school, I wouldn't even get a reprieve. I knew soon it would get dark outside and Mom would start getting angry at dad. We would sit down for dinner with CNN and Fox news on the TV in the background. Some old dude with the same paranoid look glued to his face talking about terrorism, lies, deceit, scandal.... A red banner scrolling across the screen with endless horrible news stories. TV commercials talking about erictile dysphyction, depression meds with a laundry list of side effects. The next commercial would be for the pill to help with the symptoms of the one before it. Dinner would begin…. then they would start yelling. I would be sent to my room, again. Layers and layers and layers of illusions of lies. How had we gotten so tangled in this web of fear? As a child I knew the world was sick, something it wasn't right - things had to change.
The only taste of freedom I ever felt was when I ventured outside… to ride my banana bike and maybe meet up with my guy pal Tyler who lived in my neighborhood. We would walk out on the dock, skip some rocks… talk about stuff. Dear God If I could have recorded our conversations…. the sweetness. Another place where I felt most free was up in my room, listening to Erykah Badu and Jill Scott. Poetry.
My childhood was very much like groundhog day- another day of the same routine. Me begging Mom and Dad to homeschool me. I couldn’t even eat. An appetite for what? The idea of chewing was repulsive, as I knew my stomach would go into a knot immediately after the first bite. I didn't even want to go on.... My soul was so bruised, so shattered. I felt completely alone in the world, and so sad. But I would still go to school. And I would try. I would try to stay awake, battling a year long bout of mono due to the weakened immune system from the stress. I would try to pretend I liked the math, and the history class where we learned about dates and wars.
But I'm really, really bad at faking things.
It was almost like, throughout my whole education, my mind rejected the information which wasn't relevant for my conscious evolvement. No matter how much Adderall they had me doped up on, how many doses of the chemicals that made me feel so far from human, or how many tutoring sessions they put me through, the numbers, the dates, the battles just wouldn't stick.
Thank God they didn't. Little did I know, I was in self preservation mode. Protecting myself from unnecessary subconscious fear-based programming. And the math - there is nothing wrong with math! I love people who are good at math, everyone excels in one area. If everyone was good at the same thing, what kind of world would we live in? That's the trouble with so many school systems, it's exactly that - a system. A system that they want each student to fit into, vs. strengthen the student's specific interests and areas of heightened activity. (This is something I am majorly passionate about, changing the education system so people are not left behind, or forced into a box that they don't fit into…. we’ll get into this later.)
And why all the war dates? What does any of it have to do with our future and building a better world? Whatever you focus on grows stronger. So why are we so focused on events in history that were A. lies (Native American / pilgrim "story" they teach kids in school) and B. stories of men dying over and over in wars brought on by the ego. Let's learn from our ancestors and move on. Let's clear the karma and focus on building a better world… most of the current education system is mostly that - a "system" designed for failure.
Anyway, I knew this wasn't where I was from. There is no way. I longed for a place called home, which didn't feel anything like this. I was longing for the stars.
So let's get back to the box of jewels. I never forgot about the box. Although I definitely brushed it aside. After being ingrained with the messages that I was not smart enough, not qualified, that I was too this too that, spending too much time on my art projects and failing at everything else…. Too messy “just like my father.” I started to believe all of these things. It's true! What you tell a child, they believe. They are little sponges, vulnerable to your impressions. I started to believe that I, at a young age, was a complete failure. The only person who understood me was my art teacher. He was a funny guy too, Mr. Johnson. I loved his class. When I would get to his class I would feel free, like I could be myself. Express myself through my art. Listen to my music, unwind… When the bell would ring, my heart would drop. What?! It's only been 5 minutes! Now what… history. Blahhh.
I was always downloading information as a child about other kids, their home life, the teachers and what their lives were like. I was always so surprised, like, who gave this deeply wounded human the right to teach children? This adult needs help, before they go out into the world and start teaching other tiny humans how to be and what to think. There were exceptions - there were teachers who were loving. Like my cheerleading coach who was also a teacher. She would teach me skills that were relevant, like discipline and determination…delivering excellence. Motivating people. She and the squad voted me Captain because of my leadership and dedication, not because of abilities of regurgitating war dates and silly bills being passed.
Some of the other kids at school, with uneducated parents, living in low vibrational conditions - I could see the energy of their lives like a grid - stories and connections. I felt very empathetic for their situations too. We all had a story, we all had a struggle.
Life went on, and I got off track. Once again, when you tell children they are bad, dumb, or any negative trait, and they will start to believe it. Don't be surprised when they start acting up, and going down paths you wouldn't “hope” for them. But what do you expect? You haven't given them the tools. The confidence, the love, the encouragement.
But these colors, these gems… They would never escape me. I've skipped a lot of my life in between, but I'll cut to the chase. I feel like my whole life I was searching for this box of magical gems. And after searching, eventually, I found them. I use the treasure chest story as a metaphor. The truth is the real gems are discovered within your own heart and your own mind. Once you discover them, they are yours eternally. They never go away. They are yours to keep, and luckily, they won't hold you down. They are weightless, and they cost $0.
For so many of us, we seek love, approval, and acceptance throughout our lives - taking a shot at different sources in order to make us full. Possessions, status, relationships, appearance, awards, achievements - but eventually, all of the fleeting moments of fulfillment burn out, and we are left back again at square one. We go all around in this crazy maze, seeking and searching, when really there is only one direct path to self love, acceptance, intuition, and ultimately freedom. Yes, all of those things you desire are a part of your destiny, if you believe, think positively, and work towards your goals. They bring lots of joy and excitement to our lives - but they don't “make” our lives. YOU make your life. Your sacred bond with yourself is what allows for these things to bring you joy on this physical plane - but they don't make it. Because you are never attached to those things; you are aware that those things are simply assets to your completeness. There is no one else like you. Don't EVER let anyone tell you otherwise.
We are conditioned to believe we are not enough - and it is our job to undo that conditioning. I encourage you to work towards reprogramming your subconscious mind - to peel off the layers and remove the messages you have been believing. I encourage you to discover your own gems and to stop trying to live up to others ideas and expectation of how you "should" be. YOU only know who you are- and when you let go of fear and the opinion of others you become free. Truly free. And you can fly instead of being so bound to the denseness of the third dimension. Listen to that inner voice.