I live a life that exists between two worlds. The world we all perceive together and the world many of us don’t seem to perceive at all.

I am guided and loved upon by SO MANY entities that it’s a lot easier to come back to center these days. I see how they’ve always been with me, always watched over me, and I assume it’s the same for all of us. But maybe it’s not.

I don’t consider myself any more “tapped in” than anyone else could choose to be, but I am also aware that we all have our paths to walk. For some of us, maybe all the “unseen” isn’t as necessary for where we’re going and what we’re here to do. I don’t know.

What I *do* know is that I feel restless. I feel ready to leave this place. I want to say I hate it here, but that’s not entirely accurate. It’s more accurate to say that this is the first place I’ve lived and known and literally felt the effects of how pervasive evil is and how intentional evil is and how dense and palpable evil is. Not my first taste of evil, but definitely my first immersion experience in evil.

I just don’t like it here. I don’t feel comfortable. I don’t like feeling all this icky energy consistently. I don’t like constantly having to be on my toes, energetically speaking.

This morning, as I lay in bed pondering my ability to leave this penal colony (that’s how I think of the place I live), I looked to my ancestors. They are always in my mind’s eye. I can see them as clearly as I could see you if you were standing in front of me. And, I was greeted with a wolf snarling and snapping in my mind’s face.

Yay. The ancestors aren’t happy with me leaving.

Instead of looking away, again, I just kept watching. I’d never noticed a wolf amongst the spiritual entourage that accompanies me everywhere in life. I come from the Bear Clan, the oldest clan among the Cherokee. (It was basically disbanded and renamed during relocation and concentrated assimilation times.) I come from the Turtle Clan (still not sure which people this is, except it’s either Cherokee or Comanche). Most of the ancestors that walk with me daily look Indigenous to North America. This is likely why I’ve always felt more Cherokee than African.

Once he stopped snapping at me in anger, he became a person in a wolf’s coat. We looked at one another. I felt the medicine, the message.

“You are safe here.”

This is what my ancestors keep telling me. They called me here. Why? I’m still unsure. But they always want me to know I’m safe.

That’s good, b/c this place doesn’t *feel* safe. Wado! Asante sana! Reminders are always welcome.

“You are safe here.”

I confirm. Everyone nods. Everyone smiles. I am safe. This place is not a safe place, but I am safe. So maybe this place actually *is* a safe place.

Wolf medicine comes to me in waves. Between Wolf and Bear, I am constantly fed in my spirit. We all are truly living in our spirits, but so many of us have forgotten.

The old ways are not lost, they are laid down. Pick them up. Regain your right sight. Regain your wisdom.

You are safe.

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