SMC 1.1 10-07-22 Chapter 1 (3775)

Victoria {Preparing for departure outside Huancayo, Peru, 5:53 am Day 10}

I was pinned down by the cold that lay in wait above my cozy layer of wool blankets. Commander lay sleeping at my feet; I felt his warm wispy breath on my toes. We were satisfied in our living space, ignoring the dangers that remained nameless, longing for peace. 

Our space was simple, nothing fancy. While my room was one of the better in Uranmarca, there were no modern amenities including electricity and heat. These luxuries mattered little to me and seemed out-of-place in the Sierra. But there is another thing that is more important to me, something I truly and desperately seek. And this character flaw is my weakness. I work on being more grateful everyday. 

My perception of lack is related to my isolation, a consequence of a lifetime of living on the run. I am hardened to fear and the cold. As a young girl, I often had no shoes or warm clothes. Consequently, I feel at home in the dark. The dark is a place of comfort and sanctuary. But I still long for the warmth of a strong connection to people. Living in solitude and darkness was my path. However, connection provides purpose and relevance. 

Earlier this morning, I was happily awakened by my lover. When he parted, I drifted back to sleep until I spontaneously flung out my arms and sat upright. I see it in my head like I am watching a movie, which is impossible for me to do. Anyway, I can see things in my head after they happen. I am blind so I don’t expect to see things right away but if I want to see things as they happen, I can use other’s eyes. 

Continuing with my vision, I see the blankets peeling off as I grunted and stretched my body. Ever vigilant Commander got up and licked my face. After giving him a strong hug and moving his head to the side, I took a deep breath of air. I felt a tinge of warmth on my face. Even now as I remember I felt the sunlight. The sunrise was coming soon, and with it, a respite from the bitter cold. Or was it Commander’s breath?  But that moment of relief was not to be realized for long as I was struck by an overwhelming resurgent blast of cold pushing against me. I fell back in surrender onto my thin but forgiving mattress, while quickly pulling a convenient blanket close to me.

I lay sprawled out, waiting for the courage to brave the cold, again. My mind raced uncontrollably, doing the things that minds do. I heard voices from my past cursing me, screaming hateful things into existence. There was no way to obstruct the waves of these mental assaults. Demonic wretched curses punctuated my ears and my heart.

The words lingered like a slow-acting acid. I tried to will the vision of a manufactured memory of my mother to diminish the attack. I don’t remember my mother, never spent much time with her. But when I was about 7 years old, I created my version of her. My imagined smile from my mother helped me through my most fearful times. I often willed her presence and radiance into existence to combat the curse of the dark. But today, her angelic smile was plastic, quickly fading. I was left with ugliness in the dark.

“Your pathetic life will be meaningless, no vibrancy, no color. You will be cursed with blindness.”

I heard the curse over and over. This curse did its damage a long time ago… but I am grateful for it. Keep in mind, the curse did not hurt me. It is true that I find comfort in the dark. Yes, I am blind, but I know how to have color. There are those People of the Pueblo who pity me and consider me to be nothing. They recoil in my presence and mutter contemptible thoughts. Some view me as a beggar and see my deformities. They don’t know me yet despise me. They gossip often saying that I did something to bring evil to my family. I am hated because I am different from them, and that difference makes them uncomfortable. If that were not enough, many want to hurt me more. The want to assault me, rape me, disfigure me, and use me as their slave.

But blindness is my badge. I wear it proudly; it is my best attribute. My badge is bright and shiny gold! I am glad that my adversaries don’t know me or see my golden color. Those who loathe me don’t realize that I have great riches and power because of the color in my eyes. My condition gives me the power to enter and exit anything with spirit, at will. 

Not everyone who is blind is a master. I am a master of spirits. Only masters create color. Becoming a Master is not about lineage or ability. I earned my color and my mastery of spirits! I was not born blind. My power came from my father who sodomized me and beat me until the nerves in my eyes were broken. My mother prayed for me and gave me spiritual armor until she succumbed to his hand. She may be gone but her Spirit is here. And I have received a reward for my faithfulness and gratitude. 

I can choose to destroy my enemies; however, I prefer to use my enemies. I can use their eyes, wear their skin, command every cell, and direct every synapse in their body. I experience and control their sorrows and fears, resentments and disappointments, and their silliness and joy. I can shapeshift to appear in almost any form and adapt to any opposing force. I can duplicate all the associated emotional and behavior profiles.

It is amazing that when I enter into another lifeform or change into another object, color is added to my life. My experiences bring me color and increase my power. I like to say that color is my power, but it provides more control over perspective than reality. Many mornings, I walk to the markets in someone else’s body. Often, I must exit, and body hop because I am saddened by my host’s emotions. I constantly weep as I explore and often destroy. I now understand why Jehovah’s son wept. But this morning, unlike most mornings, I sat on a cold wooden stool and waited in the dark.

I sat in the cold, my blanket draped about me. Commander began nestling her nose between my legs. My good friend Commander was reminding me that I needed to begin my gratitude exercise. Gratitude is a simple way for me to channel my racing mind. Her cold wet prickly nose used to startle me, but I made this sensation a trigger to begin a mental power-building process. Now, I welcome this form of snuggling to settle my mind and help me focus. I began my process: focus on breathing. Slowly, I checked in with my senses around my body. I was in the present and I was connected with my spirit. Then, I heard the men working outside preparing Nativido for our short journey. I relinquished control to my sweet spirit, today I was purposed, and I was learning my present.

Juan, a stocky quiet well-mannered man, my shared partner, was loading the goods we would sell higher up in the Sierra. Julia and I are so blessed to have a lover like Juan. He is known throughout the region as Matador. However, Matador is more than a great lover. He is genuine; he speaks kind truthful words. He is strong and courageous. He is gentle. He carries himself confidently without a trace of arrogance. He is a friend, I trust.

I am so grateful for Commander, Nati, and Matador. I am grateful for Julia. Even though I repeat my gratitude for them each day, I don’t say it enough. The praises are always new to my lips and satisfy my soul with orange and forest green.

As I felt the rise of color and warmth in me, my sweet Spirit spoke to me and revealed a problem that needed my attention. Juan and our daughter were ready to move, but Nati was thinking differently. I started to feel anxious and other voices were appearing. I quieted my mind again to attempt to discover what was going on. My senses quickly heightened. The others were outside doing their part to ensure a timely departure, I needed to step in. We needed to leave early and on time. 

My mind wandered, again. My visioning began. Last night was quiet but the several preceding days were filled with revelry and gentle shameless debauchery. All of us needed time to release our emotions and relax. The last few months have been trying. These thoughts reminded me of the importance to address and encourage my friends and followers, before we started moving, I collected my thoughts and said a private prayer to Jehovah and the Sierra.

“Prepare the way my friend, Spirit of Jehovah. And Julia, share your beautiful eyes with me. And most generous Nuna, great Spirits of Pacha and Mayu, be with me and my friends.”

A light in my eyes became brighter and as my eyes focused, I could see everyone.

“Good morning my friends. I will be leaving for the meeting soon. I will go through the Portal Door and meet face to face with the Ancients. You all know that I decided a long time ago to put aside my fears and dedicate my life to building a world where our predator will submit to the power of its foe. We fight for peace; but for now, we are only the great disruptor. Our work will be completed soon. 

The People of the Pueblo below us don’t always remember their life before because they trust their father is loving despite the reality that their father has enslaved them, removed their clothing, beaten them, and sold them into despair. The People of the Pueblo praise us and support us, they are not grateful. They fear us as they fear their father. Once we finish, we will remain their benefactor, their protector, and their voice. But we will rule with a soft hand that guides and does not break. 

So, stand fast and remain vigilant. When we are attacked, be prepared and do not scatter with your hearts pounding. You are brave warriors, prepare to deliver justice. The People of the Pueblo are helpless deer sipping on the water. We are here fighting for them though they fear us. We will have vengeance soon. I have evaded detection, waiting for all of you to be in place and to be ready. I thank you my friends for your diligence, your hard work, and your courage. We are one in the Spirit. Now my dear Nati, I truly need you today. Oh, my sweet Nativido!”