Just over Here Being a Secret Agent

Writing has always been a release for me. A way to get rid of the fake noise. A way to hear the true language of my heart. Maybe some of the desire to write was born from holding back my words. I know. I can see it in my mind’s eye. Those who are part of my inner circle, families of blood & choice, are sporting sly grins. The kind where a person cocks their head ~ needing the gesture as well to convey the silent thoughts. “Impossible. You, hold back words?” Listen up. Pun indeed intended.

What I’m referring to was the time when I was a wee lad (do they refer to girls as lads in Ireland, hmm?) When I was younger (lets say between the ages of 3-12)… I know that’s a big age span but stick with me. When I was a young girl, I began (or realized) that I was hearing and seeing things that the naked eye could not paint. Mostly after Catholic mass, I had questions for my parents. What was the light around the priest when he spoke? Did you see that man, with the yellow polka dot bowtie, sitting in the way front? He’s sad & lonely. Did you also see that woman in white sitting next to him. She is so pretty. I could hear whispering to him, I love you. My parents could not see or feel anything I was talking about. They didn’t know how to explain or help me understand. I really ruffled their feathers when I proclaimed that a lot of the stuff the priest was reading ~ wasn’t true. Or shall I say, not literal. But I don’t think I knew that word then. That was a big one for a wee lassie. Ah there it is! Lassie. So when my seeking to understand was left void, I silently set out on a mission to figure it out myself. Oh, in this moment so many realizations! Is that why I also was obsessed with wanting to be a CIA agent? I remember riding my bike (a long ways) to the library, for we lived up on the very edge of town. And libraries as you know, sit smack in the middle of cities. So my banana seat bike took me to the place of answers. I can still feel the smooth wooden box I pulled open, time and time again, to find the white card (the locator) for my secret agent books. I was bound to figure it out:

1. why so many people were saying things that weren’t true
2. what is real and what is made up (my first questioning of spirituality)

I thought becoming a secret agent one day would be perfect for me. I was so curious. Alas, or shall I say Alias. That role was reserved for Jennifer Garner. Me…a destined teacher and writer. Yes, let’s get back to writing.

I read like a mad (wild not mad) child. Often taking said books to my closet. Keeping the wooden veneer coated doors slightly open for light; as I tuned into spiritual LIGHT. Wisdom. Knowing. Angels. Ancestors that I had never met in person. Everyone was so chatty when I quieted the outside world. So, I began journaling to make sense of it all. I was in 2nd grade when I first remember getting a journal. The one with a little lock. I kept that key safe, yet if my sister’s really wanted access, it would have been easy. They didn’t need to be a covert agent to figure that out. But no one in the family seemed to care. Their interests lied elsewhere, while mine was satiating words read and heard. Images seen and envisioned. And thus was born, a closet writer.


Now I feel like I am sharing my journals. A peak behind the scenes of how I see the world. Here, there, and everywhere. The words sometimes come out all sassy often laced with lots of spiritual goodness. The sass is so greatly accepted. I love that side of me, because sometimes I can be too much for me. Or what I see and hear and know can be too much is what I mean. Not too much in that I ever want it to stop ~ I love my superpowers. Yet, navigating this world ~ outside of the closet ~ can sometimes be tricky. For there are humans out there. Humans being all weird and believing everything they are told, as it is written. Imagine that?

So I’m over here. Here, there and everywhere. Still curious. Still learning. Still listening. I still love writing.

✨ When I’m not sipping coffee or dancing in the moon light, you’ll find me in a vintage clothing shop. So many wardrobe changes to consider, as an explorer of the truth ~ the LIGHT. ✨