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I don't wear masks.

Hey Mystics, I just realized something interesting. I'm always looking forward. Looking for the next hill to climb or mountain to conquer.

Most places I have been in the past, are left right where I found them.

I tend to "pack lightly" through life. Only taking what my heart needs in the moment. Mostly because I know that not everything you find isn't meant for you to hang onto forever.

I dont often talk about my personal journey. Instead, I talk about learning new things, the new projects I have on the go, and all the cool stuff I wanna share with you... but rarely do I open a window for you to view my past.

Some people may think that I present a mask to you. That perhaps there is something in my life that I dont want you to see. I can assure you that is not the case! I am very much a what you see is what you get kind of person. If you ask me something I will gladly tell you. If there is something I dont know, I will humbely admit it. I dont wear masks because there isn't anything about me that I feel the need to hide from you. In truth, I've seen alot of talk about the hiding people do, how they feel like they have to come clean and show up authentically. I applaud their bravery, but I have to admit, I've never really felt that way. If you meet me at the store or in my home you are meeting the same person that you meet when I'm live on Facebook or you come to me for a reading. I've always shown up as me... warts and all. When I was about 14 I gave myself a mohawk. To be honest it wasn't my best look but I liked it. It felt cool and it freaked people out. When I got a little older I was the first one of the majority of the people I knew to get a tattoo. I used to sword fight in the park whith my friends when I was 17. At 36 I started pole dancing and at 37 I started cosplaying villains and antiheroes. Because it was fun and creative and it made me happy.

Each chapter of my life has brought me lessons, adventures and more opportunities to express more of myself. My ever evolving and changing and maturing self. I've had highs and lows and everything in between. I'm just like you...only really, really me.

I always seek to help and heal. It's my labour of love. My sacred duty. So, while I dont wear a mask I do have many facets, many perspectives and points of view.

With this little realization, I've understood that you might like to know more about my experiences, the places I've been and why I come to you as the person you see now. In other words, I'd like to share with you - a little more of me.

To say I've worked hard to get where I am is no understatement... equally it is not a banner of qualification. It's just my story.. or more accurately, a part of it.

When I was 15 I moved out of my mother's home. I was very angry, ready to fight and looking for myself in the same way Indiana Jones chased the arc of the covenant. I was on a mad mission to assert myself into the world.

The reason for this early departure, is I wanted to be someone that there was no room for in my childhood home. To be honest, I grew up fast. Like real fast. I had a lot of responsibility really early on... but that is a story from another time.

After I left my Moms home, I lived between my boyfriend's house at the time, and my Dads place. That might not sound too outstanding but to be honest it was.

When I "moved in" with my Dad I was moving in with a stranger. I had been raised up without him in my life. I saw him a grand total of 2 maybe 3 times before the age of 6, and that was it till I was 15.

My parents were together for about 7 years and once I came into the equation, it was about 8 months before my Mother packed me up and left. To say my parents had a volatile relationship would probably be a softened description of what their life together was. To be honest with you, I never heard much in the way of a description of their life together beyond the talk of fights, violence and infidelity. Basically I was painted a pretty ugly and sad picture which to this day is still very obscure.

So the first time I met my Dad, he was a stranger to me. But he represented an undiscovered country, in that he was part of me, but he was also very much a mystery. Everything I knew about him was that he was a Vietnam veteran and that he was dangerous. He was someone who I needed to fear and loathe. At least according to the tales of woe told to me by my very wounded Mother.

I dont blame either of them for their split. They were young. They loved each other the best they could... they were just inadequate to the task. Like so many of us, they started with a dream that brought them to a very harsh reality. I feel sorry for them both.

So as I said, when I moved in with my Dad I had a lot of learning to do. I will never forget my first night in that little 16' x 12' cabin on the side of Mt. Hull in the Okanogan Highlands. It was February and as cold as you can imagine. I had never lived with him and had certainly never lived In a place like that cabin. Oh boy....

I remember pushing the wooden door open and walking into this cold little box. There were bullet casings on the floor everywhere, little trails of gun powder that lead to a reloading machine. There was a big McDonalds flag that served as a curtain over one of the windows and firewood heaped up next to an old barrel stove.

There were piles and piles of books lining the walls and an old C.B. radio on a shelf next to the other big window.

There was sage bundles, olive drab millitary water tanks and all manner of riff raff everywhere. There was no running water or even a well, no indoor plumbing and no electricity. In all of this there really was no room for a 15 year old girl. It was in that moment, standing in my father's mountain side cabin that I realized I was in for an education. I was a little scared but not enough to go back to my Mother's. I stayed and I learned more than I had a right to expect.

It was in that cabin that I learned to build a fire with wooden matches and kindling I chopped myself. It was in that cabin that I learned what the weight of a flak jacket felt like and how M.R.E.'s taste. I learned how to shoot a gun, a rifle, and a bow. I learned how to flint Knapp my own arrow heads and how to harvest bitter root if I ever really needed to eat it. I was taught how to scrape, tan and stretch a hide. I learned how to wash my hair in a creek before school and how to drive on dirt roads.

I learned how to read stars, talk with spirits and glimpse the unseen. I learned how to listen very quietly to whatever the wind wanted to tell me. I learned to haul water, cook on a propane stove and run a gasoline generator. I learned to bend willow saplings into a sweat lodge and sing and pray to a Spirit that had been waiting for me to call its name. All in a tiny cabin with a very grumpy old man who loved me, his very angsty, firey and rebelious daughter.

There are lots of stories I could tell you. Many adventures I can share. But I think the most important thing is that I show you a little bit about me. Something intimate and unknown.

And now... back to your regularly scheduled Alysa. Much Love.

1 Comment

I am still trying to find myself, your story is almost like mine, yet i did see my dad from time to time on weekends. Moved in with him after grade 8.

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