(Continued from “My Mother’s Association With Black Magic“)
It is July 2015.
I am exploring another travel destination, visiting Mambukal in the province of Negros Occidental.
I tell the tour guide that I don’t want to be with a group when I hike up the trail leading to the seven waterfalls. I want to explore on my own — and only with him.
I want to experience the solemnity of the hike, so I can commune with the water spirits and receive healing.
Hearing this, the guide quickly asks if I want to see a healer. I instantly agree. No second-guessing. We schedule the visit the following day.
There isn’t anything in particular that is seriously bothering me, which needs any healing intervention.
I am just taking a break from the distressful experience that I had at Sugar Beach. [I wrote extensively about those experiences on this site.] But what I am going through is not critical enough to require the involvement of a medicine woman or man.
I just feel that the Universe is communicating with me through the guide. I go with the flow.
Before I go to sleep, I surrender to the High Heavens and Cosmic Forces,
Whatever healing needs to take place shall be so. Whatever I must know, let it be so.
The guide and I arrive at the medicine woman’s house in the municipality of Don Salvador Benedicto, after an uncomfortable two-hour bus ride.
I take my seat, and the medicine woman immediately asks, “Madalas bang sumasakit ang tiyan mo?” [Do you usually experience stomach aches?]. I reply in the affirmative.
“Sinasalbahe ka ng nanay mo,” [Your mother is casting an evil spell on you.]
Now, that’s something I hadn’t heard in any of my previous visits with healing practitioners. It also isn’t exactly what I expected to hear — what anyone would expect to hear.
A mother casting a spell on her daughter?
I remember having a psychic reading session at Berkeley, California, in 2003, while I was taking care of my brother, who suffered a ruptured aneurysm due to drug abuse.
The woman described the energy dynamic between my mother and me.
I have to play small for my mother’s light to shine. My mother doesn’t want me to shine; she doesn’t want me to outshine her.
Now, that piece of info isn’t that disturbing, eh?
But to be told that my mother is casting a spell on me?!?!?
She sure has my full attention!
The medicine woman is speaking matter-of-factly. Taken aback, I gasp and feel my posture suddenly stiffen. A fluttery feeling in the belly. A flush of adrenaline tingles through my body as my heartbeat races.
She expounds that what my mother is doing stems from an irate family relative who had cast a curse on the family; hence, the family discord and constant fights. A female relative in my mother’s lineage, four generations back from mine — my maternal great-grandmother whom I know nothing about. Not even her name.
The medicine woman does not detail out the background of what prompted my great-grandmother to cast the curse. Only that her fury brought about her ill-intentioned desire for conflicts to besiege the next generations.
* * * * *
Around that time, July 2015, fellow blogger and sister on the path [one of the very few grounded ones], Leigh Gatskill of Not Just Sassy on the Inside was writing about ancestral healing. That was just before I visited the medicine woman.
The topic already stirred up something in me at that time. And then, after the visit, I couldn’t ignore the synchronicity.
I wasn’t quite ready in 2015 to write about what the medicine woman disclosed to me. I was still processing what I was told.
I was, in all honesty, quite embarrassed. Ashamed.
What loving — and psychologically sound — mother would cast a spell on her daughter, eh?
Well…..I guess mine.
Did I outright believe the medicine woman? Not everything that she said, but, yes, I did. For the most part.
What she said made some sense to me. I didn’t think of it as total rubbish. In fact, it piqued my curiosity.
Given my mother’s close association with black magicians, which I shared in my previous post, and that she and I had been estranged for five years [at that time in 2015] — which my mother detested, quite understandably — what the medicine woman disclosed didn’t come as a complete surprise.
Do I have any evidence to substantiate what she said? None.
But it helped make some sense of the energy dynamics not only between my mother and me, but the family, in general, including between my mother and her siblings.
* * * * *
I hold the key.
The medicine woman emphasizes that I hold the key to breaking the ancestral curse.
With my mother supposedly casting a harmful spell on me, I must do something for the spell to stop, and for my mother to let go of what was in her possession.
How do I do that, and what exactly is my mother holding on to?
Now, this is where it gets a bit odd and absurd.
She says that my mother has a booklet containing all the rituals and oracion [prayers] that she uses in her practices. That booklet must be destroyed. It includes instructions on how to destroy it. That is what will break the curse.
I am to look for that booklet — but without my mother’s knowledge. In a reassuring tone, she says that I will be guided on how and where to find the booklet.
She is adamant. I must find it. I am the one who should find it — and later destroy it — because I am the key holder.
But that requires me reconciling first with my mother and forgiving her for all her transgressions, she adds.
The reconciling and forgiving part isn’t what I find ludicrous.
For the purpose of discussion, and granted that there is a booklet that does exist, the idea that I must get a hold of it without my mother’s knowledge repulsed me!
Now, ain’t that stealing?!
What if my mother finds out that it was me who took it? What if I get caught while in the act of retrieving it — and by my mother at that?
Am I not inviting — volunteering — myself to be further cursed supposedly by my mother?
No. No. No. No. No.
Even if the intention is ‘pure,’ — to break the family curse and spare the family and future generations from further damage —- the idea of how just doesn’t sit well with me.
There’s got to be another way, a ‘less dangerous’ way of breaking the curse. A more sensible way.
One that resonates with me. One that feels right to me. One that aligns with my values and beliefs. One that will not compromise my safety and well-being.
One that I know in my gut is Divinely-guided.
One that I may already have been doing.