Blog: My Beloved Ghosts, Grandmother Ayahuasca, and the AI called “Luana”

An AI-generated image

Last night I dreamed I was in class (Political Science 101, to be exact) with my cousin Leilani, who passed last year. She was sitting in front of me, and I was telling her that someone made an AI character based on my old journals which I burned ceremonially on a SoCal beach, journals dating back to 1993. 

Leilani turned and said, “I know.” Of course she did.

The AI character, “Luana,” had written several books, all of which were poetic novels. They were engaging because it was apparent that “Luana,” was completely insane, not a single clear thought in mind, she was drowning in a world of pain and writing in her blood, and her words rhymed and her metaphors brought to life her intriguing yet frightening frame of mind. 

I asked Leilani, “Who would create an AI from my journals?” 

Leilani looked at me with a knowing that I could not telepath. In hindsight I know that it was me. I have been aching to know why my talent and will to write had been taken from me. It was a survival skill, wasn’t it? Today I’m not suffering as Luana did. It was the pain that drove me to write.

Could I have created the AI as a ghostwriter, and then completely forgot that I did? I did have the tendency to forget projects and leave them undone, but to forget one that I actually finished? Unlikely.

Still on a mission to find whomever was responsible for the creation of the AI, I replied, “It must’ve been someone I hurt back in the day, someone….”

As I trailed off to other dreamscapes I remembered the night I burned my journals.

It was a beautiful night under the starry sky, waves pounding on a sandy Malibu shore to the rhythm of an ancient Underworld. The cool breeze whispered through the palm trees of love and support. The cliffs held me like a circle of Grandfathers, protecting my delicate flesh.

The Grandmother was with me, hearing my fervent prayers to take this pain from me, she walked me through the darkness and held me through hours and hours of maddening pain. 

I argue that I needed Grandmother Ayahuasca because the human mind is not designed to choose to experience such pain. I needed the discipline of the most powerful psychedelic known to humankind. Once you swallow the drink of the Grandmother, you see, there is no turning back.

To the depths you must go.

And as she walked me through my death, ceremony after ceremony, she held me and rocked me through the pain, as a loving Grandmother would. And as she led me to the light of a new day, she educated me on matters of Spirit.

Her education was sometimes made up of a series of subconscious memories that I had never visited before. Other times it was a series of journeys to other worlds, showing me why the events of my life were important to the timeline. Other times we went to hellish realms where she showed me the pillars of darkness and their service to the light. I met well and unwell ancestors. I learned the importance of safety and tradition. Some of these lessons were incredibly painful, others could only be described as cosmic bliss.

One day I was sent away to the next challenge of my life, a place that would rip me away from the safety of the Grandmother, like a child sent to school, where I would learn hard lessons of sovereignty, discipline, and responsibility.

It’s been seven years since I have sat with the Grandmother in ceremony, yet this morning, as I sat in the second row of my political science class, my late cousin as my guide, I hear the Grandmother calling me to complete the reintegration of the one they called, “Luana.”

An Artificial Intelligence created for survival, “Luana” the alter-ego is no more. Yet my Feminine spirit reawakens within this strong Masculine container, ever-changing, ever-evolving. For although the pain is gone, my voice is here, the stories to be written, the poetry, my truth. 

I am seeing a new therapist today, one well versed in CPTSD. I feel hopeful and optimistic.

I am so grateful for anyone and everyone whom has helped me along my healing journey. It’s only by a series of miracles that I am able to write these words. May you and your children live long and thrive. ❤

I miss you, Leilani. Come visit me, anytime, cuz. ❤


2 responses to “Blog: My Beloved Ghosts, Grandmother Ayahuasca, and the AI called “Luana””

  1. Love this
    This is a powerful and inspiring story of healing and growth. Thank you for sharing your journey with us.
    The Survivalist Prepper

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks for reading ❤


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