We don’t become magic.
We simply have to remember, we are it
Long before I knew words like frequency, intuition, or energy field—
I was already dancing with them.
Living them—raw, unfiltered, and real.
As a child, I sensed things before they happened. I spoke truths that made adults uncomfortable. I knew things I wasn’t supposed to know—and not because someone told me—because my soul whispered.
I’d walk into a room and feel everything: the tension, the grief, the unspoken pain beneath someone’s smile. I didn’t understand how or why—I just knew. My body knew. My spirit listened long before I had the language for what it was doing.
And like so many of us, I was shut down.
“Why would you say that?”
“You’re too sensitive.”
“That’s just your imagination.”
“How did you know that?”
“Why are you always asking such deep questions?”
“You’re too much.”
What they didn’t realize is that those gifts were never made to be small.
They were meant to be BIG guides for me and those I love.
I followed my instincts before I knew the word intuition.
I trusted my gut more than my own mother.
I was never the popular girl – I always avoided people, places, and situations that felt off, and would always get in trouble for “dancing to the beat of my own drum.”
But my body knew.
It was already fluent in a wisdom that couldn’t be explained with words or logic.
They called me high energy—but it was more than that.
I was tuned in.
Open.
Reading more than just words.
I was feeling the frequency behind everything.
And yet, I learned early to quiet it down.
To dim. To adapt. To shape-shift into something more palatable.
Because being a child who sees and senses too much can feel dangerous in a world that rewards numbness.
But even in the hiding, the remembering never stopped.
I made little rituals with leaves and stones.
I whispered to animals.
I talked to the moon.
Certain smells like ylang ylang—lavender, rose, clove—made me time bend, as if I’d just walked through a portal from my grandmother’s kitchen to another I still carry in my bones.
I walked through distant lands and felt like I’d been there before.
Not as a memory, but a soul imprint.
Recognition without reason.
And I began to understand…
This isn’t my imagination.
It’s ancestral memory.
It’s soul wisdom.
It’s what we carry before we’re ever told we shouldn’t.
I now call it being an indigo child, medicine woman, lightworker,
Una Sabidura
Call it whatever you want.
The name doesn’t matter as much as the truth:
You were never “too much.”
You were never imagining it.
You were never broken.
You were just early.
Ancient.
Wide open in a world still waking up.
And maybe you’re reading this because something in you is remembering too.
Maybe you’ve always known things you couldn’t explain.
Maybe you’ve always felt a little out of place and ahead of your time.
Maybe you’ve always felt your power—even when you were told to hide it.
You don’t need permission to reclaim it now.
You don’t have to prove your worthiness.
You just have to remember who you were before the world told you to forget.
You are the light.
You’ve always have been.