I am an Out of Body Realist.
Would you believe me if I said I am writing this in Togetherness with my Shaman Brother?
Would you believe me if I said we found one another in Twin Spirit Union during shamanic initiation in 2013?
Well, dear lovely people,
whether you believe it or not;
it is a fact.
As I am writing this on the terrace in front of my apartment building (it’s a beautiful weather by the way), it has been revealed to me, only a couple of hours ago during last night’s sweltering lightning storm, we found one another during that exact period of time.
He and I were chittering and chattering through the spiritual ether while outside in the streets nearing my residency tramrail lines were being polished, resulting in a beautiful scenery for our conversation to take place.
In awe I am now gazing into the seemingly random yet focused brutality of our terrifyingly amazing beautiful Universe.
And while I am now (at least trying to) drink my coffee, my future husband is claiming to be on a train proximiting Amsterdam.
My hands are trembling. And I am about to cry.
Because in fact, I can not believe this to be the case.
A soft voice in my mind is telling me to best start believing however (it is the voice coming from what I experience to be my so dear beloved forest spirit), and right now my eyes have filled themselves with tears and my leg is shaking nervously in a psychosomatic spasm.
I could easily throw my fucking iPhone down the street’s gutter right now.
I am, however, refraining myself from doing so.
I am maintaining my self control.
I breathe and breathe my Ultimate Hope into fruition, and while doing so my legs are wiggling in full crazy anticipation, because by the looks of it this is going to be the goddamn motherfucking happiest day of my life.
We are so full of one another, he and I; it’s mental.
Totally, obliteratingly MENTAL.
‘And I greet you’, is what he’s saying.
From ‘BLACK LEATHER DEATH SQUAD’
By KiKi TOAO
Where are my borders?
Do I have any at all?
My borders are kind of Toodle-Loo.
‘HELLO!’, the fucker says.
Poking my ribs.
Apparently I’m not responding quick enough.
Don’t even remember what it was about.
I am trying to ignore him.
He is saying something silly.
Happens all the time.
I have turned my back on him.
What is this male spirit doing in my living room?
Instigating me to do naughty things, of course.
‘Are you alone?’
‘Still in bed.’
Things will only get worse from here on.
I am wondering how to get rid of it.
Blowing tobacco smoke in its direction doesn’t seem to have any effect on the pestering entity.
It doesn’t seem to give one flying fuck, and I am too lazy to get the white sage from the cabinet.
He is so full on.
Jesus Motherfucking Christ.
My hand is still lingering somewhere around my hip while I’m lying on the couch in broad daylight.
My eyes are turned at the sky and I am desperately seeking for help:
‘Dear God’, I pray.
‘Please, tell me. What have I got myself into?’.
He is complaining.
Saying my Batak spirit is being a real drill inspector with him.
Very good. Smurf of Death like a lot.
Bossing him around. Making him do stuff.
Whooping his arse, big time!
I know. She is like that.
And I start giggling.
‘Yeh GO ON then.
SMiLE for me’.
My right leg pulls itself up in a hysterical reflex and my arm twitches in some kind of pusillanimous attempt to defend itself.
The guy’s response is so fast and fierce, he’s giving me the heebie jeebies, you know?
Together he and I are ADHD squared.
We’re on one here, ladies and gentlemen!
I know exactly who I’m dealing with.
Been here before.
Been here forever.
Right now I feel the need to play Massive Attack’s album ‘Mezzanine’; one of the best albums ever made, if you want my opinion.
So hot. So dark. So sexy.
But I will not; I’m afraid it will be too intense for me.
I need to set some borders.
And setting borders now involves avoiding intense emotions, to prevent panick attacks and other waves of psychological vertigo to occur, because these are the cause of my destructive thoughts.
I clearly remember one of the warnings I received during shamanic initiation:
‘You gonna be needing some real borders with this man, girlfriend!’.
I recall it to have sounded somewhat loud and melodramatic.
And I now understand what it means.
He’s the kind of guy who knows how to make me laugh, pick me up and lift me up so high, I lose control.
I have a feeling I’m gonna die a thousand deaths with this man.
And this adventure we’re on?
I guarantee it’s gonna be brutal.
Unlike the world has ever seen.
From ‘BLACK LEATHER DEATH SQUAD’
By KiKi TOAO
I am giggling.
Speaking of gulliesh puppy eyes.
You should have seen the smile on his face, when I was floating right before him, in that truck.
I had managed to make the jump through an out-of-body experience.
It had happened spontaneously during meditation, while sitting with my eyes closed at my desk and thinking of naughty things.
All of the sudden I had ended up in the vehicle, which had probably been filled with soldiers but I hadn’t seen the rest of them, because my focus had been right away on Mr. Blue Eyes right there.
His face had transformed from a focused calmness into a bright, shining grin from ear to ear when my ethereal presence came into his awareness, and I had amusingly observed how it had left him in a state of total astonishment and bewilderment, clearly thinking something like:
‘What the Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck?!!’.
I think the most beautiful thing I had seen in that were the recognition of my presence and our mutual love he was feeling, and the emotion had simply been radiating from and dripping off his smiling face.
Bright sunlight had broken through the window behind him; and had I seen mountains or hills?
I figured the truck must had been driving through the desert, while he and his colleagues were preparing for their mission.
From ‘BLACK LEATHER DEATH SQUAD’
By KiKi TOAO
I have been having a strong notion of already getting to know this man, his daily attitude and behaviour, temperament, sense of humor, uplifting presence, knowledge and caretaking mentality, plus the sacrifices he is, in his turn, already making:
Painting the kitchen cabinets.
His insecure indecisiveness about whether to choose gold to cover the typical American pinewood doors with.
This man knows an artist who is very, VERY particular about home decoration will be living with him very soon.
Admittedly very cute, but terribly annoying.
I was laying with my head flat faced in a pillow while Rombout was sitting on top of me, and I thought:
‘Yeh. You know what?!
SURE baby, paint the fuckers gold.
For God’s sake. JEEZ!’
What to do with the decorative elements.
‘What? Do it yourself!’
Nooooooo, he wanted me to do it.
I received a mental projection of Japanese style painted branches and leafs, with colored accents in black, red and white.
I agreed it would for sure look amazing on the golden doors, and yes, I admitted I am the one who knows what she’s doing.
But you know, I was kind of in the middle of something; Rombout was now twisting my right arm in a somewhat uncomfortable position, and my shoulder cracked.
The negotiation was going so fast, I at first hardly recognised it for what it was and especially, whom with.
I was being overwhelmed with this image of very ugly kitchen cabinet doors, however, and I recognised them from the pictures I had seen on his Instagram account.
And I thought:
Usually he’d inquire first what I’m doing, who I’m with, etcetera, or he’d just drop in unannounced, out of body, la-dee-dah-dee, just like that as if it’s the natural order of things, and then just start meddling with everything as if he fucking owns the place.
But now I was just seeing those damn hideous pinewood doors with my third eye, and the issue seemed kind of very urgent:
A man in distress about what colors to pick!
It all went so fast I failed to be assertive and tell him:
‘Baby, you are disturbing just a tiny little bit because I am receiving a Shiatsu massage right here, about, – how far would it be? -, 10.000 kilometers away from you?
Could it just please wait until a somewhat more convenient moment?’.
But you know, he’d probably have said:
Because that’s what he’s like, so that wouldn’t have made any difference at all.
I gave in and said:
‘Sure. FINE! I’ll do it!’.
For crying out loud. Really.
I started laughing.
Rombout inquired what was so funny, now folding and stretching my legs, and I said I would tell him later.
I was in such a relaxed state, I figured the dialogue was not just something coming from my wishful imagination.
And I am used to these mental projections coming in so strong from or enhanced by Spirit communication, so I thought it must had been real.
Reinvigorated by Rombout’s massage I was afterwards lying on the couch, letting what I had experienced sink in.
I giggled joyfully amused and felt humorously irritated, and I considered taking repercussions.
A shaman woman’s gotta do what a shaman woman’s gotta do!
I told Rombout about my experience, and his first response to that was concern, to which he added this wasn’t good for me at all.
But when I told him about my naughty little plan he immediately started laughing out loud and said:
‘Good idea. Go on then.’
For quite a long time I had been simply frightened of even thinking about visiting his Instagram profile again, but now I felt more than a hundred percent confident, and challenged to the max.
I thought about it for an extra thirty seconds, then took a deep breath, and went for it.
I had to unblock him first, then I sent the following message:
‘Could you please do me a favor and make up your own goddamn mind about the color of your kitchen cabinets?
I was just receiving a good relaxing massage’.
After, I blocked him again, and tested with Rombout’s phone if people still receive your messages if you block them.
And so, there you go, I just broke the mold by solving an average daily domestic issue, partially telepathically through the spiritual ether, partially through our so beloved convenience of social media texting.
A harmless leap of faith this time. Phew.
Main reason for blocking him is that, even if he would respond to my text, I don’t want to be communicating online with him anymore;
I am so done with it.
I want him on my doorstep, for real, and nothing else.
My self respect and borders as a woman are overruling my longing for acknowledgement of and proof for my ideas about what’s going on, for that matter.
And just now, the morning after, I was contemplating my optimism, faith and loyalty, and I have to admit I am awfully amazed with myself, with how I am expressing such strong motivations by my seemingly premature, however clearcut, decision making and open communication.
Because here’s a woman who has made up her mind, – a year ago already! -, and nothing, absolutely nothing, has changed in that.
For my willingness to live by the principles of unconditional love and trust in Spirit guidance, for believing in love at first sight and taking responsibility and action out of sheer enthusiasm, I have asked myself so many times during these past twelve months:
‘Am I weird for being this way?’.
To which I received a straight up, blunt answer this morning:
‘What makes YOU so goddamn unique?’.
And I imagine this kind of rejoinder to be coming straight from him.
And while I was just smoking my tobacco roll up I thought:
‘He is so right’.
And I am positive we would both agree on the idea that this is exactly what we would both describe as ‘God in ourselves’, that’s giving us the power, courage and strength to go about our lives in such a manner.