A Wizard of Sorts.

On Friday, my brother and I went around to all of the houses I have lived in. I remember one time asking my mother about one place where we lived that I had thought that I did not remember, but apparently I had, through dreams. The first place, I would not remember from the outside, but the inside, I would remember well, which apparently I did, based on my mother's memory.

And of all the things I've thought, I remember her - not my mother's - words: "You are a wizard. Those are Wizard staffs, you're a wizard."

In way, I feel I am. I always seek those like me, but of course, I never seem to get out of the service part of it. Being a real wizard, with the power of the universe, isn't all spells. It's service, to our own kind, to help it out of the great pain it's in, to dream and give hope. If I don't have hope, if I can't imbue hope, then what chance do we ever have to have to live?

I cannot deny that I can touch minds, that I can help the dead. I also cannot deny that I can see the future, the past of people, and will try to help them accordingly, despite all odds. I struck out with a magic that didn't understand, and I got hit with a magic I didn't understand. I can't describe to you that feeling. But I want to be involved with it again, and I know there's others like me out there, and I want to meet them. I know they exist in my family, and soon enough, my brothers will know. But they are young. I like giving guidance to the young. It is, as they say, my forte.

I hope something comes along that I can help with. Because that's my branch, the service of others, of connected love, threads in our universe.