From my future self...

by Tumi Moloto (they/them)

Image by Jr Korpa


my dear, sweet one. I am holding you close. we have travelled many miles together, walked many steps, we have come to know each other well. you are me, as I am you, and we are not long for this world – for this body. our face is etched with lines that are a testament to a life well lived. we have children, grandchildren too. we are soon to join the ancestors, becoming one ourselves – we have this sense in our body.


I am sure that you have many questions. there is so much that I would like to tell you. you, who can be so full of doubt and trust – living within you as strange bedfellows. you who holds so many fears, and hopes, for what our future may hold. it is okay to cry. there is so much that lives within you, within us. so much that is ours, so much that is not – but has become ours to hold. I could tell you about how the world is different, about how it looks. about our incredible technological innovations that now you can only dream of (and I would encourage you to do so).


it is important to dream, my dear one. that is how we created this world. we imagined that something different was possible. we could feel it calling to us, beckoning us, wanting to be birthed through us. that is all that we are, after all, we humans. birthers. life givers. creators. and then, we had faith. hope. trust. that if we dug our hands into the soil, turned it, layered our compost over it and planted our seeds – maybe they would grow. we (you) tended to a future that you could only imagine, believe in and dream was possible – and there is great power in that. a great power in you. in all of us. well, I’ll give you a brief overview of the who, what, when, why (I know you are curious).


the pandemic was just the beginning of a series of changes that would radically, totally and completely transform our society. there were years of chaos, of uncertainty, of turmoil and unrest, as the forces of this world toiled and tumbled for control. those who held power did not want to let go of it, they found new ways to worm their way into hovels and hiding places, disguising themselves as the unexpected. power-over, as we call it, did not want to let go without a fight – to unsink its teeth from our flesh. but a new form of power was already being birthed, a deep power from within each of us, a power that could not be legitimized or delegitimized by the other. it simply was (is).

and slowly, people began to wake up. they began to taste freedom, to see it, to yearn for it, to pursue it with such a ferocity, with such fire and force and willpower. this is the power of the human spirit.

as humanity began to awaken, so did our gifts. that is where the new technologies, the new ideas, the new ways of being came from. from this ‘new’ human. this part is fuzzy to me now. these are some of the things that will come with age, as you (we) will discover. I do remember, in these years, being amazed at what we saw. the resilience of human beings, the indomitable spirit. the desire for freedom, for ourselves and others. the return to love. the return to connection. perhaps that was the most beautiful. people began to open their hearts, after years (and centuries) of having their hearts closed to one another. to their humanity (I say they, because you and I have always had a complicated relationship to our humanness).


I remember the deep grief, too. the grief that you feel now. it was (is) so overwhelming, so raw, so… full. I will tell you, we learned that we had to face it. we had to face the deep, consuming grief of what we had done to our home. to our ancestors’ and our descendants’ home. we had to honour it, to meet it fully, in its bigness. we had to meet the earth in her/his/their rage. we were humbled before it. we allowed ourselves to be undone.


they were painful times. but they were also joyous. they were rich. they were loving. in that grieving, in that meeting, we connected. to ourselves, to the earth. to each other. to the ancestors.

oh sweet one, the ancestors! they waited for us, with open hands and arms and hearts, ready to be healed – and to share that healing with us in turn.

we returned to dancing and singing on the festival days, honouring the changes in season and the cycles of the moon and the stars and the planets. we took our rightful place amidst all of life.


that is the beauty of this time (and why we chose to come here, after all). the pain of disconnection had been felt for so long, that the joy of re-connection was so… sweet. forgive me dear one, it is hard to speak and convey ideas when there is still so much you do not know, still so much you are yet to experience. we speak about time differently now, but I am doing my best to convey ideas of here/now/past/present. but time has changed. in truth, there is only now.


I suppose, what I want to tell you about is how it feels. you will see how it looks, soon enough. but it feels, and tastes, and sounds, and smells, like freedom. it smells like clean air, and the scent of herbs growing in the garden. it looks like hands, digging into earth together, and smiles exchanged with sweat on our brows. it tastes like pleasure. it is a sweetness, a fullness, a richness, that you have longed for. that we have sought, lifetime after lifetime. to you, now, it is almost unimaginable in just how much it is everything you have ever yearned for, every dreamed of, ever hoped was possible. hold on to that vision that lives inside of you, to that seed that only you can offer to the soils of a world-becoming. and when that vision feels too big, too large, too unimaginable. when you doubt that you can reach it, remember, that here, now, it already is. and I am here, with you, holding the seed. as are your ancestors, who are so proud of you.


hold on to your faith (it is why we chose the birth name that we did – after all). tumelo meaning faith. that is your anchor. that is your lighthouse. your life raft. that is your shelter in the storm that you will face, for there is a storm coming. the storm is already here. and so is the rainbow. neither good or bad, simply necessary, and part of life. I know it doesn’t always feel like it, but there are many stories of how things turned out to be okay. you are living one now. and there are many like you. and so, remember that I am always with you. and remember, that your hope, your imagination, your belief in a different world – is what will make it possible.


remember that who you are is important, and what you remind people of, what you evoke in them, is even more so. hold onto your raft, even when you do not know where it is taking you. I do, I have lived it. and this place, this now, is your wildest dream.


 

Tumi Moloto (they/them) is a lover, somatic sex and relationship coach,

a medicine maker @thefourseasonsapothecary

and talking head (and body!) @humanbecomingpodcast