by ALEXA IMANI SPENCER
In the darkness of her bedroom, 9-year-old Imani was awakened by a sensation grazing her backside. She rose from her sleep, turned over in her bed to see a blue glow seeping through the edges of her nightstand drawer. The light shone brighter and brighter—its rays stretching out from every direction. The glow pulsed rhythmically as if to be calling on her for a dance.
In her bonnet and night clothes, she jumped against her bedroom wall, confused by the sight. After moments of hesitation, looking over to her sleeping grandmother and back to the drawer, she opened it. A glowing blue letter lay inside. The following words were stamped across it:
“TO: IMANI
“FROM: PRESENT SELF“This letter was officiated by Ancestor Council 352 to be sent from present self to past self, from year 2020 to 2005, with the intent to inspire.”
She looked on with big eyes, picked up the letter and slid down the side of her bed, mouth wide open. Quiet, as to not wake anyone, she read.
“Imani,
“My sweetest Imani. I’m glad you’ve made it, that you found this letter tucked inside your nightstand. As you make your way through the words here, I want you to take your time. You’re protected at all sides. This note is yours forever. It will resonate in your blood. All you must do to activate the information is to remember. Download it.
“I’ve seen you through the mirror of time crying at your reality. You’ve wondered why you were placed in the world you’re in and how long should you live with such discontent. I’m here to tell you that there is a purpose. I’m not here to tell you what exactly the purpose is, as I would be remiss to reveal such a rich experience before it’s due. What I will share, however, is how you must journey on to make it there.
“Look over your right shoulder. You see those books stacked up on the dresser? You’ll need those. Read all of them. Your grandmother knows this truth. Though you’re unsure of it, you’re going to be an amazing writer one day. I know, I know, you wanted to be a veterinarian. And that’s all right, too. You’ll still love on animals, trust me. But this, Imani, is your soul’s contribution to the world we’re talking about.”
Imani peeked over the bed at the other side of the dark room. Her grandmother snored and rolled over toward the window. She dropped back down and continued reading the letter.
“You’ll write books that etch holy possibilities into the minds of children and revive the imagination of adults. You’ll travel into lands unchartered by the so-called power holders in your country. Those lying, conniving assholes don’t have access. You know who I’m talking about! Those folks don’t have access to the power that marked your blood. So tell them white boys at school who make fun of your hair to ‘kiss my black ass!’ They don’t have the superpower. You do.”
She covered her mouth, giggling to herself. Smiling after what felt like years of crying.
“So, what I need you to do is to stretch the possibilities. Bend the rules. Shoot, break them! Test the waters. Explore their hidden depths. When others tell you ‘no’ or ‘you can’t,’ try anyway. Find out for yourself what you’re truly capable of.
“Remember that time last year in 3rd grade when you sat sprawled across the classroom floor with 30 sheets of paper full of your writing? Imani, a handwritten book lay on that floor! This is your prophecy. I beg of you, don’t take no for an answer! See beyond any proposed limitation, beyond the matrix you’re living in. Get out of all their boxes.
Promise me you’ll always envision, that you’ll keep your word, that you’ll move your wrist to the beat of your own drum. Promise me!”
She looked around, looked back to the letter and nodded. “I promise,” she whispered.
“Alright, now, there’s one more thing I need you to do. In addition to reading those books on the dresser, I ask that you keep this information to yourself. Your friends, they won’t comprehend it. Just as they could not fathom belief IN your spiritual gift, it will be hard for their minds to wrap around the capacity your imagination holds. Your family, well, they won’t get it right away either. But in time. In time they will. In time they all will, including you. Let them watch as it becomes.
“I love you, my younger self. And I’m watching over you as you see this journey through. Until next time, pick up the pen! Love you, beloved. Smile sweet and rest with ease.
“P.S. The Ancestors are blessed by your beauty. Each day, you are blossoming more and more as the flower they handpicked to plant on Earth. Take some time to be with your beauty. It’s radiant, can’t you see?
“Yourself as Woman,
“<< Imani a.d. >>”