Cat's Story: Extended Version
As a kid, my three biggest influences were Sleeping Beauty because she got to live in the woods, go out and pick berries and was friends with all the animals; Daisy Duke because she was not only beautiful but could also put up a good fight; and Wart from Sword in the Stone because he lived in a castle and hung out with a wizard who changed him into different animals so he could see what it was like (firmly cementing his belief in magic).
Sometimes I would lie in the grass in our backyard, arms and fingers outstretched, trying to feel exactly how big Earth is. I imagined the grass under me was the Earth’s hair. I pictured the wholeness of her from my little patch of grass, as she floated in space and smiled. I felt the aliveness of the entire Earth, from grass to melted core. I imagined she was a living being.
Our family went to church every Sunday, and I knew God was there listening. I saw my prayers float up to heaven on little pieces of paper; but there was something else that fascinated me.
Sometimes I would lie in the grass in our backyard, arms and fingers outstretched, trying to feel exactly how big Earth is. I imagined the grass under me was the Earth’s hair. I pictured the wholeness of her from my little patch of grass, as she floated in space and smiled. I felt the aliveness of the entire Earth, from grass to melted core. I imagined she was a living being.
Our family went to church every Sunday, and I knew God was there listening. I saw my prayers float up to heaven on little pieces of paper; but there was something else that fascinated me.
That time in the car one Sunday when Mom suddenly gasped and exclaimed, “Oh my gosh, Aunt Celia!”
“What, Mom? What about Aunt Silly?” I asked. “I don’t know. She just popped into my head all of a sudden. I'll have to call her.” “Oh. Did you forget to call her?” “No... I wonder if she’s in the hospital.” Celia, Mom’s youngest sister was expecting her first baby, but not for another couple months. As soon as we got home from church, Mom called the hospital and asked if Celia Martin had checked in. She had. Mom asked to be transferred to the room. My uncle answered (“Martin’s Bar & Grill, can I help you?”) and confirmed that Aunt Celia had gone into labor and given birth to my cousin Eliza that morning. That was so cooooool! |
Cat Fritz |
In church I would pray: “Show me what you want me to see. Tell me what you want me to know.”
But there were other things that fascinated me. I wanted to know how to talk to animals. I read books about ghost stories and, during a camping trip with my Girl Scout troop once, felt convinced a thief was entering our tent as we slept (though of course no physical being came in). Sometimes as a kid, after waking up from a nightmare, I'd instinctively put a hot pink bubble around myself. No one taught me to do that, but I immediately felt safe.
On Memorial Day weekend a couple years after my cousin's entry into the world, the family was together at my grandparents', giving each other the standard familial ribbing. When the attention turned to my grandfather, his response was, “You all better be nice to me. This is my last summer here.”
“Yeah, right,” came the general response.
Labor Day rolled around and found him sick for a week, causing him to check into the hospital. The doctors ran tests and discovered he had Leukemia. He’d been in the hospital for two days when a nurse came in to bring a flower arrangement someone had sent.
“You can take those out of here,” he said. “I won’t be here tomorrow.”
Again came the gentle scoffing from my family. “What, you think you’re gonna be well enough to go home?”
The next day, after Mom left the hospital to take me to a horseback lesson, we got the call that he’d passed. He knew. He knew earlier that summer even, with no diagnosis from a doctor.
I'd learn about more and more things like this happening in our family. I was fascinated that people could have that kind of connection to just know things without hearing or being told. I wanted to know how to do that!
In college, I signed up for a class called Myths & Rituals, secretly hoping we’d learn how to dance around a bonfire. Instead, we studied the spiritual practices of the Lakota and the !Kung of Africa. I was hooked.
After college I moved up to Chicago and became friends with a co-worker whose boyfriend practiced Wicca. They invited me to have a small Halloween ceremony with them, and he loaned me one of his books. I remembered my prayer in church, and figured, well, God wants me to know about this. So, I started reading.
I learned about the belief systems that existed before Christianity, and their demonization by the early Christians. I never grew up thinking other religions were any different than mine, so I had no problem embracing this new knowledge. I believed in God, and if you did, too, that made sense to me, even if you practiced it differently. What I couldn’t get behind was one group saying to another, “We’re right, you’re wrong, and we’re going to make you change. Even if we have to kill you.” That, to me, was wrong, and I started backing away from Christianity as a result. After all, God wanted me to know about this.
As the years went on, I took to the Internet and learned about the power in crystals, spirits, and animal guides. I picked up my first Tarot deck and began learning how to give readings. I also started to see and feel beings in my apartment and out walking around.
As a kid I could occasionally feel beings, and it was scary I’m not gonna lie! In my mid-20s I joined an online group that helped me realize I wasn’t making these things up. After that group dissolved, I'd get together with another friend who was sensitive to energy, and he taught me how to feel the energies of objects and the world around us. It was crazy and weird and I LOVED it.
As wonderful as all these experiences were, I still hadn’t had that “coming home” feeling that so many people talk about when exploring new belief systems.
Then one day, I read Black Elk: The Sacred Ways of a Lakota by Wallace Black Elk and William S. Lyon. I read about the Native Americans’ belief that all life is equal and therefore sacred. That every living being has a spirit, and that is the common denominator among us all. Everything with a spirit is your relation, your brother, sister, mother, cousin; and deserves to be treated as such. The day I read this, I put the book down and cried, looked at the sky stretching out above the willow tree I sat under. I saw Tunkashila in the sky, wearing a blanket of rainbow colors and realized, “yes, this is my home.”
Since then, I’ve dedicated myself to treating every living being with equal respect. Believe you me, it is not easy, especially in our world filled with judgment and competition. On top of that, how do you deal with people who demand negative attention from those around them? Or the homeless person on the street begging for change? They are your brother, sister, cousin. How would you treat your brother then? It’s not easy.
Catching up to 2009, I took the energy healing apprenticeship followed by Reiki training in 2010. I also began to practice Native spirituality in 2013 with a Medicine Man from the Arapaho, Pawnee, and Kiowa tribes, who eventually became my Ceremonial Grandfather.
I’ve learned that every belief system at its core teaches Peace, Love and Unity; and it’s only those systems looking for personal power that give spirituality a bad name. After all, we’re calling out to the same higher power for assistance.
We are all related.
So it is that I come to this space with open arms and open heart, to offer you guidance and cleansing, through a connection with Spirit. It is my hope to lead all who enter here to Joyfulness, Peace, Clarity, and Groundedness - back to yourself - so you may fulfill your soul and life’s purpose.
Aho
But there were other things that fascinated me. I wanted to know how to talk to animals. I read books about ghost stories and, during a camping trip with my Girl Scout troop once, felt convinced a thief was entering our tent as we slept (though of course no physical being came in). Sometimes as a kid, after waking up from a nightmare, I'd instinctively put a hot pink bubble around myself. No one taught me to do that, but I immediately felt safe.
On Memorial Day weekend a couple years after my cousin's entry into the world, the family was together at my grandparents', giving each other the standard familial ribbing. When the attention turned to my grandfather, his response was, “You all better be nice to me. This is my last summer here.”
“Yeah, right,” came the general response.
Labor Day rolled around and found him sick for a week, causing him to check into the hospital. The doctors ran tests and discovered he had Leukemia. He’d been in the hospital for two days when a nurse came in to bring a flower arrangement someone had sent.
“You can take those out of here,” he said. “I won’t be here tomorrow.”
Again came the gentle scoffing from my family. “What, you think you’re gonna be well enough to go home?”
The next day, after Mom left the hospital to take me to a horseback lesson, we got the call that he’d passed. He knew. He knew earlier that summer even, with no diagnosis from a doctor.
I'd learn about more and more things like this happening in our family. I was fascinated that people could have that kind of connection to just know things without hearing or being told. I wanted to know how to do that!
In college, I signed up for a class called Myths & Rituals, secretly hoping we’d learn how to dance around a bonfire. Instead, we studied the spiritual practices of the Lakota and the !Kung of Africa. I was hooked.
After college I moved up to Chicago and became friends with a co-worker whose boyfriend practiced Wicca. They invited me to have a small Halloween ceremony with them, and he loaned me one of his books. I remembered my prayer in church, and figured, well, God wants me to know about this. So, I started reading.
I learned about the belief systems that existed before Christianity, and their demonization by the early Christians. I never grew up thinking other religions were any different than mine, so I had no problem embracing this new knowledge. I believed in God, and if you did, too, that made sense to me, even if you practiced it differently. What I couldn’t get behind was one group saying to another, “We’re right, you’re wrong, and we’re going to make you change. Even if we have to kill you.” That, to me, was wrong, and I started backing away from Christianity as a result. After all, God wanted me to know about this.
As the years went on, I took to the Internet and learned about the power in crystals, spirits, and animal guides. I picked up my first Tarot deck and began learning how to give readings. I also started to see and feel beings in my apartment and out walking around.
As a kid I could occasionally feel beings, and it was scary I’m not gonna lie! In my mid-20s I joined an online group that helped me realize I wasn’t making these things up. After that group dissolved, I'd get together with another friend who was sensitive to energy, and he taught me how to feel the energies of objects and the world around us. It was crazy and weird and I LOVED it.
As wonderful as all these experiences were, I still hadn’t had that “coming home” feeling that so many people talk about when exploring new belief systems.
Then one day, I read Black Elk: The Sacred Ways of a Lakota by Wallace Black Elk and William S. Lyon. I read about the Native Americans’ belief that all life is equal and therefore sacred. That every living being has a spirit, and that is the common denominator among us all. Everything with a spirit is your relation, your brother, sister, mother, cousin; and deserves to be treated as such. The day I read this, I put the book down and cried, looked at the sky stretching out above the willow tree I sat under. I saw Tunkashila in the sky, wearing a blanket of rainbow colors and realized, “yes, this is my home.”
Since then, I’ve dedicated myself to treating every living being with equal respect. Believe you me, it is not easy, especially in our world filled with judgment and competition. On top of that, how do you deal with people who demand negative attention from those around them? Or the homeless person on the street begging for change? They are your brother, sister, cousin. How would you treat your brother then? It’s not easy.
Catching up to 2009, I took the energy healing apprenticeship followed by Reiki training in 2010. I also began to practice Native spirituality in 2013 with a Medicine Man from the Arapaho, Pawnee, and Kiowa tribes, who eventually became my Ceremonial Grandfather.
I’ve learned that every belief system at its core teaches Peace, Love and Unity; and it’s only those systems looking for personal power that give spirituality a bad name. After all, we’re calling out to the same higher power for assistance.
We are all related.
So it is that I come to this space with open arms and open heart, to offer you guidance and cleansing, through a connection with Spirit. It is my hope to lead all who enter here to Joyfulness, Peace, Clarity, and Groundedness - back to yourself - so you may fulfill your soul and life’s purpose.
Aho