—- CHAPTER 3 —-
Trials of the Faithful
How early are your first childhood memories?
Most people have an age where before they have almost no memory. I speculate that until we achieve a bare minimum level of self-awareness, we struggle to either store or recall the past memories before we are critically thinking.
My family believes this fully, and uses this as a springboard for their learning theories.
Hyuga children are often quizzed on facts such as dates of events, important formulas, and other key teachings in order to promote more accurate memory retention, but I could tell they had another purpose of indoctrinating us to what our clan Elder's wanted us to believe making them unquestionable.
Some people can remember even before the age of 3, before I'd have thought that was abnormal, but among the Hyuga, it was rare for 3 year old's to not be able to recall recent or weekly events, but even the older kids and adults described vivid early memories to me when I asked that shocked me with their depth and quality of their details
Each and every one of us are on our own journey, but I'm certain the Hyuga's brains are somehow wired differently. I confess I don't know how to put it into words yet.
I wondered how other clans children thought and learned.
I knew comparison was a slippery slope, but so was the delusion of never breaking out of the box society wants us to conform to. Being able to see other options is huge to open up the imagination to new possibilities.
I wanted to know so bad, but my family forbade me from the freedom of exploration, and instead dictated my actions through any means necessary.
The Hyuga who despite being blessed with divine insightful vision, often neglected to look and then reassess the bigger picture. Instead they tunneled their vision while laboring to expand the system of control they were enslaved to.
Some saw the corruption and wanted to pretend it didn't exist, changing nothing in the process. Others needed more time before the ugly monster of corruption revealed itself to them. The rest cozied up to the beast and used it for their agenda.
My cousin's have no point of reference outside the clan, with no contrast. So how can they build a complete world view?
I always dreamed about unlocking and the manifestation of the Byakugan's true insight and power that everyone spoke of. Being able to see the flow of chakra through one's body, even mine, and really start unlocking the secrets to all these mysteries that call me to solve them.
Also— If you unlock your Byakugan, the clan will recognize you as nobility, giving you the 3rd most powerful position in the clan in terms of voting and influence.
The 2nd most powerful group are the elected Elders which have four chairs. They each have mentored many successful students and are a proven known entity that the masses of our clan champion and trust to fight for the families best interests.
The highest position of clan master, ranked first in importance, was held by Lord Hiashi. The spot could only be held by an heir of royal blood.
Except for 3 of the 4 Elder elects agreement, or a 75% consensus vote among them, nothing can stop Hiashi's will. His word was law until the cabinet of elected elders choose to repeal it.
I wasn't surprised, but even amongst the Hyuga my self awareness was noted before my first birthday, setting a record that smashed all prior in clan history.
Neuroplasticity is the ability of the brain to form and reorganize synaptic connections, especially in response to learning, experience, or following injury.
I was curious what happens in the case of a reincarnation when we are aware and critically thinking from birth… but I was starting to see the cogs move in action over my early years of life.
The window of rapid growth as a child shrinks and narrows over time, but with the right leverage, you can develop your body, spirit, and mind into an ultimate temple through wholistic connection.
Tools are used to perform work. Swords and shields are important tools, meant to protect the lives and ideals of men, women, and children. Being well versed in swordplay filled me with confidence and assurance that whatever challenge awaited me could be solved, but I couldn't specialize in only war.
The real tricky part is to be patient and non-aggressive in all times when peace can instead prevail. Often it matters a lot more what we DONT do rather than what we end up doing. Being able to say no at the right times sounds so simple, but in practice is incredibly hard.
Because I had experience from my previous life, everything new I learned now was from forming connections and attachments from relative older memories to the new ones. I realized quickly that the ability to learn new things got more and more difficult as I aged, which made me realize how important it is to expose myself to things I might have shrugged off in the past.
My mother refused to look me in the eye, or even acknowledge that I was her daughter. She would have forsaken the responsibility if allowed, but our clan forced her to accept her role.
When I went out of my way to take care of all the chores, there was no thanks. When I prepared dishes and food to eat, she would throw hers that I made in the compost bin with a expression of contempt and disdain.
I excelled in academic learning, such as math, science, and language, but no equational computations, numerical formulas, or array of words could get this woman to find happiness or fulfillment as my maternal figure.
When I dressed myself up to be cute, put on make-up like she did hers, or shared art I made of her that I thought was really good, but she wouldn't acknowledge my effort, and worse she would burn any gift I gave her after I was sent to bed for the night.
I would crawl onto my windowsill and watch her burn my drawings, my imitation jewelry, finished class paperwork with perfect marks, any of my letters or writings for the day, and…" what else was that? It better not been—" I grinded my teeth hoping I'd seen it wrong and jumped to conclusions.
I rushed to my secret spot, where I hid my achievement journal, but it was empty.
She burned my progress diary! Why can't she let me do things my way?! I know how I learn!
…
I laid in my bed and watched the ceiling fan twirl, and each revolution brought me closer to defusing my anger that I was holding onto. I kicked my blankets off and let the chill air soothe and caress my skin. After cooling down, I tried looking at the situation from my moms point of view, and I grew ashamed.
I'm an idiot. How did I even think I could hide something from the 'all seeing' Byakugan?
…
She already burned two of them before this, which is why I felt the need to hide my last one. I couldn't tell if she is only trying to make my life harder or if there is an intelligent plan afoot.
Every pure-blooded Hyuga is given a name that starts with H.
I wasn't an anomaly, but I was an outlier. Mother named me Mizuki which meant 'beautiful moon', but also meant I would never be treated as an equal in our family. My blood and heritage were impure. I would be stuck in the lower class beneath the sovereign who dictated their own destiny.
I could be 3rd class, the bare minimum to be considered nobility, but only if my Byakugan awoke. Even if that happened, I'd never be allowed to be a nominee to become an elder who as a 2nd class noble has regained their personal sovereignty by the removal of their caged bird seal infringing on their liberty.
Why? Not because I am now female, There is an active granny elder elect serving without issue. No, she can rise to that position because she's a pureblood Hyuga. I didn't have equal birthrights because of something that was still completely out of my control, and it had nothing to do with gender.
Things would be so much easier if mom and I got along better, and I know I've been trying, but maybe not hard enough.
My queen in this situation is 'preferring my own way'. If I offer the sacrifice of my queen, and instead honor my mom's wishes the way God recommends… Will I be allowed to capture the king? If I honor my Mom in the name of God's plan, Maybe that will get her to respect me and earn me a crumb of her affection.
Even in a better headspace, I began ruminating on all the suffering she put me through, and I clenched up my hands into fists.
Lord… will my mom ever love me?
No response came, and I pulled my covers back over me, drifting into sleep.
When I woke up, the first thing I did was instinctively reach for my journal, but last night's events flooded back to my brain, reminding me that I didn't have a journal anymore.
"Right…" I whispered.
She made me so mad sometimes. I swear she got off on destroying all the things I made.
It was frustrating trying to remember every little detail of a memory without a reference.
A reference enhances the recall of a stored memory. Even if the memories get buried beneath a pile of junk, if you have a reference, it adds organization and structure to the chaos of the workings of the mind.
When I first learned of the method, I considered it like a cheat code that made everything else click. It truly was an amazing tool, but it was so amazing it consumed me, and it became a crutch. I felt naked going into an unfamiliar situation, or without having any prepwork.
I know that preparation is important, but what about when reality calls and I have to be content making a play with the resources and experience I had? What if I didn't retreat to the comfort of imaginary 'what if' fantasies where I was Batman with infinite time to prepare?
That's a paradoxical thought, but is it really? I'll never be Batman. I'm Miriam the Prophet, and Mizuki Hyuga.
It wouldn't matter if we had infinite time if we don't use the time we are given effectively, making it meaningless anyways.
Or at least that's how I rationalize it.
What Mom wanted for me meant I'd have to change how I structured my life and thoughts, and no part of that was simple, fun, or easy.
Chains of associations linked together creating solid foundational knowledge for everything I believed. My faith and the word of God was the cornerstone of the foundation, and everything branched downward in importance after him.
I still loved logic, and math. Writing or drawing ideas through the lenses of stories felt magical, getting to shape those ideas into reality through my art gave me so much joy to work on and appreciation for the craft.
I guess Mom constantly burning my notes gave me a sense of urgency to just jump into things more.
I used to spend so much time in my head procrastinating until I could achieve some brilliant answer, but sometimes execution on a wrong assumption can teach us more than we'll ever learn running mental simulations with incorrect data. Sometimes the only way to know if something is wrong is to practically apply it through trials and tests.
No one would dare say my mom was a good parent, but ironically, she aided in my release of the death-grip on my other crutch of overthinking by not allowing me to mentally masterbate over my work in over-review. Now that I think of it, I would have never changed if not for her obliteration of my ego.
Maybe we are made to need each other, and she is the perfect mother for my mission of continued personal and spiritual development.
The more I worked on myself, the more I realized how I was almost inconsequentially small in comparison to my widening view of the bigger picture!
There are so many people on this big world, and I've somehow got to witness to everyone to offer them the choice of redemption. It's finally setting into my brain how much time I've spent investing to sway my Mom's view about me.
As hard as that has been, being a witness is even harder. Think about it. You are convincing someone to see that the path they're going down needs to change alongside their core philosophical beliefs, then after, they're supposed to acknowledge and admit to their faults, and finally then walk courageously in faith?
I'd argue nothing is harder than that.
Nurturing faith was the most complex puzzle, and I love challenges, but sometimes it seems so overwhelming and daunting.
I'd argue most talents can be cultivated within a 10,000 hour window of intentional practice and review.
All these years and all the knocking on my family's hearts has not produced fruit. It wasn't as fast or as easy as growing plants. To be able to make an impact on someone's religious beliefs takes charisma, knowledge, and execution of delivery at bare minimum.
Witnessing with the purpose of trying to get people to become aware of our Heavenly Father can produce the most wondrous fruit of all, the awakening of a person's faith.
How many talents did I have to master before I could use them to finally help someone's faith awaken?
Life is no joke, and treating it as one a second time would be the ultimate disgrace to all, but especially my Lord and myself.
A horrific fear chased and clawed at my ankles. It invigorated me to sprint through my life to make amends for when I was frozen in indecision so often before. I fought against my imposter syndrome and crippling feelings of inferiority. I believed if I took time to relax, that I would eventually be passed up by more naturally talented people and never have another chance to step into the spotlight and influence the world stage.
I'm happy I've moved forward, but I wasn't anywhere near content for where I saw my potential and where I was currently at.
I have an ability to narrow my focus and keep it narrowed to accomplish short term goals, but i've noticed more and more how many opportunities that's lost me.
Fluidity is important. An ability to adapt to unexpected problems, and still maintain a structure of order. It was time for me to make my next huge step forward.
Being able to understand that the only actions and thoughts I can truly influence are my own, and our best example of that is _ _'s —what?
A headache appeared and I rubbed my forehead and temples with my fingertips hoping it would help it go away, but it didn't.
Unlucky.
I fought with the prospect of fetching ice from the clan's banquet hall's attached kitchen, which was super close, and would provide instant relief for the headache.
I sat down on the sidewalk for a couple minutes before wishing the pain would go away, and after running the numbers for determining if taking of ice that would ultimately be melted could be viewed as theft, when the clan wastes tons of ice by letting it melt inside insulated chests. New ice will arrive and replace them in the morning.
Same end result.
After reasoning it out, I followed my heart.
I unlocked the door with My (shikatumaku?) by filling my bone in different arrangements to try pin combinations.
25 seconds later and bam! The locking mechanism was defeated.
I brought some leftover ice back home wrapped in a rag and laid it on my forehead as I laid down in my bed.
Lord, if we could just close out today and start again tomorrow it would be much appreciated.
I tossed and turned trying to get comfortable, but the melting ice water was beginning to soak everything and I struggled to smile through it.
I fell asleep, and was plagued by horrific nightmares. Unspeakable to repeat. They possessed wicked unthinkable terrors inside that no sane person should be exposed to.
When I woke up, then I got out of bed prostrating myself on the floor and jumping into prayer with God to beg for his favor after the haunting dreams.
Lord, please don't let those horrific visions I saw be visions of the future! Bring us away from those horrors and instead let us follow you.
The Demonic spirit Ba'al, who is promised Samael's worldly throne, and intent on throwing the world into the final days of revelations, infiltrated your dreams. You did excellent to remember that I am the truth and light that cures all delusions. Only together through teamwork did we break his possession.
…
I didn't know what to say. I was happy that I managed to stay on the right path, but sometimes, even when you're winning, depression creeps in and makes you feel like you're losing at the same time.
What was I supposed to do? Pretend like it never happened?
Even Hitler's memories were tame BY COMPARISON to the visions Ba'al showed me.
I WILL NEVER BE THE SAME…
"… What the f—-," I stopped myself.
I didn't want to take steps backwards and fall into regression.
My mind keeps getting tugged back to my view into the abyss. I was losing concentration on the task at hand and instead recalling the horrors from the unforgettable nightmares of the morning of June 6th. There were things that could never be unexperienced, but i wished I could forget and discard them from memory forever.
I learned later a meteor crossed into the atmosphere in the blackened early hours of the morning until approximately sunrise, when it exited orbit. Those were the same hours of the nightmares.
I swear, if not for my faith, I'm certain my soul would have been swallowed up. I was only saved by my faith to preserve and weather that tragic storm.
People already didn't want to listen to the grace of the Heavenly Father when I spoke about how awesome it was, so maybe bringing to light that nightmare would impact the public view of me, could bring on a worse image of me, which would extend to my God who I witness and profess is Lord.
I don't want to ruin it for everyone else just so I can pridefully boast how much angst and anguish I've experienced… the Lord already knows, and that is enough for me.
My progress diary or achievement journal, whatever you want to call it, it made organizing everything so easy. I could breeze through all of my objectives from start to finish without worrying if I was skipping over one, and even if I did, I just have to add a note and then every time I flipped through it I would have my reminder.
It gave me roots to build my day on, and knowing what I wanted done, when, came from understanding the micro and macro of life simultaneously, which was hard even with material to review, but without intentional review, I wouldn't have data to adjust my goals, thought processes, and schedule.
I couldn't believe no matter how hard I tried for her, Mom never gave me a chance. She never looked me eye to eye. I've always been beneath her.
Dear Lord, I know sometimes I stress too much over reviewing the details, but please let my Mom overcome what she's going through and come out the other side of it a better person, more primed to believe in you… and if you can Lord, please work with her so she can stop burning my personal stuff.
As if reminded that there is a bigger plan at play, one day after, it was my 3rd birthday, and to celebrate I received my Caged Bird cursed seal, a traumatic tradition that ensured my body would be enslaved to carry out the will of the family no matter what my mind had to say about it.
Why? Because I was not born an heir to the main branch. I was born into slavery.
They say that perspective makes all the difference, and I was determined to find a silver lining to this denial of my basic human rights.
I was not alone. My cousins also lost their freedom, and our ability to relate with one another as slaves gave us a unique relationship forged strong in our sympathy, but also tainted many with hatred towards our patriarch who stripped his own people of their humanity.
Because that hatred couldn't be directed at Hiashi, I became my family's favorite psychological punching bag. They directed their despair at me time and time again, and I understood why, it was because I spoke about our ultimate hope and never backed down from preaching the truth, even when confronted with opposition or consequences.
I wondered if, as flawed as my clan were, if they told the truth about both my dad and his clan?
Like sure they were savage brutes, but did that mean my Dad was as bad as everyone keeps telling me? I know plenty of conspiracy theories turn out to be real, so maybe there's a cover up going on.
I was doing a better job at honoring my mother, but I knew the Lord wanted me to honor both my mother and father. Only problem is I knew nothing about my dad.
Whenever he was brought up, people never went into the specifics, but everyone always said he was a demonic beast.
Maybe everyone made Mom abandon him, and every time she sees me, she's reminded of him, and it breaks her heart. I clearly had an effect on her, and I was hoping maybe giving her someone to talk to about it could help.
So I decided one night, I was too curious. I had to ask.
My mom came home late, and I could have opened a lot better in hindsight, and I was impatient because I'd been daydreaming thinking about it all day.
I found the courage to speak and opened my mouth. "Did you… ever love my Dad?" I asked with big puppy dog eyes.
Mom went white as a ghost. Her expression twisted with fear and terror, but then rewrote with the red of exasperation and wrath.
I was blindsided by a slap across my face that was so strong spit flew and splattered on the wall.
I was hit a second time, and then a third. It all happened so fast.
Her palm smacked my ass stupid in three nimble strikes charged with intense pre-existing emotional baggage.
"Don't ever mention your father in my presence again. —NOT EVER!" She bellowed.
Why did I say it …like that?! I scolded myself.
My fingers twitched as I coughed, and choked down my self-respect that tempted me to show her I wasn't defenseless, but I bit my tongue and sucked it up remembering my promise of the path of the righteous.
Talking about dad is a big no-no. Okay, I understand now.
"I'm sorry Mommy, I'll never ask again." I promised while sniffling.
I got the snot beat out of me, and despite it did hurt physically, the mental damage was strangling any feelings of confidence or worthiness in myself.
I felt 1 inch tall, like I could slip between the cracks in the floorboards and vanish from the world, and maybe it would be better without me.
There was only one good thing that came from the experience… When I mentioned Dad, that was the first time mom ever looked at me, and I realized why she refused to give me the eye contact that I craved and obsessed over.
It was because her icy stare saw into me and chilled my soul. Her glare was so full of hatred it had me questioning my purpose for existence.
Why am I alive, Lord?
….. What— I didn't mean that! I take it back, I know what I'm alive for, I was only disheartened.
Mom rushed to her room and slammed the door, locking it behind her, and broke down wailing like a broken maiden that didn't know how to pick up the pieces, gasping for air in between her muffled sobs.
I very much felt like a villain in that moment. I wished I approached the whole situation with way more tact.
She must be a victim of a terrible tragedy that has scarred her soul.
—- Author's Notes —-
Next chapter coming tomorrow 2/7/24, I plan on catching up back on schedule soon. YouTube videos will be on standby for a few more weeks, but those will return too. thanks for reading till the end!
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