When you have a name like Sage, people often ask if it’s a nickname or a birth name. They’re also pretty curious about whether it’s descriptive of your character. In my case, my multiply syllabic birth name was replaced after thirty years with the name that came for me through the ethers.
You’re probably wondering now what the heck I’m talking about.
I came into the world differently than other kids: my mom experienced a medical emergency during my birth so my first six months was spent in my grandmother’s arms while my mother recovered. But, even as my mom regained her strength, the things that made me different than other children didn’t lessen but instead increased. As a baby I was happier in my crib, seeming to find joy in the unseen, my mother often suggesting I was “watching the angels dance.” By the time I went to school at four years old, it was clear that my world extended far beyond what other people could see and hear. It wasn’t long before there was no other explanation for the information that I could access than clairvoyance.
Being a sage came naturally for me. That doesn’t mean that it was easy.
Kids are hesitant around children who see and hear the unseen. Teachers are at a loss with what to do with a student who simply channels the answers to the tests and learns things lightning fast. Parents are beyond their pay grade with a child who sees and hears everything- even when it hasn’t been written or spoken. Being that different is isolating, until you can find your people.
It took me more than thirty years and tremendous trauma and heartache to find my people. And, when I was finally able to communicate and resonate with those with special skill sets like mine, the core of who I am rose to the surface. I opened a healing center with sixteen like-minded clinicians and reveled in the sanctuary we created. Every morning, I saged the center wanting every day to be a healthy clean slate. Like a phoenix, I rose from the ashes of an unhealthy, joyless life and stepped into the extraordinary intuitively-driven experience that has become my world.
At thirty-four, I left an unfulfilling marriage and headed to Thailand, desperate to find the self that I had lost. I began to see images while awake and in my dream state of a kanji, in a language unknown to me. I made efforts to sketch the image but could never get it right. After two weeks traveling around Thailand, I made my way back to Bangkok and while entering a hotel spotted a billboard, prominently displaying the kanji. I quickly asked the concierge what the kanji meant and she shook her head and told me that it wasn’t in Thai. Wanting to be of assistance, she took a photo of the symbol and emailed it to several linguists in Asia. Weeks after my return to the States, I received a translation. In an ancient Chinese script, the kanji could be translated to “the sage.”
Shortly therafter, I legally changed my name to embrace what came to me naturally and through the tweenspace.
But, as Shakespeare said, “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” Being Sage isn’t just about a name.
Being sage is about amassing and accessing wisdom. It is about surviving childhood trauma and assault. It is about surviving an auto accident that left me brain-injured, recovery from which took two decades. It is about surviving violence. It is about surviving loss. It is about returning from the dead eight times following cardiac arrest.
Being sage isn’t about victimhood. Becoming sage required that I acknowledge my post-traumatic growth. The wisdom emanates from having been there and from finding my way back home.
Let me share with you the wisdom that has come to me. Let me shine my light on anything you cannot yet see for yourself. Allow me to continue to grow from all that I have experienced by offering what I have learned through this kaleidoscope of a life, to you.
