The Blurry Line, Part II: Who’s Actually Talking?

Or, What I Learned from Meeting My Son’s Spirit Guide (Who Was… Me)

So here’s a question I come back to a lot:

What’s the difference between a spirit guide, a muse, a past self, an ancestor, or an archetype?

Sometimes the answer feels clear. Other times it feels like asking, “What’s the difference between a cousin, a sister, a godparent, and a best friend who knows you better than anyone else?”

They’re all relationships. The labels help — until they don’t.

That’s how it is for me, at least. These categories help my very human brain sort and organize the energies I’m interacting with. But once the relationship deepens, the boxes don’t always fit. A guide might feel like family. A goddess might turn out to be a fragment of my own soul. A demon might show up wearing one face and slowly reveal another.

And sometimes — like this one time in particular — they show up wearing my face.

A Quick Story About That Time I Met... Myself?

When my youngest son was around a year old, he started waking up at night in full-blown night terrors — screaming, flailing, inconsolable. I was bone-tired, running on fumes, desperate for sleep and some kind of answer so one night, after yet another round of terrors, I reached out — not physically, but energetically — and asked to speak to one of his guides.

So there I was, cradling my baby boy in the middle of the night in a dark room, exhausted and absent-mindedly rocking him back and forth while visualizing myself standing in an open space. There was suddenly a crowd of human silhouettes of various sizes and shapes standing back in the shadows and one of the shadows was slowly walking forward.

When she came out of the shadow and into what seemed like a dimly lit space, I was GOBSMACKED as I stared into MY face. She was me. A little older, hair a little longer and brushed off to one side, but she was undoubtedly me in appearance and in an energetic way that felt extremely familiar.

She told me that I was already doing everything I needed to do and that my baby would be fine. That this was a stage that he'd grow out of and that I'm already supporting him both in the physical world and, clearly by the presence of... Well... Me, in the spiritual world as well.

He did eventually grow out of his night terrors and he's incredibly in tune with energies even now as a 4 year old.

That moment cracked something open in me. It was the first time I really understood — not just intellectually, but viscerally — that I, too, am a spiritual being. That the love and energy I pour into my children, my art, and my practice exists on more than one plane.

I've spoken to her (me) a couple of times since then, prompted by worry over one thing or another - like when my son started preschool, or when a fever spiked and I needed reassurance beyond the thermometer. These lines of communication have been invaluable in helping me grow as a person both in spirit and in my physical body.

So… do the labels matter? Sometimes.

But also — not really.

What matters is what resonates. What reaches you. What helps you keep going.

The Message over The Messenger

Personally, I think the message matters infinitely more than the sender and from what I’ve experienced (which, to be fair, is just my unverified personal gnosis), most spirits seem to agree. The delivery system isn’t the sacred part — it’s the transmission. It’s the shift in you. The clarity, the comfort, the forward motion.

Would I love to always know exactly who’s talking? Sure. But even when I don’t, I can usually tell whether the message feels aligned. And that’s the part that sticks.

Magic in the Apothecary of the Mind

Fantasy — books, films, imagined worlds — has always been a doorway for me. A way to stock the shelves of my spiritual apothecary.

Think of it like this:

If spirit communicates using your memories, your emotional range, your cultural reference points — then the more you take in, the more ingredients are available.

Your inner library expands. Your metaphor shelf gets fuller. Your sacred language gets richer. Whether the source was “real” or fictional doesn’t matter — it’s usable.

And when you create something — be it a baby, a bracelet, a piece of art, or an entire character in your imagination — you’re engaging in the act of transformation. You’re taking energy, or material, or memory, and alchemizing it into something new. Something real.

In my completely biased opinion, creating is the magical part.

💬 Cauldron Prompt:

Have you ever met a guide that turned out to be… you?

Do your spiritual relationships fit into neat categories — or do they shift and blur over time?

What stories, books, or fictional characters have expanded your inner world?

Toss your thoughts in the Cauldron below. Especially the weird ones. The weird ones are usually the most magical. 🫖✨