The morning sun filtered softly through the curtains as I sat at the small wooden table, my notebook open but untouched. The words I wanted to write danced just beyond reach. Beside me, Ayanda watched quietly, her calm presence a steady force.
She was more than my girlfriend—she was a guide who had walked a path like mine, searching for answers in the spaces between spirit and reality. As a social worker, she healed wounds many couldn't see, but it was her own journey through the Crown Chakra that had first brought her peace.
"Sometimes," she said, tracing a finger along the rim of my cup, "the Crown is where it all connects—your ancestors, the universe, your true self. It's where your mind opens to the light beyond."
I looked up, curious. "How did you open yours?"
Ayanda smiled, a quiet strength shining in her eyes. "It wasn't easy. I had to surrender control, let go of the fear. Meditation, breathwork, prayer—tools to raise the energy from the base of my spine to the very top of my head. When I did, I felt everything become clear. My purpose, my healing, my connection."
I swallowed, thinking of the dreams that haunted me, the voice calling me unguMvelinqangi, and the promise from Gogo Nomusa to seek the mountain under the seventh moon.
"Maybe your writing," she said softly, "and your speaking are part of that journey. To share what we learn when the Crown opens—that's how we help others rise."
Later that afternoon, I stood before the community hall crowd, heart pounding. But Ayanda's words echoed inside me like a sacred drum.
"We carry the weight of our histories, the pain and the wisdom," I said, voice steadying. "But when we open the Crown Chakra—the gateway to divine knowledge—we remember that we are never alone. Our ancestors, our spirits, and the universe itself walk with us."
Applause rippled through the room. From the front row, Ayanda's smile was a light guiding me home.
That night, as I lay beneath the stars, I whispered a prayer to the Crown—ready to embrace whatever truth awaited on the mountain.