Why I Left
I began to feel a pull to return to Christianity in May of 2017. I was wary of returning to the Catholic Church and unsure about Christianity in general so I decided to ask God for a sign.
I prayed a lot that week and on Saturday, the 22nd of May, 2017, I prayed more.
The next day I went to the flea market as I did most Sundays. I had forgotten to stop at the ATM on the way and had only eight dollars with me, which was much less than I usually brought. But I didn't really care. It was raining - a slow steady kind of rain that promised to continue all day - and I didn't expect there would be many vendors or much of anything to buy.
When we pulled into the parking lot I saw that I was right about the vendors. The large open area that was usually full of tables and tents was practically empty. The few sellers who had set up were spread out and the gravel lot was full of puddles. But we decided to put on our slickers and see what we could find.
One of the first things I spotted was a chalkware Blessed Mother. For some reason I couldn't really explain, I'd been wanting one of those big old Mary statues for some time. Over the course of the last two summers I'd kept an eye out. But all those I'd seen were chipped or expensive or both.
The one in front of me that day was almost two feet tall and had no significant damage. So I was surprised when the woman on the other side of the table said it was mine for five dollars. It wasn't really my style but I liked the blue of Mary's cloak and the graceful curve of her neck. I bought it without any negotiation at all.
A little further on, I saw a cold cast bronze St. Brigid's cross that had been made in Ireland. I asked the vendor the price and he said a quarter. And then, when I couldn't find any change, he refused my dollar and insisted I take the cross for free. I was happy that I was able to tell the a bit about St. Brigid and what she had done so long ago in Ireland. And I started to get a good feeling about the day.
The next thing I saw was a bright silver crucifix shining through the rain, When I got close I could see that it had a glass holy water font and a place on either side of the cross for candles. I thought that the seller would probably want at least ten dollars for such a nice item, but she didn't. She wanted three. So I got the crucifix too.
On the long damp ride home, I realized that I had bought three Christian items on an unlikely day and for a surprisingly good price. But what struck me most was that I had bought all three of them for the exact to the penny amount of money that I had with me.
So I considered it sign. And decided that I should give Christianity another shot.
I started with a church tour of several local churches. Afterwards I picked an evangelical church that was not a good fit and then a Pentecostal church I liked better. I didn't spend any real time thinking about the Catholic church I had visited in the early days of the church tour or the fact that each of the items I bought that day at the fleas market were Catholic in origin.
Until, almost three years later, just after my return from Israel.
It began with car problems. Getting to the new Protestant church I had joined was impossible. Finally, after several weeks, it occurred to me that there were two churches within a short walk of my house and that one was actually just a block and a half away.
So I walked down the street and went to Mass for the first time in what seemed like forever. And the next week I went back and I just kept on going.
As the weeks passed, I thought about the spiritual journey I'd made and the enormous circle that has brought me back to a place that is, and always was, just around the corner.
The items I bought that day at the flea market are gone and I know that there is some kind of lesson in that. And while I'm still not sure just what that is, I think that it might be that God doesn't want me to be the kind of Catholic I used to be. Or the kind of person I used to be.
I think that maybe he wants me to be something new.
I prayed a lot that week and on Saturday, the 22nd of May, 2017, I prayed more.
The next day I went to the flea market as I did most Sundays. I had forgotten to stop at the ATM on the way and had only eight dollars with me, which was much less than I usually brought. But I didn't really care. It was raining - a slow steady kind of rain that promised to continue all day - and I didn't expect there would be many vendors or much of anything to buy.
When we pulled into the parking lot I saw that I was right about the vendors. The large open area that was usually full of tables and tents was practically empty. The few sellers who had set up were spread out and the gravel lot was full of puddles. But we decided to put on our slickers and see what we could find.
One of the first things I spotted was a chalkware Blessed Mother. For some reason I couldn't really explain, I'd been wanting one of those big old Mary statues for some time. Over the course of the last two summers I'd kept an eye out. But all those I'd seen were chipped or expensive or both.
The one in front of me that day was almost two feet tall and had no significant damage. So I was surprised when the woman on the other side of the table said it was mine for five dollars. It wasn't really my style but I liked the blue of Mary's cloak and the graceful curve of her neck. I bought it without any negotiation at all.
A little further on, I saw a cold cast bronze St. Brigid's cross that had been made in Ireland. I asked the vendor the price and he said a quarter. And then, when I couldn't find any change, he refused my dollar and insisted I take the cross for free. I was happy that I was able to tell the a bit about St. Brigid and what she had done so long ago in Ireland. And I started to get a good feeling about the day.
The next thing I saw was a bright silver crucifix shining through the rain, When I got close I could see that it had a glass holy water font and a place on either side of the cross for candles. I thought that the seller would probably want at least ten dollars for such a nice item, but she didn't. She wanted three. So I got the crucifix too.
On the long damp ride home, I realized that I had bought three Christian items on an unlikely day and for a surprisingly good price. But what struck me most was that I had bought all three of them for the exact to the penny amount of money that I had with me.
So I considered it sign. And decided that I should give Christianity another shot.
I started with a church tour of several local churches. Afterwards I picked an evangelical church that was not a good fit and then a Pentecostal church I liked better. I didn't spend any real time thinking about the Catholic church I had visited in the early days of the church tour or the fact that each of the items I bought that day at the fleas market were Catholic in origin.
Until, almost three years later, just after my return from Israel.
It began with car problems. Getting to the new Protestant church I had joined was impossible. Finally, after several weeks, it occurred to me that there were two churches within a short walk of my house and that one was actually just a block and a half away.
So I walked down the street and went to Mass for the first time in what seemed like forever. And the next week I went back and I just kept on going.
As the weeks passed, I thought about the spiritual journey I'd made and the enormous circle that has brought me back to a place that is, and always was, just around the corner.
The items I bought that day at the flea market are gone and I know that there is some kind of lesson in that. And while I'm still not sure just what that is, I think that it might be that God doesn't want me to be the kind of Catholic I used to be. Or the kind of person I used to be.
I think that maybe he wants me to be something new.
Why I Returned to the Blog (2024 Update)
That new thing didn't happen right away however.
I explored a range of Christian traditions, finally returning to Catholicism. But I had trouble reconciling my past spiritual experience with the faith. So it made sense to return to the Mystic Review.
While Christianity will always be meaningful to be, my current interests focus on dreamwork, Jungian psychology, and parapsychology. I hope this will be of interest.
 |
| My rainy day flea market Mary |
 |
| Another flea market Mary that I have kind of sadly given away |
 |
| St. John's (our town's "Irish" church) complete with spires |
Bought a big pile of old magazines at an estate sale with the original Life Magazine shot of the pic above (Life shot is a little different). She made a beautiful fortune teller, didn't she?
 |
| Photo by Ben Wicks on Unsplash |
One of the first unusually vivid dreams I can recall was a dream I had in high school.
In this odd, but memorable dream, a single bright section of an orange transformed into a tiny infant right before my eyes. At the mall a few days later, I saw an album in a record store window. On its cover was a dreamy sort of image of a baby. The name of the album was Tangerine Dream.
I made the connection and bought it on the spot.
Later, listening to my new album through my headphones, I had a vision. In it, a group of men in dark robes were trudging up a hill. Behind them, a grove of trees had been cut down, and on each stump a man had been beheaded.
I had an interest in King Arthur from an early which may be why I recognized the men as Druids. Given that interest, I'm sure a lot of people would just chalk a vision like that up to imagination, but because I have aphantasia visions are few and far between for me (and those I do have are not deliberately self-generated). So it was unusual for me to see any kind imagery in any state.
What really got my attention however was the emotion I felt.
The scene was grisly, but I wasn't the least bit horrified. Instead, as the hauntingly beautiful music built to its crescendo, I felt a bittersweet sense of loss. I understood those retreating figures. I knew their way of life was ending and that loss moved me.
It wasn't until many years later, that my interest in Celtic spirituality would move me to become a member of the OBOD (Order of Bards, Ovates and Druids).
Did my dream and the resulting vision predict this interest? Or is there something genetic that travels downstream through time that speaks to us? Or is it only coincidence?
That is the mystery.
____________You can visit the OBOD website at Druidry.org
 |
| A beautiful picture taking on a truly perfect day. Even if I didn't see it then. Next time I will. |
Today is Sunday, January 1st, 2017.
Today is number one of seven.
Today is number one of twelve.
Today is number one of thirty-one.
Today is the first day of 2017 and 2017 is 2 + 0 + 1 + 7 = 10. And numerologically 10 is 1 + 0 = 1. Making today number one of the next ten years.
And because I was born in 1957, today is the first day of the first year in the sixth decade of my life.
So, because I wanted to be ready, it made sense to me to wake up today, at 4 AM, and make coffee and open up my journal. Not the new journal, I'd bought in honor of the new year, mind you. But the old the journal I'd begun in Fall of 2016 because in that journal there were 24 empty pages remaining.
So, because I wanted to be ready, it made sense to me to wake up today, at 4 AM, and make coffee and open up my journal. Not the new journal, I'd bought in honor of the new year, mind you. But the old the journal I'd begun in Fall of 2016 because in that journal there were 24 empty pages remaining.
The new journal was right there next to my chair and the pull of starting fresh was strong. My first inclination was to close the old journal and turn my back on the old year and the season past and make a new start. But those 24 empty pages called to me. And I realized that it wasn't about wasting paper. It was about a space that had to be acknowledged.
That space between the old and the new is always the same for me and, whenever I encounter it, I'm reminded of a trapeze artist, letting go of the old bar and hurtling through thin air in the direction of the new one. I think of how everyone always has to let go of whatever it is we've been holding onto and trust - even though there is no hard guarantee that the next thing will be there when we need it.
Leading up to that space I worry about what will happen and think long and hard about how it can all go wrong. But once I'm in it, the uncertainty and fear fade. All at once I remember how vitally important that space is. In and of itself.
It is not the space of letting go, although in those 24 no longer empty journal pages I did just that. And it isn't the space of moving forward, either, even though towards the end of those 24 pages I did that too.
Instead, it is a space that is moving and still and empty and full all at the same time. It is a space of courage and of faith. A space of transition. A space where anything is possible and everything is in is motion.
So I encourage everyone to take stock of what was, by most accounts, a very trying year. I encourage everyone to sort it out and let it go and make that jump. I encourage everyone to embrace the space between what was and what will be. Because that space is freedom.
This year I realized that I have been lying about my favorite season for years. The blazing glory of Northeast Pennsylvania fall foliage aside, my favorite season is not autumn. It is winter.
Hope is a commitment we make to ourselves. There is something about the darkness this season brings, something about the way it almost overpowers the light, that helps us see just how much that light means. I believe that this is why we light yule logs and Menorahs and Christmas lights.
The contrast between indoor coziness and exterior misery has something to do with this, I'm sure. But the real reason I love winter is because of the absolute clarity that this time of year brings. It is a clarity that doesn't come from books or journaling or other people. It is a clarity that comes straight from the source.
And here is an example. Standing on the edge of my snow covered lawn, I hear a crow call from the woods and a moment later another responds and even before the words come, I know something I didn't know before.
A few years ago I came in from another cold lawn and wrote that it takes determination to make a go of winter in Northeast PA. But the truth is that it takes more than determination - it takes hope. And just now, out in the wet snow, I realized something I should have figured out a long time ago.
Hope is a commitment we make to ourselves. There is something about the darkness this season brings, something about the way it almost overpowers the light, that helps us see just how much that light means. I believe that this is why we light yule logs and Menorahs and Christmas lights.
Because in the midst of darkness, we need to remember that light is hope and that hope is a promise we must keep.
This year, a relationship I used to believe in is in trouble and people I care about are trying to make their way through a very difficult holiday. Words are my gift but in this words have failed me.
So I light a candle and I remind myself that even if no one else can see it right now that's okay because there are times when they did and there will be times when they will again.
And I know that, eventually, we will all get a chance to keep that flame going and that this year it is my turn to hold the light.
For me, one synchronicity is never enough. So I always set an intention to receive three.
The last intention I set was about my book. Not the "Be Your Own Card Reader" ebook that pretty much wrote itself but the big book - the full-length nonfiction book on energetic beings and the messages they share.
Writing this book has been challenging for me. While, the the information is there, putting it into context has been surprisingly hard.
There are a lot of reasons why this is the case. One has to do with the way I receive my information. For me, communication comes spontaneously most of the time whether it comes in dreams, waking visions or inner voice communications. As a general rule, I do not do Q & A style channeling sessions.
On one hand, I like receiving these out of nowhere communications. Allowing the information to drop in spontaneously means that there is very little of me in it and to me that is validating. But operating in the manner means that I don't get an answer to every question. And there has been a question I needed answered.
It was where is this information coming from? And who are my guides exactly?
It was where is this information coming from? And who are my guides exactly?
They are real to me because the experience they share is evidential. By this I mean that it checks out. And the info they have given me on themselves checks out too. I have learned things from them about history and geography and mythology that I just plain didn't know before they told me.
I needed to know. So I asked. And three synchronicities followed.
The first synchronicity came at the last place I would have expected - the October MUFON UFO conference in Philadelphia PA. In a way it was odd that I even ended up at the convention. I don't remember how I heard about it. But somehow I knew that I had to go.
Sitting in the audience, I was surprised to hear that while many of the speakers did think of extraterrestrials in the traditional 3D way, others saw them as energetic beings trying to help the planet earth.
This struck a chord because, just a few weeks earlier I'd received a specific and completely out of the blue message about extraterrestrial beings. In that message, I was told that as highly advanced beings ETs have the ability to appear to us as energy beings and that they have been doing this since the very beginning.
On the long ride home, it occurred to me that, my message and the convention information I'd heard had created my first synchronicity.
This struck a chord because, just a few weeks earlier I'd received a specific and completely out of the blue message about extraterrestrial beings. In that message, I was told that as highly advanced beings ETs have the ability to appear to us as energy beings and that they have been doing this since the very beginning.
On the long ride home, it occurred to me that, my message and the convention information I'd heard had created my first synchronicity.
My next experience involved a very trustworthy friend who shared her own personal extraterrestrial experience, explaining that it was something she never talks about but decided to share with me after reading something I'd posted. Her experience was seemingly 3D but she experienced energetic communication as well.
I was touched by her courage and impressed by her absolute credibility. It occurred to me that of all the accounts I have heard this was completely believable to me because I knew and trusted the person involved. This, I realized, was synchronicity number two.
I was touched by her courage and impressed by her absolute credibility. It occurred to me that of all the accounts I have heard this was completely believable to me because I knew and trusted the person involved. This, I realized, was synchronicity number two.
The third synchronicity happened when my friend Tara dropped by unexpectedly to exchange tarot readings.
One of the cards that came up when she read for me was the Hermit card. As Tara looked at the card, she had a vision of a red Merkaba star and clearly saw red lines transporting the energy from one point to the next. A few moments, later she pulled a card from the Doreen Virtue Ascended Master deck that had a very similar image.
One of the cards that came up when she read for me was the Hermit card. As Tara looked at the card, she had a vision of a red Merkaba star and clearly saw red lines transporting the energy from one point to the next. A few moments, later she pulled a card from the Doreen Virtue Ascended Master deck that had a very similar image.
A Merkaba, as you may know, is considered to be an energetic vehicle capable of transporting someone to the higher dimensions by some - or an alien space craft by others. That both these concepts are represented by the Merkaba mirrored the information I'd already received.
Oddly, this is where all of this began for eight years ago. First I met my guides in the dream I call the Spirit Dream. Then I began to have experiences I could not explain. When I began to read New Age and channeled material those experiences intensified.
For me, however, there was too much about the New Age approach that felt a lot like imagination. I didn't want imagination. I wanted the truth and for me the truth has high standards. Now I can see that I wasn't wrong to have standards. I was just wrong to feel like I couldn't deal with so-called New Age concepts in my own way.
So here I am. Having come full circle, right back to the place that I started from in 2008, thinking about Pleiadians and Sirians and ancient aliens and angelic beings and energetic communication and DNA activation and all of that crazy stuff. Except that it isn't crazy. It's real.
And I guess it's taken that long for me to get to a place where I have the courage to believe, and write about, something that a lot of people don't understand or might even make fun of. Good for me.
* To read more about the Hermit please see the following post on my favorite tarot card: Happy World Tarot Day: Please Pick a Card!
Oddly, this is where all of this began for eight years ago. First I met my guides in the dream I call the Spirit Dream. Then I began to have experiences I could not explain. When I began to read New Age and channeled material those experiences intensified.
For me, however, there was too much about the New Age approach that felt a lot like imagination. I didn't want imagination. I wanted the truth and for me the truth has high standards. Now I can see that I wasn't wrong to have standards. I was just wrong to feel like I couldn't deal with so-called New Age concepts in my own way.
So here I am. Having come full circle, right back to the place that I started from in 2008, thinking about Pleiadians and Sirians and ancient aliens and angelic beings and energetic communication and DNA activation and all of that crazy stuff. Except that it isn't crazy. It's real.
And I guess it's taken that long for me to get to a place where I have the courage to believe, and write about, something that a lot of people don't understand or might even make fun of. Good for me.
* To read more about the Hermit please see the following post on my favorite tarot card: Happy World Tarot Day: Please Pick a Card!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Translate
Social Icons