Dancers of the Shadow - The Making of a Child of Light
I do not remember a childhood that was out of the ordinary, except my mother tells me I could see 'lights' around people, and talked to 'imaginary' friends, from a very early age. I also hummed and sang my own music starting in my crib. That is something that I have noticed over the years, that there is always music, or gentle silence, in my head where other people have a continuous monologue.
There is a photo of me that shows a 'haunted' child at the age of four. I must have been very different for I frightened my father and he demanded of my mother that I 'stop'. This I did, denying all the odd things I could do in my need to be loved and accepted. I spent many years trying to be like everyone else. It is the same story that many people tell, conformity for various reasons, mine was my sense of being safe.
When I was nine years old I was expelled from Methodist Sunday School for arguing with the teacher. It was a memorable experience mainly because I was so sure that she was wrong. The Lesson was about a judgmental God, and the God I knew within myself, in my fierce and fiery nine-year-old way, was a kind and good person who loved and trusted me. Man wrote the Bible, I said. The teacher's answer was that I was too young to know who wrote the Bible, or the true nature of God, but I believe that children are closer to spirit than adults can be without help. We forget as we grow older and become enmeshed into the physical world.
So the God of my memory is loving and trusted me, and the lessons we learn from Samael are seldom about trust.
My personal journey was not one about trust either. My environment was not one conducive to love of self and trusting the grown-ups; it was confusing and frustrating and I harboured a deep sense of guilt. From the time I was old enough to speak for myself I searched for God in many houses of religion, but never found 'him'. I went from church to church, often with my friends, wanting to find a 'missing' part of myself and the Methodist experience was one of many confrontations I had with ministers. In the end I chose to avoid all churches and look for God elsewhere. It took a long time, and the help of the angels, to find it within myself. I was a little lost soul hunting a far memory.
Three events persist of that shadow time. The first is when I was twelve. Two friends and I decided to create an ouija board in my bedroom. We made it with paper letters, a glass and a ring. We touched our fingers to the top of the glass and it moved. It answered innocent childhood questions. The initials of the man I would marry, which later proved to be correct, and other nonsensical things. And then a change happened. The girls were laughing but I found I couldn't move. I could hardly breathe - short sharp breathes. I was overwhelmed by a sense of dread and could not remove my fingers from the glass. Even after the others had taken theirs off, I was still trapped. I became aware of a huge 'sense' of presence, and a sickening feeling of satisfaction washed over me. Then words flowed through, 'I know you'. 'You know me'? I whimpered, suddenly terrified, and this alerted the other girls who were still giggling. One of them went for my mother. She saw what we had done, and the state I was in, and went for her Bible - and her faith freed me. She prayed over me. Light against Darkness. And the Light will always win in the end. But I also believe that the entity, which I had no conscious understanding of then, was only acknowledging me.
And the child of twelve sat and shivered, hugging herself, while the other girls ran off to some new task - and she stayed away from ouija boards.
The second memory I have is on a more lighter note, though the circumstances leading up to it were challenging. I was seventeen and heart-broke, feeling unloved and unwanted and unable to cope in the world. I laid down in my bed one night and said to 'God', "I am not sure you exist, but if you do, you better help me. Because if you don't I will kill myself". And I meant it. Life had become too hard.
Softly I left my body for the first time, with this odd awareness that knew I still lay there. I was taken to a green place, an open plain high in the mountains with grass and trees and a creek at the bottom of the hill - and I walked down the hill talking to a man who was small framed, Mediterranean in colouring, with the clearest brown eyes I had ever seen. He told me life was not easy, but it was worth fighting for; and asked me to hang on, to keep trying. And he told me that he Loved me and that was breathtaking. And because I could feel it and the peace it bought me, I agreed. I then found myself back in my body, lying in bed, with someone standing at the head of the bed with their hands on either side of my forehead soothing my tired, over-stressed young mind. The logical part of me knew that the head of the bed was tucked into the corner of the room and the 'person' had to be standing in the wall, but that wasn't important as I drifted into sleep, the best sleep I had had all my life - for sleep to me was blinking out and coming back into my body exhausted, it had always been that way.
When I woke up in the morning I wasn't a changed person. I still had too much energy and didn't know how to deal with it, but I had a sense of courage and a determination to keep trying to live my life. The situation around me didn't change much but I coped with it better and began a slow journey into independence, out of the restrictions that I had allowed to be placed around my spiritual nature by my family. I went to business college, got a job as a secretary, married young and had kids.
At twenty-seven and far away from the seventeen year old, I was helping people to understand themselves better without any formal training in counselling. I would introduce people to the concept of a non-judgmental God, and the possibility of beings in spirit that truly loved us. In my heart I also knew of beings that didn't, but I would seldom mention them. I had not yet learned to live with the amount of energy I could produce, which created great stress inside me, but I thought I would one day. I was a housewife and a salesperson, but most of the house parties turned into spiritual discussions, though I made a living. One day the stress became too much and I broke down and took a break from the world in my home. I stayed in that state, not wanting to interact with anyone, for three months until the pattern changed again, and I woke up with a clear voice saying 'We shall never do this again'. That is the first time I heard my guardian angel, and I heard it loud and clear.
'We shall never do what again?' I remember asking as I got up to start my day. 'We shall never do 'what' again?' It took me almost all day to realise that something had changed within me. I was perfectly happy to go out and visit people again, and shop and do all the ordinary things I did, but my desire to be 'normal' was gone, I was suddenly curious about everything esoteric. A subject I had avoided all my life.
At the age of twenty seven I gave up pretending that I couldn't 'hear' clairaudiently, that I couldn't 'see' clairvoyantly, that I couldn't sense the energy changes in the small town I was safe in. I began to work as a ghostbuster and healer of earth energies, to make the world more comfortable for me to live in, and I picked up my journey to find 'God'. At twenty-nine, with half the local church up-in-arms that I would dare to be confirmed, I chose to become Anglican. I had many interesting discussions with the minister who tutored me, including the one that convinced the Bishop it was ok to confirm me even though I believed in reincarnation. During the blessing, the night before the Confirmation, he prayed the exorcism ceremony over my bent head, while the minister looked on in embarrassed fury. I only laughed. After that the Bishop could not deny me my connection to 'something', and it wasn't demonic. I left the church soon after, after an interesting discussion with the minister looking at an issue that will always be very close to my heart - the season of Easter.