Monday, January 17, 2011
All Along the Watchtowers
Being a mystic is such a weird lifestyle, especially right now in history, right here in Washington DC. Yesterday, for instance, I heard a voice, encountered a huge, super bright angel, and received several very helpful revelations. You would never have known all this was happening if you'd been watching me on a Reya-cam. I heard the voice while walking to work, received the revelations mostly between clients, encountered the angel in the middle of a session. The tears that welled up during the angelic encounter could have been interpreted as a moment of empathy for my client, maybe, or a brief allergic reaction to something. I am so good at pretending I'm normal. It has taken years of practice, though.
It was the day of my first initiation as priestess that I began hearing voices, after an amazing dream of removing layer after layer of earplugs I didn't know I was wearing (in the dream). For almost a year after that, when I heard the voice, I would ask others around me, "Did you hear that?" All you really have to do is see the looks on people's faces in response to a question like that in order to shut the hell up, fast.
I sought the advice of a psychotherapist to make sure I wasn't totally off the deep end. She asked such great questions, such as, "Does the voice command you?" Nope. "Does the voice suggest that you act destructively towards yourself or others?" Never. Just the opposite, in fact. "Can you distinguish the difference between the mystical voice and the voices of humans?" Uh - yeah! Of course. The therapist pronounced me a modern-day mystic, perhaps a few chips short of a fish dinner, but harmless. Whew.
What the voice said yesterday was, Auschwitz will heal you. Wow. I've been watching a seven part BBC series on the history of Auschwitz, part of my preparation for the trip to Krakow, Poland later this year. It's actually very interesting and has only made me want to throw up once or twice. Auschwitz will heal you. That was all I heard, but it made me think about my work with the American Civil War battlefields, how I went to those disturbed places thinking I needed to bring healing there. It was a big mistake, believe me. Reya vs. Gettysburg, for instance, or Manassas or Frederickburg? Ummm ... total disasters. What if I had approached the battlefields simply and humbly, as a person wanting to understand and thereby be healed instead of thinking of myself as The Great and Mighty Healer? Hmm.
One of yesterday's clients is Ukrainian. She was at Auschwitz a couple of years ago. She told me a lot of the buildings have been removed, that it's more like a memorial within a marshy field of open land, that the energy is dissipating. She said the Holocaust Museum here in DC is much creepier.
It was after she left and the next client was on the table that the angel appeared in the corner of the treatment room. He pronounced loudly, in a voice that sounded like a bell, that I would be well protected if I decide to visit Auschwitz. This dude was big and mighty, almost burly, if indeed angels can be burly. I have no reason to doubt his promise.
Ah the lifestyle of modern-day mysticism. Weird? Yes, definitely - but at least it's not boring.