Saints and Wizards: Mary Magdalene and the Magical Underground
Truth is Stranger than Fiction and Everything is Relative.
~ World’s Greatest Understatements
I became conscious of death, as a phenomenon, though I am not sure how or why that awareness came. I was four years old and obsessed with the purpose of incarnation and the nature of reality. If we die, then why do we live?
The irrational avoidance of the obvious on the part of grownups around me did not bode well. Whenever I posed the ‘big questions’ to the adults to which I had access, their anxious evasion sounded an alarm that echoed like dark ripples on a bottomless pool: I was alone.
I had never heard of reincarnation but instinctively understood that was the deal. This certainty arose together with the urgent sense that it was extremely important to remember my own incarnational history. In order to live the life upon which I was then embarking, such memories were imperative. I was SUPPOSED to remember and it drove me insane that I could not – those memories were just out of reach, behind a barrier that I could almost see around, but not enough for clarity or satisfaction.
I imagined traveling the globe, collecting all of the bones from all of the bodies I had ever dwelt within and gathering them all into a giant bone pile, which I would sit and contemplate.
Family photos from those days reveal no more than the trusting smile of a four-year-old girl, with big eyes and baby fat and patent leather Mary-Janes (I was crazy about those! Had a pair in red!) but I was up against an existential wall. Half conscious yearnings lept like phantom flames from the embers of my secret heart; images of ‘my people’ arriving to take me to their sacred place where wise, familiar souls understood, who would teach and know me.
That did not happen.
So I searched within. For a period of time – it is difficult to say how long it was – surely days, maybe weeks, I engaged in a profoundly concentrated sort of walking prayer. Enjoying our wild, over-grown and spacious backyard in early summer, I paced around and around and around, casting a line – fishing for ‘signs of intelligent life in the Universe;’ looking for contact, for sanity, for knowledge, for confirmation.
One evening, as my mother sang in her exquisite Welsh soprano while preparing supper, I wandered, in the course of my inner questing, up the hill and stopped, facing the rock garden she had planted near the fence separating our yard from the neighbors’. I’d been deep in prayer, this ‘walking supplication,’ the psychic radar scan which was my laser focus during that pivotal season of my fourth year.
Half in a trance, I stood facing South after the sun had set – the time of no shadows – when my intense efforts paid off. I got a bite on the cosmic line I had been casting out into the Ocean of Eternity.
As I stood, that blessed evening, facing the rock garden and wire fence and the Forrestie’s adjacent yard beyond, suddenly what felt like something of a cone descend over my head and shoulders, while simultaneously I rose up in a sort of elongation into that cone of energy. I was entirely ‘me’ – as adult as I will ever be – that I was in a four-year-old body was irrelevant; the moment was outside of linear time and personality. As I rose into the cone, or it descended over me, I received a message, a communication that can only be translated as a resounding affirmation, a transcendent ‘YES,’ that built into a rising crescendo; a climax of knowing, of contact, of positive reassurance and promise. During that defining moment I was entirely immersed in this silent thunder. Yes, yes, yes, yes! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYES YES!!!!!!!!
The power peaked and ceased, the cone withdrew and I came ‘back down’ into my normal size and awareness. I was ecstatic and excited and relieved and inspired and forever married to the loving source of that essential blessing.
Two decades later I met the beings who made contact with me that day.
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