A Brief Spiritual History

Before you read this blog, think on this: If you have nothing nice to say when commenting on it, don't say anything at all. Some of you will understand where I'm coming from and some of you will try to smash a Bible over my head. If you are intending on the latter please don't comment on this blog. Or better yet, don't read it. I will delete the comments I find offensive.

That said, I'm sorry this is long, but it's the best I could do for a "brief" history:

When I was fourteen I experienced a “spiritual awakening”. I can’t really explain what happened. All I know is that one day, as I was lost in thought, I suddenly realized what I wanted to do with my life. I knew that I wanted to be a writer, or some other kind of artist, but that seems so insignificant now. It was like the simple knowing of seeing a road ahead of me opened me up somehow to higher things. I saw the world in this new light and it was alive, beautiful and, well, spiritual. It was as if a veil lifted and I could see the spiritual world and the physical. My heart opened and overflowed.

I had always known, without a doubt, that there was a higher being, a Creator, someone who understood me and loved me. Being brought up a Christian (though a rather nontraditional one) I identified this being as God. I had often felt His presence strongly when I was in church, but not because I listened to the sermon. It was because I was still and listened to that Presence that I could not ignore. The goings-on of the church service meant nothing to me and I assumed they weren’t particularly thrilling to God either since He was obviously wrapped up in a conversation with me.

So when I had this “spiritual awakening” I felt again that Presence, only this time I wasn’t in a church. It was with me all the time. My eyes were opened to the natural world around me and I saw something more beautiful and more spiritual than any church building. I saw Nature. I talked to God through all things that grew, especially trees. I talked to God through the stars, the sun and the moon. However, when I say I “talked” to God I mean that I communed. My words were few, but the language of my heart I let flow towards this Great Spirit. I truly began to believe in magic.

My sister and our close friend became interested in the world of fairies and soon my spiritual tie to the Earth and the Divine took on a more solid outline. We walked any forest we could, calling out fairy chants and leaving gifts of flowers and sweet cakes and drinks, hoping for a glimpse of one of our winged friends. Through this we learned patience, concentration and quietness. We learned how to blend in with the Earth, to feel one with it. Though we knew it not, we had become advanced in meditation.

I also felt a oneness with the trees and felt sure that there were spirits or fairies of some kind who lived in and were the essence of trees. In my backyard there was a particularly handsome tree. I felt a strong connection with it and often spent time sitting underneath it or exploring it (or, at least, the parts I could reach). It wasn’t long after this that I began writing a story about a girl who could talk to plants and animals. This girl had a tree that she confided in named Mr. T. He was based on my favorite tree, which I then began calling by that name and even talking to. At night when I was lonely or couldn’t sleep, I would imagine that Mr. T left his tree and came to sit with me and talk with me.

Me, myy sister and friend soon found that others shared our love of the Fae, though perhaps in not such a childlike manner. We discovered the wonders of metaphysical shops and New Age music. This soon led me to the internet where I frequented such sites as http://www.newage.com.au. Here is where I, with my spiritual life thirsting, took the lead and started sprinting down the path of this spirituality that centered around nature and the Divine Spirit who made it and dwelt within it. I didn’t read much, though. I found most of the articles hard to read. I wasn’t familiar with any of the terminology or practices. I learned more just by being in nature and going where my heart lead.

This was around the year 2000 and reality shows about haunted houses and spirit mediums were at their height. My sister and our friend were, of course, big fans of these shows. We were soon using the Ouija board, holding séances and doing automatic writing, all of which truly delivered results (much to our pleasure). It wasn’t long before I decided I wanted to be a medium and help spirits on their way to heaven.

I knew that I was psychic. Granted, I’ve always been very sensitive and spiritual. I can often read people very well (though I don’t by any means use this as excuse to judge a person before getting to know them). However, something more started happening. When talking to Spirits I always heard them better than the others. I was very sensitive towards energies that objects held. For instance, we went to the history museum when I was 14 and I was bombarded with horrifying images of what every artifact has lived though. I was so spooked and overwhelmed by the intensity of events these objects had lived though (this was a World War II museum) that I had to leave and regain my energy and composure.

This same year my liver disease reoccurred in my new liver, which had been transplanted into me three years prior, when I was eleven. I was put on a high dose of steroids at this time and, let me tell you, steroids mess with my emotions. It’s like having horrible PMS, times ten. The steroids not only made me puffy (which is very hard on a girl in middle school who didn’t have many friends or a lot of self-confidence) but I would also start crying for no reason at all. Then I started just feeling numb. I began to hate myself so much that I would cut my arms.

When I was fifteen, almost sixteen, my mom sent me to a therapist she knew.

“You’ll like her, Becca. She’s into very spiritual things, just like you.”

I did like her. Not only was she spiritual, but she had some illnesses just like mine. I wasted no time in telling her that I was a psychic, I wanted to be a spirit medium and urged her to share with me what her spiritual experiences were. She asked if it would be okay if she used the Bible so we could read what it had to say on the matters at hand. I figured, why not? The Bible is a spiritual book, though I’d never read it before.

From them on my Bible studies began and after that led to do a Bible prophecy seminar which then led me to the Seventh-Day Adventist Church. I was now a born-again Christian and not only that I was a fundamentalist born-again Christian. My family was not pleased.

My family are Christians, but they’re more like Unitarians than Seventh - day Adventist. I had been brought up the Episcopal Church, though I don’t remember learning much about God there. Most of what I knew about God my mother had taught me. She taught me that God was both male and female or rather, that God was beyond gender. She taught me to be respectful off all religions and beliefs. Why, growing up we celebrated lots of cultural holidays because my mom wanted us (me and my sister, Natalie) to be culturally informed. We were always given freedom to choose our own paths, but I guess the whole Seventh - day Adventist thing wasn’t exactly what my family had had in mind.

As I progressed in my Christian walk I became more and more conservative. I don’t know why I went to such extremes, but at the time I felt I was doing it do give myself over to God and follow His Law completely and distance myself from worldly things. My Ouija Board, tarot cards and many other such things were given away. I kept all fiction books (especially Harry Potter) out of my sight. I wore dresses full time and sometimes even wore a head covering. My rock music was thrown out, I didn’t do anything on Saturdays but go to church, eat, go outside, study my Bible and pray. I took on my role as a mere woman who should always submit to man and cast off my worldly friends.

My life was completely different. Instead of glorying in the Earth I had to be careful to worship the Creator and not the creation. No books of fairy tales were to be seen by my eyes again and the only music that found my ears were hymns.

I struggled so much because I wanted my old life, but I knew it was bad and that hell would be my place if I should return to that old life. I did have wonderful times of communion with God and of being filled with his love, but the style of worship that was expected of me was hard. I wanted to burn incense and candles and have beautiful things on an altar. I wanted to sing songs that spoke to my heart. Somehow I had turned the understanding God of my youth, the God I talked to in the trees and the air and the skies, into a harsh judge. I needed to find my real God again.

When I was nineteen I started to fall away. I became so sick of everything. I just couldn’t do it anymore. Little by little, and full of fear that I would be “caught” I started wearing pants, listening to rock music and doing my hair. At some point I made a huge betrayal of God (in my mind) and set out some cakes in my backyard for the faeries, also saying a little prayer. To me, this was idol worship.

I came back to my conservative form of Christianity a few times, but each time I fell away again and always a little further. The biggest rebellion of all was when I started reading Harry Potter again. But by that point I didn’t care if I went to hell or not. At least I was happy and that was all I cared about. I wanted to spend my life being happy and following my heart. And in my heart of hearts I knew the true God didn’t judge me but that I was where I was supposed to be. You can imagine that my Christian friends didn’t take this too well.

Now here I am, 21-years-old and I started looking for the fairies again a few weeks ago. In fact you couldn’t drag me off of my laptop for days. I soon found Wicca which was not at all what I had expected it to be. It wasn’t dark, it was all about oneness with the Earth! The beauty of doing something meaningful with your prayers (doing a spell or rite) spoke straight to my heart. I began contacting pagan groups in Lincoln to find out about classes and things like that. I wasn’t ready to be Wiccan yet or anything, but I was definitely ready to learn. I found some of the most amazing people in these groups and, though they’ve only known me a few weeks, it’s like I’m part of their family now.

I’m starting to feel at home with my spirituality again. The more I read about Wicca the more it speaks to me. So do I worship the devil now? God forbid! I worship the same God whom I have worshipped since my youth. I’m leaning more about His/Her character, too. Do I still believe in the state of the dead? Yes. What about the spirit guides? I’ve gotten to know them again and they are amazing. They need a blog post all their own. How about the Sabbath? I haven’t thought about the Sabbath in a long time. I do still believe it is a blessed day and perhaps I should treat it in a more spiritual matter. However, I will go out and buy lunch on the Sabbath. I just don’t understand anymore why that is such a big deal. Do I still go to church? No. Number one, my health doesn’t always allow me. Number 2, even at the best of times I get nothing out of church and usually end up offended anyway. However, I may be attending a Bible study next month.

So which is it? Wicca or Christianity? The answer: I don’t know. I’m only walking the path and making the choices as I go.

Health Update

Hi everyone,

I know it's been a VERY long time since I've written a health update. Again, not a lot has been going on. I've had some really good days and some really bad days. A few days ago I was in the ER for a pain episode. It started at 8 PM so I loaded up on the heavy drugs and prayed they'd kick in soon. Well, they didn't and it wasn't long before I was puking my guts out as well. I tried so hard to deal with things at home, but it got to the point where I was severely dehydrated, exhausted and still in pain after copious amounts of narcotics. We weren't getting anywhere and it hadn't been worth the hours of agony to try and do things at home so around midnight mom and I headed for the ER.

Then we had the normal problem of getting an IV in me, made so much worse by my dehydration. Some IV goddess eventually came in and made it look easy as pie. Still, one of the most painful IV experiences I've had. I'm sure there were some people down the hall scared out of their wits by my screaming. I got lots of morphine and nausea drugs, not to mention glorious IV fluids (thank you God for IV fluids!) I was feeling a little better. Well, I felt well enough to stand for an X-ray and memorize the Spanish word for pregnancy. I was not thrilled, however, to see my X-ray up on a screen where my chest was more visible than I would have liked it to be for the elderly male X-ray tech.

Anyway, it was weird because usually the pain drugs worked and this time they weren't. They even switched me to the super morphine stuff and even that didn't make a huge difference. The nausea med did help, however and I was finally able to drink some water. I was eventually sent home since my X-ray looked normal. At home I continued to medicate through the night and was still in a lot of pain. I was able to sleep, though and that was a huge plus.

I was still sleeping a lot and having extra pain through to Thanksgiving. However, on Friday I seemed to be doing better. I'm still not tip-top but I did manage to clean the rat cages myself and even do some Black Friday shopping, so I'm pretty proud of myself.

Mr. T

**pictures from magazines were posted in my journal with captions**

The previous was posted on a night when my sleeping pill got the best of me. Nevertheless, I see the outline to a story.
The weather has been nice lately. Very nice. Today it is horribly windy, though. I can feel the great Nebraskan allergies flying up my nose. It has gotten so warm that new buds and leaves have formed on the branches. This is typical for a Nebraskan autumn, though.
The sun is starting to set and I have had my time with the trees. I’ve collected some leaves for pressing as well.
I have been thinking much on faerie lately and how much I love the trees. There are faerie men inside I like to think. Like guardian angels and we all have one. Mr. T was a tree at my old house and a good friend of mine. He was, of course, in my story which I never finished. I have fantasies of going to see him again.