A little history is needed to place this story in context. I don’t know who my father is. Due to circumstances that I will leave out of this tale, my paternity was never established. My mother married my brothers father when I was 4 years old. He was a military man and an alcoholic. My childhood was very frightening and difficult. I was raised to believe he was my biological father, despite his being of East Indian decent and my mother and I being Scottish/Irish decent. When I was 11 years old I began to doubt the story that “You came out looking like your mom and your brother came out looking like your father”. I voiced my doubts to my uncle one day and he challenged me to ask my step-dad myself. That was a very frightening and potentially dangerous prospect. I had learned through the years to very carefully choose my words around him, if I had to choose any words at all. Silence is gold. However I got the sudden nerve to be brave and ask. He was alone outside on the back deck and I asked my question to which I received a quick and stern “No, does it matter?!” Inside a split second I saw this vision in my minds eye: Against a completely black background I saw a red can descend and a lid come down and sealed it as it left my field of view. “Don’t open that can of worms”. Nothing else was ever said about this between us. Fast forward 2 years to age 13. Mom had divorced my step dad the previous year. I was a part of a church youth group and we attended a large youth conference in downtown Nashville. At the end of the first night the preacher did the usual routine of an altar call, salvation, etc….none of which I ever had any interest in to be completely honest. I just went to the youth group because the kids were my friends and it was a sanctuary away from the hell of home life and public school. The preacher then mentions that he was going to pray that we would be “baptized in the Holy Spirit”. There was a prerequisite however and it was forgiveness. He asked that we close our eyes and forgive the first person who came to mind. Of course my former step-dad came to mind and surprisingly I was at least emotionally neutral about him in that moment. Then I saw the red can ascend in my minds eye and the lid come off as it ascended out of view. Then IT hit me like lighting. Physical strength left my legs and i fell straight down on my tailbone. (Not gently back with a catcher like you see on TV….) It felt like every cell in my body was marinated in bliss. I wept and wept as I cycled through every emotion imaginable till I settled into joy. I could “sense” every person in the room and tell how they felt. I had to be carried to the hotel room. The physical sensations slowly waned away over 6 days, however the “spiritual sense” of that night has remained ever sense. As corny as it sounds, it really is a “sixth sense” that informs and colors every aspect of my life now. The difficulty I run into now is that my thoughts and emotions can cloud my connection. Has anyone had anything similar happen to them? Thoughts? Questions? Personally I have kept silent too much here out of fear of people not understanding. Thank you for taking the time to read this.
(Image “Isis and Harpocrates” courtesy of deadheart82 on DeivantArt