The Energy We Can’t See Shapes Our Lives and the Things We Can
I’ve always been drawn to things that are on the mysterious, spooky side, of life, stuff that hints that there’s more to it than the physical, more than what we can see and touch.
The Outer Limits, Star Trek, Twilight Zone, and Night Gallery, the latter two courtesy of Rod Serling, were my A-listers and you could find me watching them into the wee hours of the morning.
My mother set me up for this. She loved Rod Serling and she also took pleasure in jumping out from around corners or grabbing us as we walked down the hall in the dark. And yes, I enjoyed it.
My curiosity for all things invisible, the energy I couldn’t see, did not diminish with age.
As a youngster, my younger sister, cousin, and I often took the train into Boston to shop. We followed my grandmother’s routine of sitting at the soda fountain at Brigham’s for a coffee milkshake; visiting the duck pond on Boston Garden and feeding peanuts to the ducks; lightning a candle at St. Anthony’s Shrine (Catholic Church); and then making our way to a psychic tea leave reader.
Bet you didn’t expect that last one. My mother didn’t either. Despite her penchant for the spooky, fortunetelling is not endorsed by the Catholic Church. And she was so the Pope in that way.
The readings weren’t great, but at least we got a cup of tea.
It satisfied some, but not all, of my curiosity. We are all curious by nature, looking for guidance, an explanation of the unknown. They are tools that explain and shed light on some of life’s difficulties and mysteries, but they do not provide all the answers.
Since then I’ve become a yoga teacher, reiki practitioner, certified spiritual medium and even had a hypnosis practice. I enjoy astrology, aura readings, and angel cards.
Like the universe, life keeps changing, one road leads to one destination, but take a different turn, and the trajectory and path changes. Little did I realize what would change in my life and where it would take me.
I examine my memories of the time my son decided to go live with his father and moved 250 miles away. It meant I wouldn’t see him every day. It also meant I was essentially a motherless child. My social system changed and dropped the proverbial atom bomb on my life.
In short, I was a wreck.
Now I consider who I would be today had he not left.
I think I would have spent those years dealing with a lot of adolescent bull shit instead of exploring that other side of life that fascinated me so in my younger years.
I think life, the universe, God, Spirit, or anything you call it, destined me to raise him for 14 years and then have time for myself, to myself, to create the life and become who I needed to be. A time to go back to my childhood, to those things that go bump in the night and give them a little more attention.
I felt the grief of change and loss, but it was actually a time of great opportunity. It was 9–11 and the changes that would take place in the world and my life, though I didn’t know it then, were aligned.
It was a gift of freedom, but with this freedom came solitude, times of being alone, of having the opportunity to sit with myself, all that emotional turmoil, and letting it settle.
Life demolished the structure, even the mother, or that full-time version of the mother, so that I could rebuild. The material and the tools were all there, in the disorganized, howling, rebellious mess. It was my job to put everything back together.
This is where I got the chance to pick-up the pieces, dig through the rubble and build a completely new structure, a new me, a new life. I did this through a Spiritualist Church, through classes and the people I met there.
And even with this guidance, it took every ounce of my energy, to change my life and the way I judged the world. I came to realize that we are all masterpieces, no less brilliant than the writings of Shakespeare or Michelangelo’s David or the Sistine Chapel. And it is not just the final product, but all the sweat, decisions, mistakes, lessons, and interactions that create it.
What you see on the outside is a reflection of the beauty and the struggle on the inside. Man is indeed the ultimate masterpiece and we are all masterpieces in our own right.
We are works in progress.
So here I am today, the day of my son’s wedding, the beautiful weather is a blessing on it.
He has become who he needed to be, and though the rough patches didn’t end with his departure during the 9–11 aftermath, we have both come out on the other side as the people we are supposed to be.
And as adults, we have become friends. He is also marrying a lovely woman.
Looking back, the spooky stuff and the tea leaves were not supernatural. It was the world’s way of introducing me to the spirit side of life in a way that was not linked to any religion. A way for the world to encourage me to explore. A way to tell me that God/Spirit is not confined to the rules of a society and a neat religious structure that has all the answers, confined to Sundays.
It is alive and expanding, changing every day.
We are spiritual beings having a physical experience and need to tap in and interact with it, develop a relationship.
Everyday I work with this knowledge, and everyday I know it is always there and will never let me down. And it won’t let you down either.
Thank you Spirit.