A Collection of Mystical Experiences

In this section I want to include people’s spiritual stories, so if you have an extraordinary experience, please let me know.

 

 ”Earth Mother”

 Adrienne from Canada.

Within a six month period my mother died and then my father died.  The day after my father’s death my husband announced that he wanted a divorce!  I was in the deepest, darkest place one could imagine; full of pain and despair!  I had just lost the three people in the world that I loved the most!

Let me explain here that prior to this terrible period I had been taught by a gifted healer on how to send healing to the earth and I had been practicing this 2-3 times a week. So it was at this vital point that I experienced Gaia, the earth mother.

 She came to me singing her song, dressed in etheric light of calmness and peace and as the Earth herself responded to my pain, I realized that there is so much more to this universe than what we have been taught.

 She is always with me now and I think of her whenever the earth is experiencing upheavals, like earthquakes.  I often send her love and healing because her love helped to heal me of my grief and pain.

 

 

All Pervading Intelligence

Lyn  from Australia 

 

 

It was as I read the words ‘formless intelligence’ that suddenly I began to understand what I have been trying to grasp for over 40 years; that there is a formless intelligence surrounding all of us! That we live inside this intelligence even as IT permeates our world. I knew without question that this ‘thinking stuff’ packs into and around every nook and cranny of our lives.

            Slowly I became aware of something I feel I had always known but had never consciously recognised; it is this All Pervading Intelligence that is the living energy constantly creating us!

            Full of wonder I tried to contact this Intelligence, interfacing with it, touching it with my imagination, attempting to imprint an imagined successful film-script into the mass of energy being created by this formless intelligence. As I formed this image I began to slip into an altered state of consciousness. My breathing deepened and the feelings in my solar plexus became electric.  Slowly I became aware of a huge intelligence filling the air around me. It was real. It was alive. It was all pervading. As I recognised the aliveness of this Intelligence, joy washed through me in waves lifting me to a new level of passion and wonder.  It was exquisite, and the aftermath of this electrifying experience lasted for days as I walked around feeling a constant pressure between my shoulder blades. It was so powerful and so exquisite that I tried not to lean back in chairs in case I squashed the energy.

            Slowly over time the physical changes to my body subsided, but my understanding of the Eternal Mind has continued to develop. At any time I can become aware of this Intelligence, and immediately my heart opens and I am filled with reverence.

            The book that stimulated this ‘awakening’ was a written in the early 1900s by Wallace Wattle. Called ‘The Science of Getting Rich’  this booklet is freely available on the Internet.

 

Lyn Willmott 2001

 

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1991

The Lady at the Top of the Tunnel.

 

The phone call was from my best friend who had, two days earlier, rearranged our lives by inviting my partner (the father of my child)  to become her lover. Apparently she called me to chat about the miracle of their compatibility.

            I was dumbfounded. It seemed that although my partner now lived with her, she was expecting to continue our friendship! Did she not realise this act of betrayal had not only shattered all trust, it had snatched away my close relationship with them both? How could she be so unaware of my despair? The shock of that phone call twisted my hurt into uncontrollable hatred.

Ferociously slamming the phone down in the middle of my friend’s gushing, I wobbled into the bedroom and collapsed. The red madness of my fury whirled me into chaos. Violence had always been an abomination so I was horrified by what I was feeling. Aware that my sixteen-year-old son was witnessing this drama I tried to suppress the turmoil. I assured him I’d be OK, that I just needed a few minutes rest before driving him down to his job at the windsurf shop on the beach.

There was a chasm of silence as I tried to stop the pain. I was in the calm centre of an emotional cyclone but I felt that at any moment I would tear apart. Nevertheless I fumbled my way to the car and drove carefully down South Road. At times I was unable to see because of the pain in my head but we reached the beach safely and I remember telling my son he’d have to hitch a lift home with someone else because I felt too ill to pick him up.

The story needs to be momentarily interrupted here to explain that for years I had noticed an odd internal structure - shaped like a tunnel - inside my head. You may think it surprising that I did not explore this phenomenon more thoroughly but the whole structure existed just below my normal awareness allowing me to accept that this inner passageway was simply a part of consciousness. In retrospect this may seem odd, but I believe we all have these odd flights of consciousness swirling through our minds. Trust me when I say we are not who we think we are!

Anyway, I found my way back to my house, and struggling onto my bed I became crushed inside the worst headache I had ever experienced, vomiting, moaning, completely beyond all rational thought, feeling as though I was nothing more than a trembling blob of putrid red anger. There were images of knives spinning within the bounds of my imagination. I held them high in each hand wanting to stab and stab and stab. It was a terrible waking dream. The hatred in my throat, and my need to scream obscenities at the world was unbearable and although this vision of destruction was beyond my comprehension, all I wanted was to kill them both.

Somehow I found myself on my back, for the first time staring up intently into the enigma of my tunnel. I could see the familiar outline of the cloaked figure standing passively at the top and her detachment was outrageous! How could she simply stand there witnessing my suffering?

“For Christ sake, don’t just stand there!” I was crying with frustration, and glaring up into the tunnel I screamed silently, “If you are of any f****** use at all… help me! Help me….please!”

There was another aching silence in the room. Laying there staring up at a Madonna-like figure at the top of the tunnel, my mind was a vacuum; all I was feeling was pain.

Then unprepared, and in utter astonishment I realised the figure at the top of the tunnel had begun to move. I was not doing this, she was moving on her own! Imperceptible at first, but I saw the rippling shift of her cloak. She was coming! This ethereal Being was gliding down the tunnel towards me. I was overwhelmed! I simply watched in stunned disbelief, hardly daring to breathe. Then she stopped at a jumble of brightly patterned floor cushions piled in the centre of the tunnel, blocking her path.  With gentle precession the cloaked lady picked up each large cushion and patted it back into the wall of the tunnel. As she did this, miraculously I felt both my murderous rage and my blinding headache vanish. Carefully she replaced each cushion and after the blockage had been dealt with the lady in the dark cloak continued towards me.  By this time I was melting with the glory of what had happened. I longed to reach out and be cradled by her but she disappeared into the wash of my tears.

I don’t know how long I lay there sobbing with gratitude and amazement, but slowly I felt a softness flooding through me. Some type of miracle had just taken place, something beyond anything I could understand.

I lay lightly on the bed feeling completely loved.

Later, after a quick shower, I grabbed an apple and my sun-hat, returning to the beach, where my son found me jogging enthusiastically along the shore-line, spirits high with no sign what-so-ever of my previous malaise. This change was never mentioned, probably because as with most teen age sons, he simply accepted the oddities of his mother - but for weeks after I privately noted down every movement, every symbol of that event, attempting to piece together some sort of meaning for myself.

In fantasy I talked with the young woman hidden within that mythic cloak. She reported that as she patted the soft blocks back into the tunnel wall an electric charge shimmered along the whole structure. The cushion blocks had been fitted back where they belonged, allowing the tunnel to return to its most potent vitality. Of course this was exactly what I felt physically. The turmoil ceased, the blockage had been removed, and my life was again entrusted into the care of my sad little ego. Did the large cushions symbolize that puffed-up barrier of monstrous rage? Did the cushions show how this anger was completely disabling my journey? Did the tunnel represent my life’s journey? In all cases the reply was yes.

Then there was the question of the cloaked figure. She was much more than a metaphor because her actions brought about a physical change in me. So did this indicate that there is an overlapping reality parallel/inside the reality I call normal? And if so then exactly who was she; my higher self, an angel or a vivid imagined event?

Often in those days I would feel a thin membrane, like rubber latex stretching over my chattering mind. This gabble never stops, Sometimes I would have flashes where I could actually feel the separation between my thoughts and a greater consciousness. I imaged that set into this wafer thin divide is copied all our experiences, beliefs, primitive urges, emotions, thoughts, and memories. Perhaps once this divide (or veil) has been removed, contact with our larger conscious state is made. Perhaps I saw/see that divide as a tunnel. Others might see it as something else. Perhaps the cloaked lady helped restore the tunnel so I could function again Whatever mysterious action lay hidden within that event, I realised that I was taking a journey through unknown territory; some other type of reality even though it was supposedly inside my head. When she replaced those symbolic cushions, snuffing out my violence and hatred, she was also reopening my energy conduit, freeing it of a most primitive human disturbance, allowing my life’s journey to continue.

Although I’m speaking in past tense - because it all happened a number of years ago - my cloaked lady continues to stand where she has always stood. That’s when I pay attention to her, although I must admit that now she stands within the aura of a much larger entity. The tunnel is still there but it may never be activated again.

 This incident demonstrated how each of us, each human world, expands far beyond the boundaries of what we see and know. As I say, the tunnel experience revealed how parts of an unknown reality became integrated into this sphere of consciousness when I asked for help.

Upon reflection I have realised that a dangerous part of the evolutionary mind - that primitive, universal attack mechanism - can be activated by something as innocuous as that silly phone call. The violence it triggered skidded across my mind’s surface like a chain reaction, choking off energy, choking off rational thought and causing a monumental blockage. My hatred was just a fierce as any warlord rallying his troops so I know absolutely that the primitive ability to kill exists in me along side many other abilities. I know also that it is but a breath away and can be switched on in an instant. This ancient mind is in us all, and we need to be aware of its urgent power. Horrifically, my experience has hammered this awareness into me like a spike into a sponge.  I have had to acknowledge that if such action is no more than flicker away from reaction, then killing is as much a genuine function as giving birth. Maybe all of us need to acknowledge this potency. Mostly it lays dormant yet it is part of our human condition.

The affair with’ the lady at the top of the tunnel’ has forced me to admit that symbolic happenings stand apart from normality. They are directed by something outside our known existence even though they are a vital part of our experience, and are part of who we are. The tunnel event caused me to reach beyond the fulcrum of what was then my belief structure, helping me to recognise that there are unfathomable processes (miracles to our limited minds) underpinning our existence. The deeper I investigated, the more unfathomable ‘life’ became. It seemed as though I was being shown that we live within a tiny section of our consciousness, and because of our lack of awareness we seldom question these restrictions. Labeled normality, this limited realm prevents us from knowing ourselves as we really are. We may question, debate and argue; but while we stay within the limits of rational thought we will remain separated, believing we are alone. This is wrong. We are not alone!

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9/11

Lyn Willmott

 

Like so many other Australians on that traumatic night in September 2001 I sat in front of the television unable to comprehend what I was watching. One of the World Trade Centre Towers was collapsing; how could this be happening? Around 11.30 pm I shuffled off to bed struggling to make sense of the horrific images filling the world’s television screens.

            It seemed like a bizarre movie. How could it be real? Yet people were dying!

I could not sleep, aware that on the other side of the world this tragedy was still being played out. Twice more I got up, attempting to watch the catastrophe, but I could not witness the panic and terrible death.

Going back into my darkened bedroom I lay staring up at the ceiling weighed down by revulsion. How could human beings do this to other humans? Somehow I needed to help so in my mind’s eye I began to try to ‘see’ into the chaos. I did not really understand what I was doing, but I felt compelled to act. I had read about the Remote Viewing experiments and although I doubted their validity that night I was so shattered by the pictures flooding in from New York that I consciously stared out into the darkness of my room trying to ‘see’ what was happening.

Suddenly I felt a strange confusion in my mind. There seemed to be a massive background of static electricity swirling in my head. It was so blinding I could not comprehend what I was looking at, then cutting across this bewilderment I realised I was looking at large rain drops … going up. My head was chaotic. I could not make sense out of what I was seeing. What were these greyish-white images, shaped like large rain drops? And why were they streaming upwards?  It made no sense.

I continued to watch as the image became clearer. Then realisation smashed through my muddled mind. I knew what I was seeing. They weren’t victims at all! They had been released at death and were going home.

That mysterious, mystical sight will remain one of the most important images of my life. Seven years later it is still branded into my consciousness and the wonder of it will never to be forgotten. When I started my crazy effort to help I had been overwhelmed by the fear of what was happening in those stricken towers, but these shimmering images I was seeing; these silvery-grey outlines lifting upwards like elongated rain drops, told a different story. There was no fear here. I saw hundreds and hundreds of expanded silver grey shapes rising upward and I knew that none of them needed any help. They were safe, they were alright, their bodies may have just died, but they were alive. They were going home.

Looking back, I realise that experience was a very special confirmation that we are  much more than a body, and once the body dies there are other living realities to which we return. As I watched those people streaming upwards, leaving their mangled bodies behind, I understood completely. It was as if the images themselves were part of our collective unconsciousness; that beneath the chatter of our lives we have deeper, more sacred knowledge of who we are. It’s a shared knowledge and I was privileged to experience a little of it on September the 11^th

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Posted by Lyn on October 23rd, 2008 :: Filed under Creative Writing

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