Get it evaluated by a handwriting expert :shrug:
spiritual interaction
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Get it evaluated by a handwriting expert :shrug:
That could be a start. I think the content of the messages themselves may be important to understanding the phenomenon as well as if other members of her family have had similar experiences (like her brother implied).
The experience she is speaking of is not unique. It is something that I have had many Christians express to me. An autonomous set of thoughts and / or actions where the conscious mind itself is merely an observer.
The experience she is speaking of is not unique. It is something that I have had many Christians express to me. An autonomous set of thoughts and / or actions where the conscious mind itself is merely an observer.
yeah, this is the jist of what happened. there was this guy that i didn't know that was sick. i had known of him, and knew he was in a lot of pain, and god had told me to write him a letter, which i felt stupid and intrusive about doing and so i didn't do it. then when i found out he was sick, god told me to send him flowers, which i felt even more intrusive and stupid about but was pretty determined to do it anyway. and when i sat down to write a get well note to go with the flowers, seven paragraphs of some of the most beautiful poetry i had ever read came out of me. it was personal to him like i said. and was as if i could see him and describe him through god's eyes. and he was beautiful.
when i was writing it i didn't really understand what was going on. i was just kind of going with the flow and writing down what came to mind. when i was done though, i read it and knew something freaky had happened. i called my mom and all my friends and exclaimed, "i just wrote something i didn't write!", over and over again. i was so excited. it was a miracle. none of them knew what to make of what i was saying. neither did i really. i just knew that this was indeed a spiritual intervention. i knew that god was using me and i loved it. it's funny...at that point i had no idea what i was in store for. because it was just the beginning. the beginning of the wildest ride imaginable it seems.
i would if i could really, but it is very personal to someone else. i feel as if it doesn't even belong to me. if it were about me i would share it with you for sure. but it isn't about me at all, and i don't feel comfortable sharing it. it's like a very personal conversation between god and someone else through me.
i think the problem is with my teacup. what i suggest is that we throw a tea party, and dump all our tea into the ocean and mix it all about. a little of me into you, and a little of you into me. i think that would make it better for me and who knows, may start a revolution! and we could make a new home and we could be free. free of our teacups, and taxation without representation...
Excellent question.
i think that perspective has a lot to do with it. you can either be focused on the flesh and your ego, your individuality and separation, or you can focus on your spirit, your conscience, and communion with god that takes place in this other realm. i just feel that at that time i was getting a spiritual baseball bat upside the head in order to change my perspective (which it has and has not at the same time because my flesh and spirit remain at odds even now). and it also served another purpose, or several, that i may or may not be aware of in that i feel that this phenomenon was induced purposefully, and witnessed.
The thing I dont understand is, why would God ahve a conversation with someone else through you? I f you knew it was god then couldnt god just have eliminated the middle women and channeled himself through the other person? :shrug:
Your brother was right. This kind of "unconscious" creativity is very common. I frequently read a lot and sometimes without my realising it, everything falls into patterns that I recognise. Sometimes, I have the whole thing written out before I realise it, and only later when I read it, I feel very strange and disembodied about it. Often, I don't even recognise it as something written by me.
I find both these experiences are most common when I am involved in some kind of repetitive activity that does not require my attention or when I empty my mind for meditation or prayer.
Do you recall your frame of mind at the time?
my brother is a very smart and talented man. he and i have this kind of ying yang relationship in that we're very different, and yet complimentary. he's a musician and i'm an accountant. it's always seemed like he got the right side of the brain and i got the left. he's always envied my sense of responsiblilty, and i've always wanted to be a rock star, and have been his biggest fan. he is an atheist, and i'm a born again jesus freak. he's an intellect and i'm a real party girl. not that i'm not intelligent, because i am. i just don't really give a shit. he is very well read, and has studied a lot about philosophy and religion but has never had a spiritual experience. i haven't studied much about those things at all, but have had some incredible mind blowing experiences. and we get together, and i tell him about what has happened to me, and what i think about it, and he'll site some literary source saying, "well that's just like what i read about in blah, blah, blah book." and i'm like, "really, cause that's my life."
that's an interesting question about my state of mind at the time. in the last three years i had dumped a lifetime worth of baggage. i had gotten rid of my horrible husband, and a job that i couldn't stand doing anymore. i felt like my life was a mess and i needed to focus on it. like i had focused in the past on my education and career. so i was in transition, and had no idea where i was headed. my whole life i had been an approval seeker, and now i was a rebel. i had gone back to waitressing, was making new friends...entertaining myself, and having a lot of fun for a change. i was listening to a lot of music and felt free for the first time that i could ever remember. and open to whatever god had in store for me. i wanted passion, which was something i had never felt, and i wanted a purpose, which was something i never felt had come to pass. i wanted to understand who i was and who i was supposed to be, because i'd never known. i had always been too interested in who someone else thought i was supposed to be. i was open to anything, and was at ease with myself. and i felt very spiritually in tune, and had felt that way for a long time. then i wanted to know what my calling was and i felt it. it had gotten me that far and i was following it. i just had no idea where it was taking me or why. the purpose for which i had given myself up for i had offered long before. at that point though, i couldn't see that i was being set up to fulfill it. but now i do.
i think this person needed help. that part of his "condition" was that he was shut off from god, and that he needed my help, as a medium of sorts. and it would serve a greater purpose. to restore that connection between him and god and to have that restoration witnessed to and shared among others who suffered in the same way, would be healed the same way, and would testify.
If god is an all powerful all encompasing being then noone can ever be shut off from god. Hence why I see this story as puzzling. :shrug:
Another thing I don't get is how you know the traditional Christian God is what was behind this. Perhaps you're an exceptional person with strange talents to help people? Or perhaps there's an ingenious physiologist who wants to help people and is doing it through you. What was the bridge between knowing you're having a supernatural experience and knowing it was the Christian God behind this supernatural experience.
i felt like i could stop it, yeah. i felt like i was being led to put it mildly, but it was my choice to cooperate or not. i could have refused. but i knew i would have always regretted it, and would have missed out on what i was called by god to do. the passion and purpose that i longed for would have been lost in fear. i new that if i didn't do it, that i was giving in to fear and it was wrong.
well, at that point, i had already known the voice of god, and was convinced that jesus was indeed the christ. this had come from years of seeking and of answers that were given in a variety of ways. none of which were as odd as this was. what i'm talking about here too, is a little piece of a big experience that has to do with revelations prophecy and interpretation of bible scripture.
speaking of which, S.A.M. had mentioned patterns, and i did notice a pattern to the writing during the second piece...the one i burned. this was a poem in the form of a letter to my childhood imaginery friend, joey spagota. yes, i did in fact have a childhood imaginery friend by that name. at the time, i felt like i was being led very strongly. i could hear the voice of god very clearly. but when i sat down to write the first "get well card" i wasn't paying attention to what i was doing. i just sat down and wrote it, and only afterward did i know that something weird was going on. after that happened, and before i mailed the poem, god told me that this guy was my childhood imaginery friend...joey spagota. and i was scared. i knew the voice of god and when he said, "this guy is joey spagota.", i thought that something was terribly wrong. so i tried to ignore this message for while, but it kept coming. i kept thinking about my imaginery friend and what the dynamic was between us way back when, and this was pre-school. as i reflected on this imaginery friendship, i made notes about what i remembered about him, and those notes became an outline to a second poem. the poem was a letter to him, and about what my real life had been, and analogy of this person and me and our father, god. and it blew my mind. as i was writing this second piece i noticed some things i hadn't before when writing the first one. first, that it was seven paragraphs of ten lines. i then went back and counted the paragraphs of the first piece and there was seven. i noticed that my handwriting wasn't exactly neat, but it was uniform and that i knew the piece was becoming "perfect" when the words lined up in a uniform fashion between the margins of the notebook paper with no spaces and minimal but correct punctuation. the words formed perfect blocks on the page. i also noticed that when i wrote, my eyes didn't follow my hand across the page but stayed more centered on the page, almost like i was in a trance or something, though i was completely lucid and in control of myself. i knew i could stop it at any time. i also noticed a pain in the center of my forehead. it got stronger the longer i wrote and the more trance-like i became, and was diminished when i stopped or took a break. i likened it to what i had heard to be a "mind's eye". it hurt. i was smoking at the time and also noticed that it was impossible to keep a buzz. i would smoke a bowl, get high, start writing, and immediately become sober. it was pissing me off in a way. though what was happening to me instead was more of a trip than any drug i ever did. so i finally just stopped trying to get high and wasting my pot. once i got up to use the bathroom after i had been writing for a while, and i noticed i couldn't hardly lift my feet off the ground. my legs felt as heavy as lead. and i asked myself, "why the hell do my feet feel so heavy?", and i got an answer...it was that "a spirit isn't used to lugging around all the weight of a body, and it feels really heavy", or something to that affect, and i was like, "what?" i went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror to find that my pupils were dilated so it looked like i had black eyes. i mean, they were as big as my iris; and with no explanation. the lights were on in the living room where i was writing and the lights were on in the bathroom, which was just the next room over. i had not been in the dark and i surely wasn't tripping on acid. shit, i couldn't even get high. so i stood there with my jaw in the sink staring at myself in horror, and watched my pupils reduce down to the size of a pinhead in a second, with no change in lighting whatsoever. then they went back to normal, and i went to the bathroom. and that's when i knew that it definitely wasn't me writing the poetry. i didn't know who it was exactly, and i still don't. it was inside of me.