About Angels
And Other Disembodied Divinely Available Assistants' Assistance -- If We ASK!
I can’t feature a post on demons without balancing it out with one on angels.
‘Course, when I looked up Google images for “angels,” this is what I got, with Satanic theme colors red and black (blood and death), and the halo pierced by the spike tip of the “A”…so we won’t be relying on Google for much wisdom on angels of the supernatural variety.
Rumor has it Google is a covert Masonic, Death Cult-run organization, with its mail symbol actually the Masonic apron, and the and “Chrome” mega browser a 666 tribute to adrenochrome.
For more information on adrenochrome, and pictures of the scars from when my terror-adrenalized blood was forcibly extracted from my arms by my abusers, see my earlier blog post:
But I keep digressing into the dark side. It’s hard not to sometimes! But let me stay focused on ANGELS.
😇😇😇
It seems like most people believe in angels, at least of the guardian variety (sorta sounds like garden variety, but I think of the creatures of light that watch over gardens and flowers are fairies!). What do you think?
This wood-framed print of Guardian Angel Watching Over Children hovered over my Polish grandmother, the late Mary Catherine Rypien, on her double-wide mobile home living room wall. I asked her about it once, why she liked it. She told me the following story, which I will recount in her words as best as I can recollect:
Once, when I was a little girl, not much older than you [I was about six at the time], I was sleeping in my bed. I woke up, I’m not sure why, and opened my eyes. Above my bed I saw a very big, very bright figure, not unlike the one in this image. I was terrified, and turned over in my bed and pulled the covers over my head. I said "go away, go away, go away” in my mind, trembling for what seemed like forever, until I fell asleep. When I woke up, I dared peek out, and she was gone.
She said no more, and as a child I felt disappointed with that story. But writing this, I realize that despite her fearful banishment of the angel, Mary found this image and kept it close, always, as an adult. My grandmother did not speak after that of God, angels or divine assistance, but a picture is worth a thousand words. Angels were real to her.
*
If you follow the stories of survivors of Organized Extreme Abuse, for example mine in this blog, you will be exposed to horrific child abuse, demonic possession, and devil worship (SRA). You will hear about mad scientists doing unconscionable experiments on young minds, the division of innocent souls, and the use of torture to force split-off parts to perform acts of evil on behalf of their slavers (MK-ULTRA/TBMC). But if you hang in there and look for it, you will also begin to see another pattern, especially for the survivors still alive.
You will repeatedly read or hear extraordinary stories about successful angelic and other light-being interventions to alleviate their pain and save their lives.
I didn’t realize that everyone didn’t recall as many experiences of divine intervention as I did until I joined a weekly memoir writing group in 2013. We’d gather Wednesday evenings in someone’s cozy Seattle living room, clutching cups of tea and notebooks, reading stories aloud from our budding manuscripts. One night, a fellow writer remarked, with consternation:
“I don’t have [mystical] experiences like that…why does she have so many?”
I felt awkward, but it was true I had a lot. Special, positive interventions are a way of life for me, and always have been. I included several in my previously-published memoir, like this near-death experience that inspired massive transformation at age 29 (in 1999), which was the passage that evoked my fellow writer’s comment above.
FROM “CHAPTER 10: NEAR-DEATH INSPIRES TERMINATION”
I sang along with the radio, watching the wipers getting ahead of the beat. It was pouring Seattle rain in sheets of hazy gray outside the windshield. I slowed to a stop at a deserted intersection and was waiting for the light to turn green when SMASH! A car plowed into me from behind at full speed. I would later learn that four high school guys were out for a cruise in a parent’s Cadillac Escalade and their brakes went out. I was looking forward when it happened and hadn’t seen them coming.
Then things got really strange. When the SUV hit, my head was thrown back and I saw the ceiling of my car, by then a blue Toyota Tercel, its pale gray fabric overlaid by something else…something shadowy, but not malevolent. A blurry shape hovered there, like a thin, concave cloud. Though it had no face, I sensed the shape was aware, intensely alert, and beckoning to me. Although I had no memory of seeing it before, the dark presence seemed intimately familiar, and timelessly patient. Somehow, I knew it was both an entity and a passageway, a portal, and it was inviting me to pass through. Without hesitation, I said yes in my mind.
Instantly, my mind shifted, and I began to experience everything with far more vividness. My awareness shrank to the size of a pinpoint, and I shot like a rocket out of my body and up through that shadow, rising above the rain and clouds.
I am flying! I can fly, I know how to fly! I’ve always known, but must have forgotten until now, this glorious moment! I watched the pale half-moon go by, and then saw flashes of stars getting brighter, glowing and shining, bursting, like fireworks. I continued flying up, faster and faster, past even the molten sun. It felt ecstatic to be free, finally free, knowing, without knowing, that I was going home.
Then the sky changed and I saw streaks of darkness, smudges and layers of a blackness so bleak I shuddered, glad to fly by without slowing. All at once the light returned, a wall of golden light, creamy soft and sparkly, and I dove into it and through it, and was embraced in feelings of joyful welcome and celebration.
Consciousness here was utterly different than before, rendering my everyday experience isolated and barren. I could feel the presence of other beings, because they somehow joined me in my mind. Thought was communal and connected; this realm was more vibrational than verbal or visual. We shared thoughts telepathically, unique voices with different rhythms and inflections, each more tender than the last. I felt love pouring in from the beings around me, infinite yet personal—it was warm love for me as I existed on every level, every space and depth, pooling deep into my awareness like liquid light, melting my own shadows away until they became love too, until everything I knew softened into love.
One of the vibrations became more prominent, a masculine thought-voice that I recognized with a burst of happiness: Grandpa Sprout! Yet his presence was more than just the giant of a man who provided the only safe harbor I’d known as a child. Here he was, vast in his kindness, unfettered by the occasional impatience and burdens of his life I’d not understood back then. Here, he was expansive and completely free.
He explained without words that I had a choice before me, and that only I could make it: would I stay in this place, or choose to return to my life as I knew it on earth? He added that there was someone I might consult to help me decide, if I wished. Would I like to meet an aspect of my own soul who was always here, watching over me, while I moved on earth?
I sensed her there, waiting for me, though not like she was standing still across the room. What I really felt was the gentle nearness of a most cherished sameness of mind, yet grander beyond my comprehension—as if she were a part of me who was magical and divine, better than I could have ever hoped to be, and her affection for the smaller “me” was boundless and eternal. We merged easily, effortlessly, and traveled together without moving, across galaxies, taking a grand tour of the cosmos that she explained with thoughts was for play and perspective, in that order.
We moved back in time to visit another aspect of me, this one from before I was born on earth. This “self” revealed that she had a mission, one that at age twenty-nine I’d apparently barely begun. Would I release my task, or return to earth to see it through? I felt the eagerness of the not-yet-born me, pulsing with love and anticipation, relishing the honor of an incarnation that was sought by countless other souls. Then I saw this me again from a distance, but my mind couldn’t quite comprehend the setting. I translated it into seeing this version of myself walking through a grove of flowering fruit trees, accompanied by a being with light brighter than any I’d felt so far, bright as the sun, but a sun of pure love instead of fiery heat. It felt masculine, and a poignant tenderness flowed from him, washing over the me in the vision.
You do not know, I heard him think to that aspect of me—and there was protectiveness in his vibration. You do not know what it is you will face.
I want to go. I have something more to give, I want to give it! I care not the consequence. It cannot be worse than standing by to watch yet another utter end.
The bright being paused, as if for a deep sigh, and then answered. Yes, my dear one. Go in peace and love.
Then I saw the pre-incarnation me as a spark, a fast firefly soaring eagerly away from the grove of trees, out of the light, past the layers of darkness, past the stars, sun, and moon, entering through my mother’s body into the core of her ovum, joined by my father’s sperm. The spark burst with life, and the view faded.
My soul-guide and I were then joined by another vibration, the brightest one; the one the preborn me was walking with in the trees. All at once I knew everything that happened after my birth; every moment, event, and feeling; every act and reaction; every exchange of love, betrayal, and abuse up to the point of the car accident that had brought me here.
Now you know, he said softly. Now you know some of what you will face, and we can show you as much as you wish before you decide.
I’ve seen enough, I heard my mind say, unwavering. I want to go back.
In the snap of a second I was alone again in the totaled Tercel, my steering wheel slowly coming into focus. Then I heard a car door open and shut, followed by muffled voices. I felt deeply calm as a young man appeared at my window.
He cupped his hand around his mouth and pressed it against the glass and yelled, “Are you okay?”
“Call an ambulance,” I replied. I heard him agree, mumble an apology for hitting me, and then the scream of sirens from a distance, growing louder. Two firemen removed me from the car and strapped me to a gurney, and I noticed in a detached way that they were both strong and pleasantly handsome in their dark uniforms. Then, lying in the back of an ambulance, I heard more sirens, and began to feel wet tears streaming down my face. The euphoria I’d experienced while in the place of light was fading, replaced by a sharpening pain in my neck and shoulder. My body felt unbearably dense and heavy.
A female paramedic bent over me and said gently, “You’ll be okay, you made it. You’re going to be okay.”
I know. That’s why I’m crying.
—Excerpt From Chapter 10 of Naked in Public: A Memoir of Recovery From Sex Addiction And Other Temporary Insanities
*
When horrific memories of abuse emerge for healing/integration, it can feel like the heavy darkness blocks out all light. Overwhelm, depression, despair (de-spirit) can threaten our wellness and our very sanity. I find it interesting that the word sanity contains “saint.” Can the word insanity could be interpreted as without saintliness? Are we “insane” when we have lost connection with our “saintly” guardian angels? Some consider angels as higher vibrational, advanced levels of our embodied human selves, as my near-death encounter suggested.
In 2019, I was headed (again) into a disabling depression. I had yet another layer of extreme, painful memories emerging, and not enough support. I looked for answers, but nothing was helping. Despite being surrounded by caring people, they just could not understand what I was going through, and I felt disconnected from any form of higher consciousness support. But I kept praying for help anyway — that much I held onto from what I learned in addiction recovery: prayer and meditation, no matter what.
Around then, a friend from an OEA survivor meditation group I’d joined, Alandra Markman, offered me a free healing session. I jumped at the chance, not very hopeful, but desperate.
Desperate, another form of de-spirit!*
*As I wrote that, a group of six deer just gracefully walked in front of my parked campervan! Awwww. I find much spiritual comfort in the presence and spontaneous appearance of animals in my life. I always thought Sparky, with his sandy face, big ears, long thin legs and doe eyes, looked like a little dog-deer. He was truly an angel incarnate into puppy form, here in 2011:
What I recall from that session was Alandra asking me to write out the names of any spiritual or metaphysical beings I’d had positive, inspiring encounters with in my lifetime. This was my list — I keep it in my journal and have added to it since then, as new encounters have touched me. I have meaningful stories about each and every name on this list. As you can see, it is divided into Deieties, Ancestors, Animals/Totems, Family, Fae/Faeries, Trees, E.T.’s, and specific Places. Even though many in my family are victim-slaves of Organized Extreme Abuse, their loving, light sides have blessed me, too.
That session lifted me out of my spiritual myopia, reminding me that I had a much larger “family” than the one I grew up with (whom I’d been feeling abandoned by), and the larger loving network was available for me if I would just ASK FOR HELP.
See, that is the main thing about angels, and all beings that honor humanity’s free will, IMO…they wait to intervene on our behalf until we ask them. Dark beings barge right in to trick and enslave, but the light ones honor our sovereignty.
So if you want more positive spirituality in your life…ask, and keep asking! Sometimes if the pain overwhelms, I just say help, help, help over and over. That happens less and less often these days, but when it does, I ask for help.
So far, it has never not arrived. 🆘❤️🩹
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If you are struggling with “monkey mind” as I did (programming seeks to completely occupy the mind so we can never have peace or think to voluntarily call on light beings to help us), you might try some of the meditations I used for YEARS until my mind calmed down:
Belleruth Naparstek: Healing Trauma for PTSD Recovery
I have listened to this hundreds of times. If you buy the audio, you will receive an intro, guided healing, and affirmations, all great. I would trust that more than this YouTube version, in terms of sublimials, but this will give you a sense.
Rod Striker, Yoga Nidra: I listened to this when I could NOT get to sleep...again, I'm sure close to a thousand times over the years. Eventually I didn't need it anymore. There are other versions of Yoga Nidra if you don't enjoy this one, but Rod is my favorite.
There are longer versions.
Sandra Rolus, Self-Forgiveness, Self-Love: More recently I've practiced with Sandra Rolus, with whom I did a coaching session with in while Sedona, AZ. She was lovely, down to earth, and helpful. She has several guided meditations of different themes for free on YouTube:
Eventually I moved to a little more physical activity during meditation, via Yin Yoga (very gentle), which I love (https://www.bnf.yoga/about):
So true!
See, that is the main thing about angels, and all beings that honor humanity’s free will, IMO…they wait to intervene on our behalf until we ask them. Dark beings barge right in to trick and enslave, but the light ones honor our sovereignty.