To those of us who are aware of spiritual metaphysics we are of the One Mind, understood as an endless arch of golden light with no boundaries or conflict. Some say Light of the divine sustained by an endless Ray of love that is God. This is What we are.
It is our inner connectedness within the One Mind that gives us our consciousness and a life perhaps where crazy coincidences occur.
The process of spiritual connection, or called by some as a “psychic medium” or “psychic link,” can be likened to a single seed sowed and to become a glorious and radiant field of flowers.
A Course in Miracles states, “Reality needs no cooperation from you to be itself. But your awareness of it needs your help, because it is your choice.”
Speaking of crazy coincidences or psychic medium or psychic link, perhaps spiritual metaphysics, if you will, or even covert hypnosis, I’ll share a bit about my experiences of spiritual connection when I needed it the most. Miracles, if you will.
While in prison for eight long years I have received honest and helpful words from others I have never met before from all over the world, but no one has indicated how they received my name, address, and situation.
It seemed to be a mystery and I never had a clue otherwise how some had gotten in touch with me, other than by word of mouth.
Some had given me a source, but they can’t tell me how their source was able to pass along my contact information.
A postcard showed up from a retired literary agent, Barb, typed on an old-fashioned typewriter with a worn key.
This, she said, was her style when writing to friends.
But how did I suddenly become her friend?
I can’t answer that.
My guess is that she was somehow connected to a writing correspondence course I once enrolled in.
Also odd was that I only heard from her once, with no return address on the postcard, and surprisingly while I was studying and writing about the metaphysics of A Course in Miracles.
I believe she lives in Colorado, as she briefly described the beauty of the Rocky Mountains, how she’s living life to the fullest, and she wrote that she is “with me in spirit.”
She added that her business connections had dwindled since her retirement, helped her husband rehab from alcohol, which was a “chore” she said, but he he was willing and between the two of them they “got ir’dun.” By the way, alcohol rehab can be deadly.
But she did lead me to a resource directory that would possibly help me obtain a publisher for my books. She warned me of the uphill climb I was facing and encouraged me to continue.
No frills or thrills. That was it. But somehow her postcard itself was my thrill. I use it as a bookmarker to this day in my copy of A Course in Miracles.
In a related article I expand on the inner life and similar circumstances.
Another letter showed up from a romance novelist named Susan, urging me to keep my pen in hand, along with other inspiring words. She added that I should not “wait for the ink to dry.” I took this as encouragement to keep moving forward, never stopping.
All she could tell me further was that she had run into an old friend of mine while out to lunch on a Sunday afternoon. I never found out who it was.
Joel, a man who plays the cello in a symphony orchestra, had written me several letters, giving me insight on how to pick out the cello amongst all the instruments during a performance.
Now, when I listen to the all-night classical music station on my radio, I can easily bring to mind the cello line.
This new skill adds something a bit ethereal to my listening pleasure. There were many late nights or wee morning hours when I’d listen to classical music that soothes me.
For this new understanding of each instrument in the orchestra, I have Joel to thank for this spiritual connection.
Later during the course of our correspondence, Joel did confess that he had been given my contact information by his church in New York City—though I don’t know how it got there, and I don’t know anyone in New York.
He and his wife live in Manhattan but go to church on Staten Island.
I was born at an army hospital on Staten Island in 1957. Just a coincidence? Or, a miracle?
The most exciting letters I’ve received were from a woman in Croatia, her name is Nakita, who offered me tremendous inspiration.
She told me of a man from the United States she once met while he was visiting her country on a concert tour. He sang and played guitar professionally.
She went on to tell me that she had heard him perform at an area concert for world peace, and that he was on a similar spiritual path as myself. Through friends of hers, she was able to meet this musician and spend some quality time together.
During their discussions Nakita discovered his passion for the lessons and principles contained in A Course in Miracles. Her encouragement for me to keep the faith and all that “stuff” has proven to be successful.
To your awareness of spiritual metaphysics,
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