A calling

I’ve ummed and ahhed about blogging about this, because I’m sure it will seem totally wacky and off the wall. But the bottom line is that I’ve promised myself that this will be an honest blog so promise you won’t get me committed to the loony bin if you plan to read on.  I want to assure you that I don’t wear cheesecloth and am as sane as the next person (well, most of the time anyway).

For several days and nights I kept having a recurring, nagging what I can only describe as an ‘urge’ to go to the Mont Saint Michel (thankfully I don’t live too far away).  I kept dreaming about it, it kept popping into my head during random ‘quiet mind’ moments such as when I was driving the car thinking about nothing in particular. I also kept inadvertently coming across texts about ley-lines and places particularly charged with energy and found myself sending ridiculous messages to faraway friends urging them to respond to any instincts they might be having to go to places they may be feeling drawn to. In the end the compulsion was so strong that, learning as I am to trust my inner guidance, I actually sent my clients off viewing on their own (I’m an estate agent) and drove to the Mont Saint Michel.  When I arrived the wind was absolutely glacial and was howling across the bay, the type of biting cold that physically hurts. As I got out of the car I fell to the floor, ripping my trousers open and grazing both my knees. Ok, this is the bit that sounds delusional; I felt as if I had been pushed, as if something was trying to stop me going further.  I actually found myself looking all around me to see who was responsible, but of course in weather like that I was alone in the car park.  I had a determined little voice in my head that kept insisting ‘Keep going, keep going’ and I thought to myself, in somewhat stronger language than I would care to see in print ‘I’ve come this far, I’m not backing down now’. It was a long walk to the top in a ridiculously strong wind that was almost powerful enough to blow me over the higher I got.

Eventually I reached the sanctuary of the abbey itself, and there, fittingly close to a statue of the Archangel Michael whom I have regularly asked for assistance during recent weeks, I just sat. I sat there for a couple of hours and aside from a short prayer at the beginning and the end I just cleared my mind and waited. I don’t know what I was expecting after all the drama of getting there.  There were no bright lights and incredible revelations, no voices or obvious messages.  But on two separate occasions during my meditation I felt gently but physically jolted, enough to make me come to with a start (in much the same way that sometimes in a dream you wake suddenly because you’re falling) and on both occasions I had the sensation that something had entered my body.  It wasn’t overwhelming, in fact it was very modest, but nevertheless I am left with the very strong conviction that I had been given two gifts.  I have absolutely no idea whatsoever what they are, but I am certain that if I am patient all will become clear.  And at the very least I spent a peaceful afternoon recharging my batteries and getting my thoughts back in order. OK, end of my ramblings, there’s a nice, cosy straitjacket calling me…