I hear a Voice. That’s about it, really.
I didn’t always; the first time I heard that Voice was when my best friend Johnny opened his Buddhist altar to show me what was inside. As those altar doors swung wide, visible waves of sparkly, effervescent joy tumbled out to greet me, followed by a crystal clear Voice that spoke out loud inside my head.
And the Voice said:
LONG TIME NO SEE.
Okaaay. I was a dark and snarky 27 year-old club kid at the time, but that Voice was hard to ignore, so I let it lead me on a breathtaking journey of spiritual discovery that continues to this day.
But unexpected as it was at the time, the arrival of that Voice was not my first brush with Crazy. As a child I was tormented nightly by light-filled ghosts. And I never could predict when time might stutter or stop without warning, or when spatial blips might cause buildings or whole city blocks to appear or disappear at will. I never really doubted my own sanity; the likelier explanation was just that the universe hated me.
Although my brain sometimes seemed to work differently from the brains of others, I just thought it meant I was weird. Or spacey. Or maybe low blood sugar-y.
I never possessed the understanding or the vocabulary until very recently to call these things what they were: Visions. Trances. Out of body experiences. And nobody was more surprised than me to realize, decades after the fact, that those light-filled ghosts weren’t ghosts at all. And they most definitely did not hate me.
I was always deeply ashamed and afraid of my weirdness. My differentness. But now at this advanced stage of life I say: Screw it. This is what I am. This is what I do. I get messages from Spirit, and I pass them on. So this is me, giving notice that I’m officially out of the spiritual closet.
My book (besides being the story of how all this came to be) is filled with messages from Spirit, and you’re welcome to ‘em. And I’ll keep passing those messages along as I receive them, for anyone who’s interested.
To paraphrase Deepak: I’ll just be singing in the shower. Y’all are welcome to listen at the door if you choose.
Just don’t peek in the keyhole. That would be creepy.