darth_stitch | Through the Looking Glass

Tonight, I had another one of those episodes that I quietly call “going through the Looking Glass.”

Once upon a time, I took a Shamanism elective class way back in University. Understand that I’ve never considered myself remotely psychic, clairvoyant, having a third eye and whatnot. I write for a living; storytelling is my hobby. Obviously, I have a wild imagination. If a Purple People Eater suddenly appears in my living room – I know I’ve been watching too much Ally McBeal again. That sort of thing.

The teacher of that class was one of the better-known mystics/psychics in my country. In the Philippines, believing in the supernatural is a matter of course. Ghost stories, tales about dwarves (duende) and fairies, vampires (aswangs – who are said to feast on unborn fetuses, ick, I know) and oh yes – Blair Witch-like tales of getting lost in the mountains/woods occasionally appear in the news.

Surreal? You bet. Do we actually BELIEVE in this stuff? Let’s just say…we take precautions and act accordingly.

Anyway, our “culminating activity/final exam” for that class was a Spirit Quest. In other words, we were supposed to go to certain empty classrooms in two groups, select a medium and attempt (oh yes, I kid you not) to contact any wandering spirits, comfort them and send them on their way to a higher plane and find some peace.

The University I went to is a pre-World War II institution. It has its share of ghosts. One of the most horrific massacres of the Japanese Occupation happened in our own chapel. When the Americans came to liberate Manila, crazed Japanese soldiers slaughtered several religious Brothers in that chapel.

For some truly strange WARPED reason, I was picked as the medium.

It was the most unnerving experience of my life.

I won’t try to convince you that what I felt and experienced that night was real. I don’t know myself. All that I’m sure of was that I touched something, something beyond my ken. It’s cliché but it’s the only phrase I can think of – I definitely had an encounter with “forces beyond my comprehension.”

And ever since that night, I’ve had…a feeling for this kind of thing. A sense of knowing, a weird sort of instinct, intuition – I can’t describe it. I refuse to say I’m psychic or something like that. (snorts) As if! I don’t do crystal balls or tea leaves – thanks very much Professor Trelawney. I don’t go around seeing spirits and talking to invisible people – I may be a little bit on the weird side but I’m perfectly sane.

Still, I get funny feelings. Weird little twitches of intuition. I accept that – you have no idea how many times I’ve avoided trouble that way.

And it’s happened again tonight.

I’m part of a Block Rosary. It’s a Catholic thing. Once a week, we go from house to house, bearing the image of the Blessed Virgin and St. Jude. The homeowner welcomes us, we pray a bit, read a Bible passage, do a little reflecting and come back in another week to bring the images to another house. In the meantime, the homeowner, during that week, usually prays the rosary with the entire family in tow.

It’s a nice tradition. Trust me.

Anyway, this night, we went over to this new house. We had in our company a Brother who was something of a mystic himself – a healer, I was told. For some strange reason, the owner couldn’t let us inside yet and let us fix up a makeshift altar in the garage.

It turns out that our homeowner had some serious personal problems. Family squabbles, that kind of thing.

And while we prayed, I happened to look in one of the windows and felt…

Oh God, even typing it down sounds like cliché.

Damn it. Fine. I felt a shadow, a presence in that house. Something…wrong.

When we were done praying, the Brother, who obviously sensed it, starting sprinkling holy water all over the garage and the little garden. On impulse, I told him: could you please bless the inside of the house too?

Which he did – I think he already knew what I meant and probably had a better sense of it than I did.

When we were done with the little welcoming prayers and stuff (we skipped the Bible thing, seeing as it wasn’t the right time), we were finally led outside by the very thankful homeowner, who was finally finding some comfort in her present troubles.

And then, I just blurted this out, staring all the while back at the house. “You know, what’s in your house, that presence, that…thing? It’s not from outside. It’s coming from your hearts. You’re inviting it in.”

The Brother gave me a look. He got it.

I have no idea why I said that but something in me felt right about it.

The homeowner’s eyes widened. The Brother gave her good advice and the rest of us offered her comforting words – we felt so helpless, but we did the best we could.

All I knew was that it wasn’t a ghost or an evil spirit troubling that house. Not quite. What was wrong was them, a lack of understanding and compassion and love that soured relationships and made living there difficult. “Negative vibes” – someone remarked. It’s silly, I know, but I think that was the closest thing to it.

So tonight, I came from a “haunted” house. Not haunted like in “Sixth Sense” (I see dead people) but shadowed with anger and resentments and petty grievances. And it invites…shadows. An ill presence.

Sometimes, it’s not enough to just pray</>. It’s not enough to thump the Bible and say “praise the Lord” and look down with smug self-righteousness on so-called “sinners.” It’s not enough to go to Sunday Service or Mass just so people can call you “decent” and “Christian.”

We keep missing the Good Teacher’s point. We keep on forgetting love and compassion and understanding – the sort of genuine feeling that comes from a refusal to judge people blindly, based on stupid blind prejudice. If there's a deadly sin in this planet right now, prejudice has GOT to be it.

The sort of good feeling I'm talking about comes from an open heart and mind, a sweet simple acceptance that is free of any shadows at all.

More tomorrow.