Last week tornados devastated the Midwest. It takes your breath away. “What is the most important question one can pose?” Einstein was asked. He answered: “Is the Universe a friendly place?” The question can be expressed another way: Is our present pessimism – even paranoia—realistic, justified? Certainly it seems so, doesn’t it? Terrible things happen. Tornados sweep away your house in seconds, tsunamis destroy whole landscapes, mudslides, earthquakes, fire, flood, disease, war, death leave us devastated. It is easy to fall into the slough of doubt and despair. Is the Universe a friendly place? How can a loving God allow such things? If God is omnipotent, all powerful– how can we experience such distress? If God is all-loving–? If God is–? Is God–? “What is going on?” we cry. They say that every time you frame the question, “WHY”— you are crying out to God.
Remember, we aren’t promised that nothing bad will happen in our lives, but that when they do we’re not alone. Angels, metaphorically and in person, are there to guide us, warm us, comfort, heal us. One evening my friend Margaret fell into conversation with a woman whom she didn’t know.
The woman told Margaret that for months and months her father, a determined agnostic, had been desperately ill. One morning he phoned his daughter to report that something extraordinary had happened the night before. He was still shaken by it.. In the middle of the night, he said, he was awakened by the overpowering scent of roses in the room. He opened his eyes, fully awake, and saw a young mother and her little girl standing in the corner of his bedroom. He did not know them. They smiled at him, lingered some moments, and disappeared, leaving behind them the strong scent of roses.
Speaking on the phone to his daughter he insisted that the aroma of roses was still noticeable, but more remarkable he felt stronger, better. The scent lingered for about twenty-four hours. Her father recovered from his devastating illness and was never the same, having had this brush with the Other World.
We have angels, cavalries of angels riding to our aid. All we have to do is ASK. We don’t even have to believe in angels or in God or in a spiritual dimension, but whenever our hearts cry out – ‘Oh help!’—it comes. Watch for it. Listen. Write down those moments when suddenly aid arrived, and remember that the more grateful you are, the more you will notice, for the more you give thanks the more you will receive. Gratitude is the doorway through which the angels dive.
I never ask “Why me”. I always ask “What for”. And after it I complete task.
That’s brilliant! There should be more like you. I know too many people who are still saying, “why me?” when instead they could just say “why?” or “why not?” But I like your “what for” best! sophy
I like that response…will endeavor to absorb it into my psyche.
I think it takes a lot of time, effort and tears to get to the point where we see everything, both positive and negative, as a gift. But it is a journey worth embarking on as it brings great peace. I wish I could say I am there, but I have had enough glimpses to be sure it is worth the continued effort.
i totally agree. it takes patience & practice. I find oddly that the Bhagavad-Gita is the helpful of sacred texts on this matter…. but of course ALL the religions tell us this. If only we could listen.
Hi Sophy. Thanks for reminding me to go to your blog. The story of Margaret’s father is much like what happened to me the night my mother passed. We were visiting China for the first time in 28 years. My mother was 91 years old, and determined to go to China. She willed herself well enough to go, passed the medical exam and got a green light to fly. She caught pneumonia on the plane over and was terribly ill immediately. We arrived Friday, by Saturday, we took her to the emergency room, they transferred her to ICU and she was there for 20 hours. She refused treatment of any kind so out of frustration, they released her. That evening, there was a big banquet for all the family members, many of whom had traveled great distances to see her. We didn’t think she could go, but as soon as she was back at the hotel, she announced she was going to the banquet. We cleaned her up, dressed her, put make-up on her, dolled her up and away we went. She was radiant. She ate, toasted, smiled, gave a speech in Chinese, passed out red envelopes full of money to everyone, and had her photo taken with each family. In these photos, one can see her fade slowly until she was asleep. She never really woke up. That was Monday night. By Wed, she was unconscious. On Thursday, I was sleeping next to her, she was on oxygen. At 2:30 a.m. I checked her and she was breathing quietly. At 3:30 a.m. I was awakened by a sweet, crystalline sounding voice of a young woman, a fairy like voice. I sat up, thinking Mother was talking to someone. She was barely breathing. I threw my arms around her and told her to go over to them, they are waiting, go. You’ve been a wonderful mother. You are much loved. You are not alone. They are all there waiting for you….I said these things over and over, quietly into her ears. Her arms raised up, her back arched slightly, then the arms dropped. I felt an energy pass through me. She was gone. No sadness. I continued talking to her for another 10 minutes or so and I felt the presence of ancestors crowded in that room and felt the warm homecoming she was receiving. Later, I called my brother and he came to sit with her. We had her alone to ourselves until our cousins came and announced she had passed.
I recount this in detail because I want to share my new understanding of “Angels” and “God” and Spirit of the Universe. After having heard The Voice and understood that I was being awaken from the Other Side, I realize that what I always thought was God or Angels are really my ancestors who care about me. Spirit of the Universe is indifferent to my personal well-being, It being the perfect Way of the Tao, Nature doing what it’s suppose to do, that I don’t believe It is the one answering prayers or looking after me. The Chinese have always honored their ancestors, beseeching them to intercede for them. Now that I know, truly KNOW, there are spirits, my ancestors, on the other side, I find myself praying to them, thanking them for having watched over me, cared for me for 68 years.
Today, I feel the presence of my mother, my grandmother, my father hovering around me. I give thanks to them daily. I think “God” is a word that means a “Spirit Who Cares” so today, I say God and think of my Spirit Mother, my Spirit Father, my Spirit Grandmother.
Transcending the rational, “Aye, there’s the rub;” because we are taught not “to go there.” Some transition much more easily than others; very few do so easily. Your essay reminds me of Baudelaire’s poem “Bénédiction” in ” Les Fleurs du Mal,” which is about poets—but even more so about mystics: . I think the mother in the poem is a symbol for life, which can be very cruel. My favorite line, which you will like, Sophy, is this one: “Pourtant, sous la tutelle invisible d’un Ange,/ L’Enfant déshérité s’envire de soleil.” Ancient cultures taught that all of us have a guardian spirit/angel—a tradition that is now only a faint whisper, an old Victorian print of two small children crossing a rickety bridge with an angel overhead. We live in a rational world, which has condemned spirits to the world of the imaginary or the mad.
As Proust said, “Be grateful to those who make you happy. They are the enchanting gardners who make our souls blossom.” Thank you for the roses, Sophy. Merci mille fois! (Thank you a thousand times! as the French say).
It is high time that I began listening in earnest for this faint whisper from my guardian angel/spirt…maybe start by cleaning some of the rational wax as in “if there’s not proof, it’s not real” out of my ears so I can better hear that guardian spirit.
Malheureusement, tout le monde ne comprends pas le francais. Pourquoi pas traduire ces mots de Beaudelaire?
lesquels mots? Oh, you mean in Elisabeth’s comment:
Pourtant, sous la tutelle invisible d’un Ange
L’Enfant desherite s’envire de soleil.
Yet, under the guidance of an invisible Angel
the deprived Child moves toward sunlight.
Lovely, inspiring! And the comments as well!
The timing for receiving your email that linked me to this blogpost could not have been more perfect!! THANK YOU!!
Sophy, thank you for putting me in the loop to receive your posts. Margaret’s story gave me chills. Ever since Mexico I have been aware of the presence of my angels and they have helped me often. Would love to see you when you back here again.