More true stories of experiences which point toward the possibilities of Spirit and connectedness…(from a book-in-progress)

“Christic Cup” (2010)

I visit my devout Christian friend Gloria Okes Perkins in Springdale to discuss and appreciate poems from her new book After Eden, and also to request her to pray with me that I might receive the spirit of Christ more deeply.

During our period of silent prayer, Gloria “hears” a message she feels is meant for me, ” Take of this cup and drink to your heart’s content” or similar Biblical words.

Without knowing this yet, I see a tall grail cup overflowing with white light, which is also Christ’s body of Light, its arms outstretched downward in blessing. I take the cup and drink its contents down, and prayer light shines inside me.

“Button, Button” (2011)

I’m home, cleaning feverishly, after finally getting over a hell of a fever, which turned into a systemic infection and got me hospitalized for five days.

Now, as I scour out a drawer in our bathroom, I automatically toss a little black button into the already burgeoning waste basket, immediately after doing which I remember the way the Irish offer coins and buttons to the faery folk in wild places, or at sacred sites or springs.

I regret letting that button go, and think to begin a reconnaisance mission to pick through all the stuff in the stuffed waste basket and find it. But the task looks daunting, and results uncertain, so I abandon the search and forge ahead with my drawer-clearing project.

Several days later, Kathleen comes on her weekly visit to clean our house. After she’s left, having emptied the waste baskets and swept and mopped, I walk back into our bathroom and spy the same black button sitting solo on the tile floor a few feet from that very drawer.

No other item of the hundreds of small scraps and bits of trash from my fast cleaning foray remain, but somehow, the button has turned up again, and I take it outside right away and offer it to the fay folk of this part of Fayetteville in a part of our garden devoted to their presence and pleasure, shaking my head in wonder and wondering, “Now what were the chances of that happening?”

“ Finding Rings” (1983 and 2011)

My golden wedding band ‘s been lost and found two times. First, at our old house, where I somehow lose it in the grass of the large yard. I can’t find it myself, and after a month or so,
I just give up the search. A short time later, after reading about ‘geopathic earth zones’ in Tompkins’ and Bird’s book Secrets of the Soil, I ask the master dowser and healer Harold
McCoy (featured prominently in Elizabeth Lloyd Mayer’s wonderful book Extraordinary Knowing: Science, Skepticism, and the Inexplicable Powers of the Human Mind, 2007) to come over and check our home and land for any unhealthy or noxious subterranean influences.

Harold cruises the yard with his dowsing rods. First he passes a big cluster of bushes near our house, where a few years previously I had invited the local nature spirits to hang out. I don’t tell Harold of this prior invitation, but as he passes the bushes, he exclaims, “Oh, the nature spirits love it right here. They’re just sparkling in there.”

Next he dowses several veins of underground water, one or two of which flow under our home and which may be unsettling or less than optimal for our health, according to the findings of
dowsers and others experienced with this rather esoteric field of healing lore. Harold “treats” the underground streams like an acupuncturist would a human patient, inserting long copper
needles into two specific spots in the body of the earth close to our house. As he’s strolling from one of these insertion points to the next, he suddenly says, “What’s this?” in surprise, and I watch his hand plunge down into the tawny grass and grasp and pull something up. He hasn’t picked a flower; it’s my lost, wandering ring!

The ring wears well on my left hand from that moment to a day in 2011 when, having lost quite a bit of weight during a recent
illness, it fits so loosely on my finger that I inadvertantly fling it off while tossing clumps of autumn-fallen leaves from off the path outside the front door of our second home.

Again I search and search, to no avail. I ask the nature spirits of the area to help me, and envision them somehow returning the ring from wherever it lies hidden under leaves and greening
ground cover to an easy-to-see place on the concrete pad directly fronting our front steps.

No miracles occur at first, but about a week after this visualization-invitation for assistance, the gutter-screen replacement crew I’d hired comes to do its work, and Richard, the head guy on the crew, walks through a plant-tangled part of the yard to the side of the concrete pad. He sees a swift metallic blur, and hears a “ping,” then sees he’s somehow kicked a ring out from under the groundcover while walking, and there it lies, right on the spot where I’d recently envisioned it being magically returned!

Richard rings our doorbell, my ring in hand, and Leslie comes out the front door and receives it and the story of its sudden reappearance. She can hardly wait to show me, and when I come downstairs a few minutes later, she holds it in her closed
fist, says, “I have a surprise for you,” and then reveals my twice-found ring. I tell her about my request for assistance a week earlier, and we marvel together, “Now what
were the chances of that happening?”

“We Think Along the Same Green Lines” (2011)

One evening in early Spring, after planting kale and mixed mesclan greens seeds in our cold frame, I lie abed a-dreaming while awake of green vegetables– the look, the sleek new
greens, the taste of moist, rain-fattened leaves on my imaginal tongue.

I’m loving all this complex, conscious, beckoning, beautiful green soul-food, when Leslie enters the half-darkened, waking-dream-drenched room. I tell her I’ve been thinking of Spring greens, and she exclaims in amazement that she’s just been engaged in the same exact spontaneous contemplation. We feel that flash of deep connective joy that comes when
oneness suddenly reveals itself, and we feel held by what is always holding us, the seeds, the greens-to-be, the whole sweet seamless dreamlike scene.