Why Spiritual Experiences Can Ruin You

Spiritual experiences can confuse us greatly. No, spiritual experiences are not a bad thing. Heck, they're really, really, REALLY frikkin' awesome. It is a HUGE blessing and has an addicting effect on souls, and can change any life forever. Soooo then... why is it we go on retreats, start speaking in tongues, prophesying, gettin' drunk in the Spirit, then we go home and life isn't very exciting anymore? Where have the spiritual fireworks gone? Why does our spiritual life feel so... boring again?

Perhaps because we rely too much on our senses than we think.


When we feel God's presence, it's super easy to believe in Him, right? When we have the proof right in front of us, God feels so much more real to us. That's human nature. However, to really prove that you're serious about following God, He wants you to prove it by going beyond your natural human borders and discover the deeper side of love, despite the fact that you might not "sense" Him there all the time.


I heard this true story once of a formerly Catholic woman telling someone about her leaving the church because she felt like she wasn't getting anything out of it. The man then responds by saying, "Let me get this straight... You're saying that you've been consuming the literal body and blood of Christ, listening to the entire Bible plus teachings of it for years, and receiving absolution, and you haven't been getting anything out of it?"

This lady is a prime example of how the human heart can become obsessed with the stimuli of the senses. If all we really need is a spiritual experience, we can go to a Buddhist temple and be totally satisfied after that. Our reliance on experiences is what's caused all those "wars"and is why the body of Christ keeps splitting up, it is certainly not because of religion itself. It's just like our general idea of love, how gooshy feelings, soulmates, and making out and "woohooing" our weekends means romance. Or  even more commonly how in movies we know that two characters are in love because of that big kiss scene.

This is why divorce rates are so high, especially among Christians, because we worship our feelings, not the actual God Himself, which is love. Love isn't an emotion, it's an action that we choose. Love is when we choose not to yell foul words or accusations at someone, even though they've wronged us. Love is forgiving and forgetting. Love is cleaning up after the other person even when you're worn out from work. Love is laying down your life for your friends. Again, love is NOT based on feelings!!! In fact, oftentimes, true acts of love are done when the other person doesn't even want to do it.  

That is what makes the Eucharist so wonderful. It looks like a wafer, it tastes like a wafer, but we know in our hearts and minds that it is the body of Christ. There's more "magic" and power in that than any sort of feeling we may find, because we are denying ourselves and letting Jesus in physically. We may not fall to the ground crying from it, but despite that we just know that it's really truly Him. This is what faith is all about. 

Now let me say this again, spiritual highs are really sweet, and this isn't to say you won't or that you're not supposed to get "high" from taking communion, I'm just saying that love and faith is beyond us. And there is no doubt in that at all. 

Sorrow

"I’m not as okay as I like to say 
and this pain is more than they know, 
more than I show."

- Amber Hunter, This Pain 


She was funny, carefree, and wonderful in many ways. I remember walking away from her often wearing a big smile. Sure she wasn't my mom or dad, or a sibling or a best friend, but she still meant a lot to me. 

This week my favorite teacher passed away. She will be thoroughly missed.

However, this post is not a dedication to her. It is a reflection of my own heart. 

As a result of this, old worries have infected me, old sinful habits have been revisited, and pain has been bottled up. I've taken some comfort from listening to music, but it can only distract me for so long. I've been withdrawing myself from family, friends, and classmates, and wasting time in my room for many hours at a time without leaving. I didn't think for a while to call upon the Lord for help. 

After a big fall, I finally did it. I asked God for help. 

I can't tell you the difference it made in my heart. It was a strange but tender sweetness that I have never felt before.

In silent suffering, mourning, stress, and anxiety, that's where God's mercy and love can be felt the strongest. At first, especially when talking about the saints and stuff, I didn't think that their way of suffering would in any way bring me personally closer to Christ. I didn't understand why the joyful can, at times, feel more disconnected to God's sweetness than the ones who weren't. Oh, God is near at all times, people! But sorrow brings forth such a beautiful longing in us that allows us to fully experience God's peace, care, comfort, and unending love. I never thought I would get to feel that. I know that someday it'll happen to me again, maybe perhaps excruciation, but at least I can look forward to the way my spirit feels now, only better. 

Thanks, God. You really are good.

If someone you know is grieving, here is another article that you may find helpful:, so don't worry, we're in this together. 

Rosaline: A Ghost in Search of Angels

This is a very short fictional story dedicated to those who are lost, have been lost, or are always searching. 
May you find what you are looking for and chase after it with all that you are.


Wednesday:

My mother once told me when I was little to do whatever I wanted to do when I grow up, and as long as I'm happy with that, I'll get by. Those words sound so promising, but continually I ask her,"Why can't I find happiness?"

She's gone. I have her picture next to my bed. I hold it and hug it every time I see it. How I do miss her. Sometimes talk to the picture, and I know there is no way she could hear me, but it does bring comfort to me somehow. It's not like I have anyone else to talk to, they wouldn't understand anyway. I have my dad, but all he does now is lay on the Lazy Boy all day in front of the TV with a couple of beers, frozen solid, with an empty expression on his face. When I get home from school (which is a living Hell, by the way) and I say, "I'm home", the most I get out of him is a grunt. I can sit there and try to tell him about my day, but he won't move one bit, he'll just shush me because he's trying to listen to what the commercials are saying. It's like he's lost his ability to speak. The only actual words he knows how to say to me now are, "Rosaline! Beer!" Often I just ignore it.

Thursday:

I don't know what I'm really feeling. Amidst the chaos that my life is I have this daily routine that I follow religiously. Every evening, just after the sun goes down, I go to the deli on the corner of the street, sit against the wall in the back (so that no one can see me), where the boring old grey bricks are covered in graffiti. Once I get there, I sit real still, and for some strange reason, tears just flow. I pull out the necklace which hides under my hoodie, unhook the clasp, take the charm out and swiftly run it against my wrist. I watch the red run, the more the better, and like clockwork, more tears fall. Sometimes I'll just cry for hours before I can pull myself together and do my routine. It's not often, but when it does happen and I'm running a bit late, I'll be sure to give myself more to do for delaying. Once I cried for so long I was able to clearly write the word "death" on my arm. I don't really know why I had chosen that word, it just kind of... happened.

Those red dashes are somewhat therapeutic, they take my mind off other things briefly, but the bummer is that it's not really real. Real pain is what I feel on the inside, like a stirring sensation either in my heart, my head, or my stomach that just aches. It's hard to explain, but the best way I can describe it is it's like a cloud that hovers over me all the time, the darker it is the more stirring occurs.

You know what, I don't even care anymore. Sometimes I wonder why I'm even here, why I'm alive and breathing, I mean, am I even alive? Does living mean anything if no one is there to share it with you? I am completely alone, so if I weren't here, the world wouldn't miss me. I mean, I have to be honest with myself, what difference would it make if I leave? I guess death scares me a bit, not sure why.

Friday:

At school I am tired of being told what to do. Everyone acts like they're my boss, and if I don't obey their orders they'll "fire" me without even listening to what I have to say. No matter where I go I am being pressured to wear some sort of disguise, to do this with that boy, to watch that junk, to follow that leader, to believe what they believe... The list of demands is literally endless. I may be just a teen, but I am smart enough to recognize what's going on around me. Everyone claims that what they think is true, everyone believes they're right. Because this happens, how the heck am I supposed to know what's true? I wonder if it's even worth seeking.

Sometimes when my mind wonders I can't help but notice that there seems to be a million ways to fail for every one thing that can be done right. It's hard to be positive when all you ever do is fail. I don't know what's right. My head repeatedly screams, "There's an easy way out of this..... Just take it..... Give up....Leave this all behind...." And no matter how hard I try, I can't get rid of it.

It.
Won't.
Go.
Away.

Saturday:

I am nothing more than a ghost. I feel deep inside me that I have nothing; I am hollow, just drifting, wanting to make an impact on somebody, tell them my story, but I can't because what I have to say would just float right through them.

Alright, I am done talking about this. No more wasting time.

I'm finally ready.

I am going to my corner tonight for the last time. I am not brave enough to carry on. I am going to get the necklace out, ready to dive deeper than ever before. Even though that whole eternal life junk is totally bogus, I hope at least that somehow I can apologize to my mother in this way. I yelled at her so much before she left, I said some things I shouldn't, but I wish that crazy driver killed me instead. I wish that was me... I wish I could bring her back. I can't. Like that stuff they say in the movies, I want to join her.

No one will come for me.

NO one cares.

Goodbye.



Sunday:

I am not dead. It's not that I didn't have the guts to do it, it's that I was sort of... stopped. Here's what happened:

I'm at the corner, this time not bringing any music to block out outside noise ('cause what's the point), decided to get the job done quick when a van passed by the deli and stopped by the nearby stop sign, blaring music so loud that I could hear the words clearly:

"You are more than the choices that you made,
you are more the sum of past mistakes,
you are more than the problems you create..."

Then the van drove away and the song was gone.

OK, so I've always been a musical person, but I rarely consider the lyrics to stuff (you should see how few songs on my iTunes do not bear the label, "explicit"). For some bizarre reason, those lyrics hit me hard; I had this strong feeling in my chest, like my heart was punched, sort of like someone was really trying to get my attention!

I ignored it. Just a coincidence, right?

I place the tiny blade to my wrist, lift up my arm to prepare to stab, when two employees from the deli leaped out of the front door of the building shrieking and laughing out these lyrics:

"Make me feel better! I want to feel better!
Stay with me here now! And never surrender!"

 The two men walked away laughing hysterically at their goofiness. They had no idea what they just did to me. That startled me so much I had flung my necklace forward and it fell through a drain vent in front of me. What. Were. The. Chances. I knelt in front of the drain. There goes my ticket to leave tonight. 

"NO!" I screamed aloud and shuddered with rage. What I blurted out next surprised me:
"If anyone can hear me, if anyone cares, would you please give me one reason to stay?"

My cry echoed off the walls, then the street, then it faded away. No reply. I fell to the ground and sobbed. Then, out of the blue, a voice chimed in behind me;

 "Miss, are you OK?"

That startled me as well. I sat up, makeup and tears running down my cheeks. "I-I-I didn't hear you coming!" I said, "I am so, so sorry, I'm sorry I'm here..." I tried to hurry out of the area as quick as I could but then the man stopped me, "Don't depart yet!" Interesting choice of words. I froze, back turned to the man. He probably thought I was drunk or something. "I need to go..." I replied quietly.

I turned around and looked at him. He was in his sixties, short, and innocent-looking, wearing a deli uniform. He slowly reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. "Here, take this." I took it. It was a coupon for a free soda in the deli. "Peace be with you!" He passed me with a sweet smile and walked inside. I went home with the hopes of getting a new blade, but never actually looked for one. I just plopped onto my bed, and laid there for what must've been an hour, thinking...



Monday:

After school I went over to the deli to get the soda. I had nothing else to do, and there was no way I was going home to my zombie father then. I still couldn't get my mind off what happened last night. I wasn't focused on how much I hated myself anymore, I kept thinking over and over about what that little man said;

"Peace be with you!"

So I come in and the first thing I notice is the song that plays inside:

"We want a reason to live...
Going through this life, looking for angels,
people passing by, looking for angels,
walking down the street, looking for angels..."

Maybe that's what I've been looking for: angels. That's crazy, I know, but so far music and those bizarre timely events seem to be connected somehow. I don't think I've ever totally denied the existence of the supernatural, I mean, there could be angels treading upon planet Earth. Not that they'd actually care to help us out or anything. Why should they? Maybe angels do want to help people, but it's hard to because people can't see them or hear them. Am I able to see or hear angels if they existed?

All I know is that somehow all of this strangeness has made me feel... better. I actually kind of feel a little bit happy. Unfortunately this feeling is probably meaningless. Look, I'm still sorting this all out, OK?


Anyway, so I go up to the counter and hand the pimply cashier my coupon, get a Dr. Pepper from the machine next to him, and then noticed he had a name tag on. The old guy never had a name tag.

"Um, excuse me?" I asked.

"Yeah?" Cashier guy replied, voice cracking a bit.

"Can you tell me the name of one of your fellow employees?"

"Iunno, probably..."

I cleared my throat. "Well, he's kinda short, er, shorter than me, that is... He has grey hair and I'm guessing he's around sixty-something years old. Ring a bell?"

Cashier gave me a funny look. "OK, I don't know who you're talking about. I may be new at this place but I know everyone who works here. The oldest guy here isn't even forty!"

Now I've walked away from him with this remaining:

What else is there left for me to discover? Tomorrow I suppose I shall find out. I guess I've always been a seeker: constantly on the lookout for new things and continuing the search for more after I find them. Whatever this is all about, I'm kind of glad it happened. I don't think I've ever clung to a sliver of happiness with such a spirit that cherishes before. Perhaps all this time my eyes have been averted from where angels hide. Maybe they stand in front of the tv where my dad lazes around, maybe they give me support when jerks at school try to cut me down. So, I guess, if it's you God who sends angels here, I just want to say,

Thank You.


"In the midst of the most painful faces
Angels show up in the strangest of places"

Will that be all for you, MA'AM?

Hey there my java beans!

You know what really got on my nerves not too long ago? The fact that a lot of people think I'm older than I actually am.

So I am 18 now, so technically that makes me an adult, right? I do not have a problem with this. I do not have a problem with people looking at me or treating me as a young adult. I also do not have a problem with people having far higher expectations of me. All this comes naturally as you get older! Duh.

For some reason people have been thinking I am in my 20's. A lot of fishy college students are envious of this because they want to look like they are at least 21 when they make fake ID's so that they can get into all the bars and clubs. I have never done that and I will not do that, thank you very much.

A lot of people I know would ask me why I thought that that was such a bad thing. Really it wasn't, and honestly, I'm not totally sure why it bugged me so much. What set me off wasn't necessarily because grocery store clerks who are older than me always call me ma'am everytime I shop there. That would be a lame reason, anyway. It wasn't really because of the time when this one person working at the mall thought I was 23. It wasn't really when this weird guy on campus was hitting on me because he thought I was 22... No, it wasn't really any of that. It could because of this one time my dad and I went on a retreat and the young lady working their thought that we were married. OK, my dad is in his forties, and I, at the time, was 17...

I started to question myself over the matter: Is this because of my height (I am very tall)? Is it because of how much makeup I wear? Is it because I don't dress like an 18-year-old? Does this mean that I shouldn't be hanging out with high schoolers???? These stupid questions just made me feel more unconfortable. I tried not to let it really get to me, and I kept telling myself it really wasn't anything to sneeze at, I mean, it wasn't like people thought I was 35 or anything (although that situation with my dad made me question that too). But then I remembered another incident of someone thinking I was in my twenties that made me feel much better.

One of my coworkers when I first started my job asked me how old I was, and I told her I was 18 and fresh out of high school. She said, "Oh! I thought you were in your twenties because you just seem so mature and sophisticated." Then I thought, Wow! Mature? Sophisticated? ME???  

I finally drew the conclusion that me worrying about what people thought of my age is one way of being too caught up in what others think about me. So what if it is my height?? That can't be helped. Besides, I love being tall. What if it is how much makeup I wear or the way I dress? I am just expressing myself and being who I am. And who cares how old your friends are? *CLICHE ALERT* Age is only a number.

The more and more I thought about the questions I would ask myself, the more ridiculous and immature they seemed. I mean, it really doesn't matter at all. God made me this way. Even if people were to constantly tease me or make fun of me for the way I look,  I am who I am and that's who I am. I am a woman of God, I'm not a high schooler anymore. I told myself:

All that was a good mini lesson I needed to learn. I am an adult now, I need to not just act like one, but think like one too. For me, this means advancing in my relationship with God into levels I probably never would've reached when I was a bit younger. It also helped me to remember what was really important and to not take things to heart too easily those silly things that people say. So you!!!! DON'T LET WHAT PEOPLE SAY MAKE YOU FEEL UNCONFORTABLE ABOUT YOURSELF!

See you dudes and dudettes l8er.

Take..... Onnnn Meeeeee

OK guys, my favorite song right now is "Take On Me" by a-ha. It works wonders, I'm not kidding, turn it on when Daniel Thomas is screaming and throwing a fit and magically, he stops crying and starts dancing. If you guys haven't heard it, it's probably because it's an 80's song, and you youngins are too tiny to know it exists! LOL.

Yet again, I haven't been keeping up with my blog.

LAAAAAAAAME. I know. I've probably caused all of you to lose hope in my updates and therefore stopped checking my blog. I understand. But now that I'm back, pretty please come back! *Pulls out puppy dog pout*

So, there has been no progress so far in my story building either. If I don't do something about it soon, Onyx will throw a fit and cause havoc upon planet.... Urbs. Guess you'll have to wait till I pour out my imagination on paper and have you read my awesomeness. :P Don't worry guys, my story is comin' along! Well at some point it will.... be, uh, comin' along...

I have new art that will soon be posted on FaceBook! Wanna see a famous anime character, Dr. Pepper pint bottle, or a girl with firey red hair? Check back on my FB page! (After Lent is over)

I also have a slideshow of pix of me with friends, etc. that will soon hit FB and possibly Blogger too. I also hope to start up some new AMVs and Dubs of animes, etc.

Etc. Etc. Etc.

Well guys this is my latest update, check back for more!