"Life Is A Mystery" By Carolyn Casas

Recently, I started making notes to piece together a story about mysteries that have happened to me. When I made a list, I realized two things – first, there have been more than a few mysteries and, second, they are happening more often in recent years. I like mysteries, coincidences, synchronicities, serendipitous occurrences. I pay attention and watch for them. I believe they are signs, guidance from a power wishing us well on our paths.  


One day, a friend called to tell me she thought she lost her earrings at my house. She had come to our house several days earlier for a meeting and had parked on the land above our house. Getting out of the car, she had forgotten her earrings were laying on her lap. She thought they had probably fallen to the ground in the near dark. I went out to look for them in the area where the cars had been parked. Nothing. I very much wanted to find them for her. I stopped searching after a while and walked over to look at the fruit trees in our orchard. Then I asked the angels if they would help. My friend’s mother had been very sick and wasn’t expected to live much longer. These days had been hard for both, and since there wasn’t much more I could do, I just wanted to be able to give her the lost earrings. As soon as I asked for help, I walked directly over to one of the hundreds of gopher holes dotting our property and saw the shining green stones down at the bottom.


I love the way exactly the book you need falls into my hands when I most need it. For me, this has mostly happened when I search for healing from grief or difficulty. Books that were a solace made their way to me by different routes after my father’s passing. That same year a dear friend told me about a book called Loving What Is, months before she died in a plane crash in Mexico. This author’s books became a lifeline for me in the grief I faced after losing my father and then my friend. Books I believe my friend chose for me.


One night, some years ago, I had an experience that affected me greatly. It was a momentary intense sensation of love and unity with all the world. Words cannot describe the feeling. It only happened once; but that was enough for me to know what is possible.


Another time a mystifying experience happened after reading a newsletter from a woman who writes about angels, someone I had once met. She suggested to have better communication with our angels, we should ask them for a sign. I decided to try it. The next morning, before dawn, I unexpectedly wrote seven short poems, one after the other.  I had never been very interested in poetry. This experience led to a journey of writing hundreds of poems over the past two years and many of them being published in magazines that focus on topics of healing.


In the traveling I have done, I never felt drawn to Asia, although I feel a connection to the teachings of Buddhism. Before I ever paid attention to the details of Buddha statues, I started making one of the hand positions, what I now know is the abhaya mudra, in the shower each morning. This mudra symbolizes dispelling fear, the energy of protection, peace and inner security. The energy healing that I practice originated in Japan. I have been doing exercises every morning for more than five years that came out of a monastery in Tibet. Once my son and went to see a psychic friend together. In a reading, she told us we have lived many lifetimes together. In the past life she saw during the reading, my son and I oversaw a healing spiritual center, like an ashram, in a cold area of Asia. It seems that on a few levels, I have a connection to Asia.


Some mysteries have come to me while traveling. My theory is that when you travel to places that are very different from what you are used to, at the same time wanting to be consciously open to the new things you are experiencing, this can bring about a higher level of union. Eight years ago, my son and I went to Spain and Portugal, our first trip alone together. Three special incidents happened there.

  

We had three flights from California to Seville and the first two left and arrived late. This stressed me because we had a non-refundable hotel room and activities reserved for the next day, which was my birthday. As our second flight was finally landing in Lisbon, I realized we only had a few minutes until the flight to Seville would leave. We needed to go through immigration and customs first and we were on the tarmac waiting an agonizing amount of time for the steps to arrive. As we sat on that parked plane realizing we probably would not make the flight, I just relaxed and let go. I assured my higher guides that I could leave it in their hands, and if we were supposed to stay in Lisbon that night, I knew we would be taken care of.  


Debarking from the plane, at the bottom of the stairs, a man stood holding a sign for us. Of all the passengers on the plane, only we were whisked away in an airport vehicle, which drove quickly to a far-off building. We were guided up the stairs to the second floor, dragging our suitcases, where he took us to the front of the long immigration line. Once finished, he rushed us to another building, where he hurried us to the front of the customs line, past the grumpy looks of other passengers. Then he drove us out on the runway to the plane. The flight’s departure time had passed by fifteen minutes, but the flight attendant was waiting for us in the open doorway. The other passengers were waiting in a very hot plane. Only the two front seats were open. There were even bag lunches on them. My son looked at me and asked, “What just happened; did you arrange for that?” Of course, I hadn’t. Well, maybe in a way, I had helped.


Later, on this same tip, something happened that I will never forget. It was our first day in a rental car. My son was twenty-one and he requested to drive. We had somewhat nervously made our way out of the city of Seville to Arcos de la Frontera, one of the quaint white hill towns of Spain. Our corner room in a historical parador looked out over a large canyon. Thankful to have arrived safely, I sat out on the windy balcony, watching birds ride the air currents at my eye level. My father had passed a little over a year before and I missed him. I wondered if he would be proud of me, making this adventurous trip with my son, who he very much had loved. I was so out of my comfort zone with us driving in a foreign country. I sat with that thought for some time, letting the wind whip through my hair. Then I went back into the room and went to sleep. 


The next morning, I woke up first and turned on my phone to see the time. There was one text on my phone, and it read, “Dad is proud of you,” from my brother. I had not talked to him since we left, and he knew nothing about my musings. I texted him asking why he had sent this message.  He responded that he had had a dream that night where he was with our father. He told me the dream had seemed so real because when he ran over and hugged him, he smelled and felt like our dad. In the dream, he looked at my brother and said, “I am proud of your sister.” It brought tears to my eyes. Dad had answered my question.


Another surprising experience happened in that same town. We had decided on an outing that day, driving to places in the surrounding area, using a GPS a friend had lent me from home. We walked in picturesque towns, visited castles, and drove through rolling Spanish scenery. At dusk we returned to the outskirts of Arcos and were trying to navigate the labyrinth of streets to our hotel. The old town had the original walled, curving streets, many having been turned into one-way lanes which even in our small rented car were a tight fit. The GPS didn’t seem to be able to handle the one-ways, sometimes directing us to enter streets against traffic and it had sent us twice around the perimeter of the town and back to the same starting point. It was almost dark and as we saw no solution in sight; I was becoming uneasy and discouraged. I didn’t want our wonderful day to end stressfully. In the back of my mind, I remembered reading something about guidance that said you must ask if you want help because guides will not interfere unless asked. At that moment, I said in a low whisper, “Help us find our hotel, please.” The second I made this silent supplication, the GPS, that up to then had directed us in repeated circles, recalculated the route, leading us directly to the hotel just as the sun went down.


The other journey where I had serendipitous spiritual experiences was four years ago in India.  The most important to me, considering how much it has affected so many parts of my life, was the seed of Reiki being planted on this trip. One of the women in travel group was injured falling into a hole in the houseboat we were travelling on. I watched that day and the next as another woman in our group speeded up her healing using Reiki.  In another place, I was told out of the blue by a stranger that I had a white aura.  Having no idea what this meant, I asked him. He responded that it meant I could do healing work. Later, in yet another town, an Australian man, who I met walking down a road one morning, told me he felt led to give me an astrological reading, at no charge. Of course, at first I was skeptical, but after talking to him I saw he truly felt guided. The possibility of doing healing work also came up in the reading, something that I have never even slightly considered.  


Seven months after this trip, working with a Reiki master, I had the experience of a channel opening in my body. That day I distinctively felt energy start flowing up through my feet to my heart, down my arms and out my hands. I consider this experience the most mysterious moment of my life. That I am able to practice an art that helps people is something I give thanks for every day. In a burst of knowing, surely on a subconscious level, I started giving Reiki sessions immediately. It’s almost like my body and soul remembered it from another time.  


You could say these were mere coincidences.  Maybe.  But they were the crumbs on a path that led me to a more authentic and creative life.  When I followed these incidences of guidance, my life flowed more effortlessly.  Ideas I could use to help friends came to me easily.  Time ran more smoothly too – activities usually seemed to fit flawlessly into each day; there was time for everything I wanted to get done.  It’s not always this way; life still has its difficult moments.  Nevertheless, this newer way of being has become the norm of my experiences rather than the exception.  I thank the mysteriousness of life for this.  


About Carolyn:  Carolyn Chilton Casas is a Reiki Master, practitioner and teacher, a student of metaphysics and philosophy. She is so thankful for life, the precious gift of healing energy, the soul-stirring desire for writing stories and poetry that is evolving with Reiki as part of the package, and fellow beings who share the journey. Carolyn can be contacted at ceccasas@aol.com. 



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