On Being Visited by an Angel
There are life forms well beyond what we usually experience
Full disclosure: I have never been a person who believed in angels. Angels, to me, were merely poetic metaphors, the etheric embodiments of hard-to-describe feelings that some religiously-inclined people experienced when betwixt and between — some kind of fairy tale mix of loneliness, love, and longing for something beyond what their own two eyes could see.
Hovering somewhere between God and the Easter Bunny, angels struck me as nothing more than projections, the astral version of what imaginative children have been inventing for centuries — “invisible friends.”
This all changed for me one unforgettable night in 1974.
I was 27, two years into my first marriage, and all was not right with the world, at least not with my world. To most outside observers, my marriage looked just fine. We were a good-looking couple, had wonderful friends, great jobs in a children’s hospital, and the same inspiring spiritual master. We grew lettuce, tomatoes, and watermelons in our garden, but at the same time, we were growing further apart. The honeymoon was over, replaced by a strange brew of second thoughts, boredom, and judgment.
My response to the situation, honed from many past lives as a monk? “Go within,” a…
