goodbye to my elemental friend

I think my relationship with the elemental is officially over.

I went down to their forest today, as I have every few days since I’ve been home. I stood there, gazing into the quiet shaded green, trying to sense anything at all that would show that they weren’t gone. Even just for the sensation of being watched. But I felt nothing.

As I stood there, puzzled and missing them, I asked God why I couldn’t sense them anymore. “Because you have me in your heart, there is no room for anything else,” he answered.

That wasn’t the answer I wanted to hear and I fought him on it. Shouldn’t having him lodged in my heart allow me to have more room for others, not less?

He clarified that I didn’t have that aching hole in my heart anymore. I wasn’t reaching out to the elemental to satisfy my spiritual longing anymore. And then it struck me, like finally understanding a foreign language: he was the one who had brought the elemental to me in the first place.

At the time, I was lonely and not getting the companionship I craved. I was also spiritually starved, but my hatred of the church was keeping me from filling that need, too. I was stuck in limbo, and that spirit proved to be just the kind of friend I needed.

A lump rose in my throat and tears came to my eyes. I still miss my friend, but I am more grateful than ever for the time we had together. Wherever they are now and whatever they’re up to, I wish them nothing but the deepest blessings. And while I don’t know if we’ll ever meet again, I’ll keep an eye open, just in case.

Guardians and the Unguarded

We have guests staying in our house and at the same time, my sister is on a long weekend trip to the beach. Because of this, I get to sleep alone in her room for a few nights.

My sister is a very spiritually sensitive, spiritually active person. She has worked with guardian spirits in the past and even had one standing guard in her doorway for a while.

There were a few nights when I think it came into my room to investigate me. I had odd, disturbing dreams, and for a few nights in a row, I was woken up by the distinct feeling that something was charging at me, rushing at my face. However, eventually it decided I wasn’t a threat, calmed down, and left me alone.

But I haven’t been home for several months. I didn’t know if it was still around, if it had followed my sister to the beach, if it had stayed behind to guard her room, or if it even remembered me. I was concerned that it might see me as an intruder in her space.

Last night was my first night alone in her room, and I made a point to make peace with the guardian, on the off chance that it was still in her room.

I reintroduced myself, let it know what was going on, and told it that my sister had given me permission to stay in her room. I welcomed it to reach out to me if it needed further clarification or inspection, but asked it to be civil about it, since I didn’t have any intention of causing harm. I asked God to protect me as well.

As I was going to sleep, something thumped hard on the computer desk by my head. But nothing else happened. Not even nightmares.

I’m not sure if it’s even still in the room. Nonetheless, I feel better and I don’t anticipate any scary encounters tonight.

 

Stop Improving and Just Listen

My town was hit with a magnificent thunderstorm yesterday.

I watched it with the window open as I sat at my desk doing my homework.

Storms are the perfect time for cleansing and healing spells, so I set my little chunk of rose quartz and a cone of nag champa incense on my desk by the window. I asked God to bless them and use them to further his work, filling them with intention.

However, I soon realized that the scent of the incense was drowning out the gritty cleansing scent of the rain. I quickly put my incense away and left the stone by itself on the desk.

As a human, my first thought in any situation is how to make it better. But instead, my first thought should be to listen. It’s a difficult habit to break, but one I must work on if I want to start dismantling that wall between myself and nature.