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I have posted this here on the blog because it is too big to put on facebook. I welcome your replies, either here or over on fb.
CONTENT WARNING: A mention of narcissism, and description of dark arts.
It is hard to launch into this story without wanting to set up the background, but that might take quite a while.
Here’s a quick preface:
I grew up with a very difficult mother who has all the signs of narcissistic personality disorder, and I did not escape unscathed. Instead of being able to stand up to opposition, when people disapproved of what I did, I just tried harder and harder to be pleasing. And the more pleasing I got, the more some people didn’t like it.
I am a highly sensitive person (HSP) and an empath.
In 1982, all alone, in a church, I had a full Kundalini awakening, union with God, and out of body experience, and was forever transformed. I had no idea what had happened to me, and did not know until about 2002. Here’s a blog entry if you want to read more: http://blueheron53.wordpress.com/2013/09/05/ii-empath-mystic-whats-this-all-about/
Apparently, there are people who can visually see when your Kundalini life force, qi, energy, whatever the heck you want to call it, is shining out the top of your head. For years, little kids and babies stared at the top of my head in wonder, like my hair was on fire or something. They brought me little gifts like dandelions, clovers, pine cones (similar to what they were seeing?). Animals would come and sit by me. Some adults who could see thought I was a prophet or something. Or something. All I knew was that I was completely in touch with God and the things I did automatically and effortlessly came through that. They don’t teach that Hindu / Buddhist stuff in the Christian church. Too bad. It sure would have saved me a lot of trouble.
Maybe someday I’ll take the time to tell how we ended up at the Pentecostal Holiness church — I’ll call it FC. Mainly, we were sent there to a healing service and my husband was healed of a head injury. He’d been disabled for three years. After the healing, he went back to work and had another whole 20 years of career. Why wouldn’t we stay, right?
We stayed at FC and its affiliate plant for about 12 years. And by the way, the music there was absolutely awesome. There were some bothersome holes in everything else, and I kept getting in trouble for asking questions like a good Baptist. But the music was way awesome and I was a large part of it.
But, oh, here’s one of the major turning points in my life, and I would like some help understanding it. Because I have been told I was making it up, and that there were some convenient coincidences that I must have taken advantage of.
Oddly enough, when it happened I had no idea what it was; it just seemed a bit bizarre and out of character for the woman responsible. Keep that in mind. I didn’t understand until several years later.
After having been away helping at the church plant in a neighboring town for around six years, we went back to FC. There were a lot of new people, and a new music minister. I auditioned for the choir and on the second week we were there, I went to my first choir practice. The practice room was set up in a horseshoe shape on risers, so I could look across and face the singers on the other arm of the horseshoe.
The choir director asked a couple of us new members to introduce ourselves and tell two things about ourselves. I stood up and said something like I was a college student (at 42) and my favorite piece of music was Handel’s Messiah.
Immediately I received a huge blast of hateful energy right in the gut from a big blonde woman on the opposite side of the horseshoe. If you’re the child of an NPD, you’ll know what I did. I questioned myself about what I must have done wrong. I couldn’t imagine what I had done to insult her; I hadn’t been there long enough!
Okay, we’re going to call this woman by the nickname my husband gave her: Pear Butt. She was the wife of — guess what — a Very Important Evangelist to India. And Haiti. So that made her a VIP.
Pear Butt never spoke one word to me in four years. Not a word. I am not exaggerating. She would not look at me except to glare. This made it difficult, because we were in the choir together, and in the small 8-person singing ensemble. I was also one of the regularly featured soloists, like she was. I sang soprano, and she sang alto, so there wasn’t really any competition there, in my opinion. I also played the keyboards and piano in the orchestra. I rotated all of this activity depending on how the director assigned me. Well, for Pear Butt I was just too damned talented, and too damned confident about it.
Our music department did huge productions with costumes, lights, props, and sometimes, animals. If we were back stage, Pear Butt the prop master would be handing out props, like candles or palm branches, etc. She would give one to everybody except me, then she would go put the props box away. I would have to go and find my own props, which took me out of my place, and caused me to almost miss cues.
If Pear Butt the music librarian was passing out copies of new music at rehearsals, I never got any. Even if I was sitting right there among a group, she would hand things to everyone around me, and never to me. I had to go and find the stacks later and fish out my own set. It often had me out of my place when practice started.
What was I supposed to do about it? Go tattle? Wahhh, Pear Butt won’t talk to me! She won’t give me any music! She wouldn’t hand me my palm branch! Aaaa! LOL
Meanwhile, the music was glorious-er and glorious-er.
After three years or so, she started talking to her best friend about me, within my hearing. It was always to make fun of what I was wearing, or how I looked, or whatever. It finally was done in my face. First time it happened, we were all sitting on the stage about 10 feet apart, and she pointed at my feet, nudging her friend and saying, “Who wears white socks with sandals!? Haw haw haw!” I wasn’t wearing socks. I said, “I’m not wearing socks, that’s my lily-white skin!” The best friend looked embarrassed.
Incidents escalated from there until she had a handful of people giving me sidelong looks.
About then, an unusual couple showed up at FC as visitors. They said they were in town for three months on temporary duty for the Army. They were extremely quiet, reticent people, but had what I can only call holy dignity. Or, as the people at FC put it — “the anointing.” I could see they were watching everything with hawk eyes. Anna and David became very popular as being wise and discerning, and as “watchmen on the wall,” as the pastor put it.
One day Anna came to me quietly and said I should know that there were people at FC making witchcraft prayers against me, and that I should consider leaving there, pretty quick. Surprised, I asked her what that meant, and she said it meant exactly what she said. Well, I wasn’t going to leave that glorious music! This was my place! I ignorantly told Anna that perhaps I would just send those prayers back where they came from. And she just looked at me as if to say, I hope you know what you’re saying.
I never gave it another thought. Any serious person tells you something like that, you might want to listen.
So. In the spring of 1999, after having been the object of Pear Butt’s hatred for four years, it happened.
That Sunday afternoon, the orchestra had been arranged on one half of the stage, and the choir chairs on the other half, all in a semi-circle. The Roland keyboard I was playing was sitting right about where the pulpit would have been. Kind of like the position of first violin in an orchestra.
I had gotten there early so I could choose the keyboard voices for each piece of music we would work on. So I was sitting up there by myself, fiddling with sound effects — wind chimes and trumpets and aahhs — and the entire sanctuary was empty.
I didn’t notice that Pear Butt was there until she was on the stage, setting her things down in a chair right across from me. In addition to her books and stuff, I saw her carefully lay a little dark green velvet drawstring bag on a music stand.
Then she stood up and did something completely out of character: she spoke to me!
She started giving me insincere compliments about my musical ability, and said she wished she could sing like me. Did that ever put me on the run. Head down, still fiddling with the keyboard, I protested and said she shouldn’t wish to sing like me when she had the greatest bluesy alto voice I’d heard in years.
All this while, she was making a slow-motion circuit through the semi-circled chairs, carefully placing music on music stands.
And with her calm, uninflected voice, she said it was quite something that I could not only sing like Sandi Patty (or is it Sandy Patti?), but played the piano so beautifully, and the music minister had called me a prophetic psalmist. (Yeah, I know. What does that mean.)
At that I felt compelled to stop playing the piano and look at her. I was compelled to look into her eyes, which were black and deep with some horrifying howling ancient darkness (her eyes were regularly blue). Somewhere from the depths of those eyes, I could almost hear someone screaming, help me, help me. I could almost smell something like damp rotting earth. Everything else disappeared.
Then she reached out and touched my arm.
She kept talking and slowly walked back to her seat. And then the moment was over, and people started coming in for practice.
Is there anybody here who recognizes what she did? Anyone? I had no idea.
Two weeks later, Pear Butt’s husband, The All-Seeing, All-Knowing Evangelist, walked past me and said, “You know, you’re doing remarkably well for someone who’s carrying such a big rock on your back.” And then he walked on. Say what!
It took me until around 2004 to find an exact written description of what she had done, and until 2012 to find help for it. But meanwhile, I almost died. I was homebound for two years. In bed. My hair fell out. My clothes got too big. Sometimes I crawled from the bed to the bathroom. I couldn’t cook, do housework, shop, nothing. Nobody could figure out what was wrong with me, and they thought I was making it all up.
I lost my church, my friends, my career, almost lost my husband, and probably lost my mind.
I remember only one other event in 1999, and the rest is blank. The year 2000 I remember one thing, and the rest is blank. And I do not remember the first half of 2001.
Whenver I tell this story, which is rarely, people jump on it and say I did a self-fulfilling prophecy kind of thing on myself and made myself sick: Pear Butt did something that looked like she was laying a curse on you and you believed it. NO, she was so subtle I had no idea what she had done! All I knew at the time was that she was acting strange.
Oh, it must be a coincidence that you got so deathly sick right after that event. And much later you discovered something that fit and you just conveniently assigned a connection. You must be crazy in the head.
Lesson: Do not EVER find yourself alone in any room anywhere with someone who hates you. Do not stay there, get out. Don’t go back until other people are there too.
Of course there is a whole bunch more to this story. I ended up going on disability.
I wasn’t delivered in church. A Taoist shaman removed the curse (or the spell, or the energy block, or whatever the hell you want to call it) and the attending entity in 2012. I am going to write that story soon.
As an aside, two chiropractors had been working on my messed up neck for two years (and another had been working on it for ten before that) and they could not understand why it would not behave. I could not keep an adjustment for even one whole day, and was often in torment and pain. The week after the shaman did his thing, I went to the chiropractor, and he said, “Hey, what happened to your neck? It is exactly like it is supposed to be, and I have been fighting to make it do right for two years. How can that be? It’s like it’s spontaneously healed or something.” Hmmm. The next week, the other chiropractor said the same thing. And I finally got it! Doh!
Do you think I am ever going to put myself in another situation like that with someone like Pear Butt? How can I go to a church and worship freely if I can’t see something like that coming? You don’t expect an evangelist’s wife to try killing you while you are both up on the altar, of all places! How can I go to a church that can’t see well enough to prevent that kind of crap?
I don’t think it’s possible. So I don’t go to church. And that’s not the only reason.
Susan – that’s an extraordinary story, thank you for telling it. One of the many things I find remarkable about it is that there is no direct reference to Christian spirituality in the significant events: Kundalini, witchcraft, Taoism (though I assume your husband’s healing was in a “Christian” healing service). It’s almost as if what is going on spiritually is in a parallel universe to “church”.
Thanks for reading. Yes, the healing service and the church itself were as charismatic and pentecostal churchy as you can get.
Those un-Christian terms were arrived at much later when I was trying to figure out what the heck happened. There are no Christian terms for a Kundalini awakening. For a long time I thought of it as being “body-slammed by God.” I never told anybody about it anyway. All people knew was that I was different, way way different.
As for the witchcraft, that is exactly what the seer Anna called it, and I didn’t really understand. Because if you have any familiarity with that kind of church, the word witchcraft can mean other things, like being rebellious, or doing spiritual practices that they didn’t happen to approve of, or not being willing to do spiritual practices they insisted upon.
The Taoist shaman is a qi gong and tai chi teacher I met some years after I had quit attending church. I was his student for over a year before he did the ceremony.
Oddly enough, there is no parallel universe to “church.” It is the same stuff with different names, different terms, different deities. Charismatic praise and worship yields the same ecstatic union with the great I AM as Taoist meditation does. They are both hypnosis. How about that.
Wow Susan. I have experience with similar things (though not as wild as this) and I do still wonder about them, now that I don’t really think there is a god. Interesting that the Taoist shaman lifted whatever it was – of course we were always taught it was only by the blood of Jesus.
Danielle, I am having to sort that out too. We were also taught we had to deal with the problematic supernatural by the blood of Jesus. Yes, that is a safe way to go. IF you know the rest of the procedure!
But it’s not the only way to go. I don’t understand this perfectly, but some things I’ve learned subsequently have changed my perspective. If everything is made of energy, we can move it, change it, etc. If someone places a wad of energy onto someone where it does not belong, it can cause trouble, pain, illness. There’s no such thing as good/positive or bad/negative energy — if it’s in the wrong place it causes blockages and problems. So someone who knows what to do can move that energy out and restore balance. That is the premise behind a lot of Chinese healing. And that is part of what the Taoist shaman did for me. Believe me, I was surprised too.
So why do you think this individual targeted you? I ask this because I was subject to a horrible instance of this as well.
I utterly do not desire to engage in victim blaming. Not at all. Patterns, though, I’d enjoy the wisdom of some patterns, being pointed out.
I find the whole concept of cursing very fascinating. I also believe there is something to it. Whether it’s the power of words and energy or what. But it is interesting to me. I’ve felt them before.
Hello, Ari,
I’m going to be contrary and say, sure, by even mentioning it you’re engaging in victim blaming.
I may not have made it plain. I had only been there for two Sundays, first of all. Not long enough to insult anyone or make anybody mad. And it was the first time the evangelist’s wife had ever laid eyes on me. So I hadn’t done anything to piss her off. I didn’t even know her.
I believe she could see what I was carrying, and I’m guessing that she had already tried for years to attain it. I think she probably tried to get her husband to bestow upon her what he learned over in India. You don’t just hand this stuff to somebody like magic, you have to properly prepare to receive it. In addition to many other preparations, you must align yourself with the Divine. I don’t know WHAT she was lining up with. The darkness hates the light. Any kind of light.
(Added edit: The trouble went from day one. Then she discovered that I could sing and play the piano, and that it had been my ministry for quite a while. Maybe she thought it wasn’t fair, someone having all that. That’s how she treated me.)
When you say “patterns” I am not at all sure what you mean. I had to wade through years of ridiculously misinformed junk about all of this to finally find correct information. And, sorry to say, what the church teaches about all of this, by and large, is plain wrong. Its scope of vision in this area is far too small and short-sighted.
If you will be a bit more specific, I might be able to supply some helpful info.
See you later! I am getting ready to post the next part of this story — somewhere. Either here on this blog or over on the facebook group.
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This reply was modified 1 week, 5 days ago by
P. S. I just discovered that the notifications for replies to these forum entries were going to my e-mail’s spam box. Sorry for the delay in replying back. Fixed it.
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