Raw Spirit

The day of the mysterious visit to the seaside dawned. Having been given various instructions, one of which was total secrecy, and another was to wear white, I was torn between intrigue and cynicism. Just incase I disappeared without a trace, I left a note for David in a sealed envelope under his pillow, telling him with whom I had gone and as much as I knew about where.

Shanti had arranged a lift there, as neither of us had access to a car at that point. I sat quietly in the back, listening absently to the conversation about childhood psychic experiences against what seemed to be every version of "Ave Maria," ever recorded. The meeting would probably take about an hour and a half, I had been told. Shanti asked if I would like her to come with me, or if she could go to the pier with our driver. As I was meeting a total stranger I said I would like her to stay with me. I like to be open to life's experiences, but I also think some common sense helps from time to time.

We were dropped at an address within walking distance of the sea-front. Our driver waved and disappeared, and we went inside to meet the mysterious "vehicle." He was not what I had expected at all, and he leaned against a table-top, looking at me, or the area around me, and saying very little. Shanti giggled. "I think he is mesmerised by your aura!"
"It is very beautiful," he said.
"I shouldn't think so," I told him.
"It is. If not in this life, maybe in a past life, you have done a great deal of spiritual work. There is a great deal of gold there. That's very good."
I didn't really know what to say. I wanted to develop my spirituality, and was looking for teachers, but this was all completely new and unexpected. And also very strange.
He looked at his watch.
"We should be safe now!" he said. We were waiting for his partner's exercise class to have started, so we would be undisturbed. He locked the front door while Shanti washed up our cups carefully, putting everything back in its place so that no-one would know we had even been there. We were then taken to the basement, turning the key behind us in the door at the top of the stairs. To my relief the key remained in the lock so there was an escape route, should one be needed. The small room was completely empty of furniture, and we sat on the floor.
The three of us sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, until a sudden sharp intake of breath by the channel heralded the entry of the incoming spirit. He kept his eyes firmly closed, and started to speak in what I can only describe as "flowery." It was not modern English.
"I bring you greetings, Sister," he began. He gestured to Shanti with his hand, and continued: "My sister here had spoken of you a great deal, but I needed to see you for myself to be sure that it is you. She was, indeed, right."
He spoke of many things, about the condition of the planet, and of man's place upon it. He spoke of the lightworkers who have come to lift human consciousness, and of me as one of them. He spoke of the church as having suppressed many ancient teachings, and of the Second Coming of Christ, not as a man but as an energy, as Pure and Unconditional Love. All of these things were very much in line with what I had read elsewhere and so, when I was asked if I would like to participate in a ceremony of Baptism, I saw no reason to refuse. As a result, I was told, I would be able to perform more powerful healings than before.
"With these hands," he said, "you can do great work. But remember that healing is not curing, it is merely speeding up what is meant to be. It may be that someone is meant to die, so to give healing is to let that happen with greater peace."
That comment, at that point, made me quite fearful of healing at all. It felt like a responsibility I didn't want.
Our time was soon over. I was reminded not to speak to anyone about what had happened, not even our host. He ran a business and felt that his credibility might be damaged if it came out that he was involved in the psychic world. For some reason, even his partner was not to know. I was led to believe that she disapproved of such things; if she answered the telephone when Shanti called, Shanti would panic and put the phone down, or speak in a bizarre foreign accent.
The journey home passed like the journey there, with Ave Maria on repeat while I sat in quiet contemplation. It was quite late, so I was taken home.
Shanti gave me one of her enormous hugs, and whispered to me that she would call me in the morning.

Since these events a lot has been written about matters which were, at the time, unknown concepts to me. About five years ago I was drawn to the work of Doreen Virtue, who runs "Angel Therapy Workshops," and has written about incarnate fairies, angels, and the like. When the events I describe occurred my spiritual knowledge came from The Bible, Shakti Gawain, James Redfield and Richard Bach. I had watched David Icke's revelations on the television; some of what he said felt very right, and I was dismayed to see him heckled and ridiculed when all he really seemed to be saying was that the world would be a better place if everyone took care of each other. I was given a copy of his first book, minus its cover, which had been used in some publicity photos, so it seemed that I was somehow supposed to read it and, most of it, I resonated with. I tried, at all times, to balance out trust and questioning.

Shanti had been very insistent.
"I must talk with you as soon as possible. What I say is private, so you must be alone, but I have been asked to come to you as a messenger."
As you might expect, I was caught between curiosity and scepticism, while wanting to keep an open mind. When she arrived David took his guitar through to the kitchen and left us to our discussions. She sat very close to me, so that she could speak quietly.

"You have been recognised as a Pure Spirit, as a Lightworker, and I have been asked to invite you to meet someone. He is a very gifted medium who lives on the coast. He channels an Ascended Master who would like to talk to you. He is the vehicle for him; a bit like when you want to travel you get into a car, he is the vehicle for this Spirit."
I felt myself go cold, not unpleasantly so, but this was not really something I had come across before. I must have looked rather blank, unsure of how to react. She continued:
"This is the time of the second coming, not of Jesus, but of Christ. Christ is an Energy, that of Pure, Unconditional Love which comes from God. The world needs to be changed, as man is doing so much damage that humanity's consciousness needs to be lifted. The Master would like to talk to you and, if you wish, baptise you in Light."
I sat quietly, still unsure of how to react.
"But," she continued,"If you come and meet him, you must tell no-one where you are going, and with whom you are meeting AND....you must also know that this medium leaves his body completely. After the sitting, he has no recollection at all of what happens."
"How does that work?"
"He goes into meditation and leaves his body.everything that happens, that you talk about, during the sitting, will be completely secret."

This was intriguing. Should I believe what was happening? Was it happening? Many, many thoughts tried to stampede through my brain at the same time. Things I had read, or dreamed....What if it was true, and truly important, and I allowed my sceptical nature to get in the way?
I asked for some time to think.

"'Phone me tomorrow," said Shanti,"as I will need to arrange travel."

When she had gone, I sat with my thoughts, aching to speak to someone, to David, to anybody. I read again anything that seemed relevant. I meditated, and decided that this was something I had to take a chance on

A wander around Glastonbury, the perusal of bookshops' Mind/Body/Spirit sections and meeings with many varied and beautiful people had introduced me to the concept of channelling. The Devents I am now describing took place over ten years ago; I was 30 years old, I had gone from being sceptical about religious and psychic experience to an awareness of angelic realms that made me open to possibilities beyond the factual, provable and scientific.

Following my visit to London, I felt that the Tantra weekends were not for me; neither did I feel drawn to Shanti's sessions, though I knew that the person who had hosted the monthly group for her also ran a circle of her own. David wanted to come along with me, so I contacted Shanti to find out how to contact Tina.
Shanti said she was glad to hear from me, and asked for my new number, mentioning, also, that she was now running a group somewhere else which incorporated meditation, music and movement. That sounded fine, so we decided to go to both groups. It felt important to investigate several options when it came to spiritual growth. On a quest for truth we might encounter charlatans, we knew but, just as the saying says about it being better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, there was a burning quest for knowledge that needed to be satisfied.

Within the hour Shanti telephoned to say that she had been in meditation and had a strong impression that she must come and see me as soon as possible. She would say nothing more on the 'phone, and made an appointment for a few days time.

I was finding my own meditations easier, and was very happy that David wanted to participate. We sat together, a wonderful experience to share with a partner.

The only negative part of life was that Rob came back, stating that he could not stay with either of his parents, so he would either need to move back in with me, or I would need to find somewhere else. He did not have a full-time job, and could freelance from home but earned very little money. I was doing a few days each week in the shop, but was paying a sitter so it made sense for me to move in with David until I found something suitable for the children and I. Unceremoniously stripped of my child-benefit book I left the house and walked away, one of the most difficult walks I had ever taken. The heaviness in my chest as I left my babies was enormous; when I arrived at David's I let the tears that I had refused to shed in public truly flow. He ran me a bath and cooked me a meal while I sobbed into the water and worked out how many week's wages I would need for a deposit on a small house for us all.

I had not really counted on the level of Rob's anger. He covered all bases, visiting my relations and friends very quickly, having also claimed custody of the car, as well as my employer, telling everyone that David was the reason for our breakup, and suing me for adultery, rather than going for mutual consent, as we had orinally discussed. The result of this was, initially, that I was asked to leave my job. My tendency to keep things private meant that nobody got to hear my side of the story. My lack of a job meant I had no way of saving for somewhere to live. I felt he was trying to force me back home, not because he loved me, but because he felt humiliated and hurt that I had found someone else so quickly.

David, ever the knight in armour, promised always to take care of me. Although we had no space to have the children to stay, we had them with us at weekends and two days a week, walking them the half hour across town. I had tried to spend time with them at the house, but one afternoon Rob's anger erupted and he had me up against a kitchen cupboard by my throat, in front of the tiniest children. I never felt he would harm the children, but had no desire for them to have to witness this kind of behaviour, not to mention the terror of being in that position.

David borrowed £250 to buy a car, making it easier for me to see the children, and we made the best of it. The children were, of course, confused. We did everything we could to make things nice for them, and were fortunate to have friends and neighbours who helped out. We had some wonderful evening bonfires, with baked potatoes and music. My friends at church were also very supportive. One elderly friend looked across the room to where David was playing with the children. She patted my arm. "That man is a Saint!" she announced.

So,off I went to London.

Although I had lived there for five years when I was still "career girl," my trips had become extremely rare, so it felt like a huge adventure to be there once again, looking for the right house in a wide North London, tree-lined street. The gated path was tiled and the huge front door was glossy and black with a brass handle; I rang the bell and the Tantric master appeared at once.

He showed me into his office and went off to make tea while I settled down from the journey. The room had two huge windows with beautiful saris for curtains, various statues of Indian deities and an entire wall of book-shelves, packed full of esoteric books. There were two large arm chairs, one of which I sat at, and his own large leather chair in front of a huge wooden desk.

While I drank my tea we chatted. He asked me how I knew Shanti, what was my experience of meditation, and I explained that I was a relative, but enthusiastic, newcomer.
"Why have you asked me to help with your workshops," I asked.
"I see something in you," he told me. Of course, we all like to be seen as special, and flattery is a powerful tool.
"What's that?"
"I see your hidden, inner Goddess." In the intervening years I have come to realise that we all have one of those, the diamond of a spirit that seeks to guide us and protect us. Back then, especially with my marriage as it was, it felt good to be seen as something other than a drudge who washed floors and peeled potatoes.

I asked him about his background, and he told me he had studied in India, as well as Zen masters in this country. He and his wife had stopped travelling when their daughter was born, and worked as holistic therapists, as well as on the television. A little alarm bleeped in the corner.
"Time to check on the kittens!" he announced. "My daughter's cat has had babies, and she leaves me strict instructions about looking after them while she's at school." I accompanied him to the bathroom, where the cat basket was tucked beside the boiler for warmth, with proud Mum and several babies looking up at us, sleepily.
And then, we went back to the office, while he explained that I would be one of four assistants. "All I want you to do," he told me, "is hold the energy. I'd like each of you to wear white, and sit in meditation in each corner of the room." It all sounded simple enough, and the opprtunity sounded too good to miss. In the evening, we'll have some activities planned, your food will be provided. All very simple really. Everyone is going to sleep in tipis in the grounds."

He then told me he would like to give me a chakra clearing. I had experienced various types of healing, and was looking into doing a course with the NFSH, so saw nothing unusual in his request. He laid out a yoga mat and asked me to stand beside it while he placed his hands on the top of my head. The pungent aroma of incence filled the room, and the saris fluttered at the windows, filtering the bright sunlight. He ran his hands down my back, stopping at each chakra point. As I normally did during healing, I closed my eyes and experienced a sense of peace that I used to describe as "other-wordly." However, I was suddenly shocked and alarmed to realise that he had lifted my skirt and was "clearing" with his hands inside my underwear. The healing process had numbed my physical reactions and my normal reasoning; I was easily pushed to my knees, where he continued. I am sure he gave me a very thorough and proficient clearing, leaving me feeling both satisfied and invaded. Questions ran through my head: "Is this normal? Should I have expected this? Should I be scared?" I was in shock. I stumbled to my feet and tried to return to a compsed state while he cleaned his hands and handed me a glass of water.

"I have to catch my train," I told him, suddenly wanting to be away as soon as possible. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sum of money, which he held out to me.
"I said I'd pay your train fare," he told me. I just looked at it, my mind racing. I could not accept money from him, not after what had happened. It felt very wrong, and I was unsure what I wanted to do, other than get out of his flat as quickly as I could.
"No." I shook my head. "I don't want any money."

On the journey home my head was spinning. In all that I do, I come from a position of integrity, and I expect that from people around me. Some of you may feel I was gullible but I was, on some level, being taught a lesson about discernment. It used to hurt when people did not extend me the same courtesy but now, years after that particular event, I just endeavour to always do my best. Needless to say, I chose not to attend the weekend workshop in Devon.

Shanti came bounding into the shop, full of excitement. "I've connected with a wonderful Tantric master," she told me, and he's asked me to organise a workshop for him. Can you put some flyers up for me, and will you come? It's £30 for the day. It's all about ENERGY." She placed great emphasis on the word. Coming from the perspective of someone learning to meditate, I assumed this would be Channelling Light in the lotus position for the day, with a break for lunch, and a couple of herbal teas. Easy.

There were a couple of yoga sessions during the day, and some chanting and dancing, and an hour-long dynamic meditation which was completely exhausting, but also very clearing and very satisfying, based upon the work of OSHO. The tantric master turned out to be a small man who brought with him an entourage, some of whom were filming some of the day for satellite TV where, so he said, he had a slot on a breakfast programme. Apart from co-ordinating everyone, his own contribution to the day was in the form of some exercise to encourage the movement of Chi in the body.

One of these was to stand and rock the pelvis, to activate the base chakra, and then to pull the energy up through the seven chakras. We all laughed when he told us if we practiced it every morning we'd be able to have an orgasm while we were cleaning our teeth!

At the end of the day, though tired, I was also really buzzy. I had said I would help Shanti clear up and take some of her things home in my car, as she could not drive. The workshop had been successful, and The Master mentioned to me that he would be looking for helpers at a weekend workshop in Devon, and asked if I would be interested. "I'd pay you," he said, as he handed Shanti her share of the profits for the day. Fifty people had payed £30 to be there; quite lucrative, it could be said.

"Think about it!" he said, "And phone me." They were all driving back to London, so we said our goodbyes, including his wife and daughter, and Shanti started to load up the car.
"How did you get it all here," I asked.
"I walked.But it took a few trips."
She lived, in fact, a two minute drive from the hall, but it was up a slope. Also, her flat was on the second floor, so I was able to help carry things up the fire escape. While I was there, she showed me her garden, a beautiful patch within sight of the river, overlooking orchards and hop-fields. Off to one side was a fairly small dead tree.
"I used to sit under there and meditate, until it died. It died when my partner left me, because my heart was broken."
"Oh." I wasn't really sure what to make of this, but she stated it as fact so, to her, it was true. I wondered why she chose to keep it as a reminder of her broken heart, grey and lifeless. There was a very childlike part of her that seemed at odds with the Guru that came out at the meditation groups. I was interested to hear her thoughts, but I also felt a little protective of her.
We sat on a log in the late afternoon sunshine, surrounded by tinkling wind-chimes.
"Last week," she told me, "I went to a feast at my friend's Ashram. His own Guru was over from India, and the food was wonderful. There were flowers everywhere, and I did some singing." Singing was what she loved to do. "I went so high in my spirit that I channelled an ArchAngel and then fainted!" She laughed, and there was a sudden gust of wind, causing the wind-chimes to ring out in earnest."Ooh, Hello Tom." She spotted a neighbour who was shuffling by with a newspaper and a folding chair.
"It's starting to get a bit chilly now," he called, reminding me that I needed to be on my way to collect the children from my mother's house.

On the drive, I wondered what the ArchAngel had wanted to say, and what everyone's reaction had been. I also thought about the weekend workshop in Devon. A weekend away would be good, my expenses would be paid and it might be fun, if it was like the day I'd had. I decided to phone and find out more.

"It's in about 6 weeks," he told me. "You'll need a little bit of training, though, to bring you up to speed. I'm really busy; might you be able to come up to us? We live near the tube, so if you come into Victoria I'll give you directions. Can you cover the train fare and I'll pay you back?"
I agreed, and we arranged it for the following Monday.

Feeling better, with her telephone number in my pocket, I went home, back to the hurly burly of a house with four young children in it, and not sure what the evening would be like. During that time I looked forward to the evenings when Rob was at band practice so that I could meditate. On the other nights, I put music on and just danced as if my life depended on it, something I hadn't done since childhood. The dancing lifted me into a kind of euphoria; I felt like I was really free, flying like an eagle through wild and fabulous skies.

I continued at the monthly meditation group, feeling that it gave me a focus, a rhythm to life. In a circle,the energetic experience felt stronger. I learned to "feel spirit" as a tingling in my limbs or as a breath on my face. At each meeting Shanti, as she called herself, would channel words from spirit. I had not experienced it first hand before but, on trips to Glastonbury I had seen ad's for Angel Channellings, and I had read books on the subject. While new and intriguing, it was not a completely alien concept. I also 'phoned her a few times, and she would meditate on my questions and phone me back. During one of these calls I mentioned that Rob had now had a vasectomy, removing, at least, the threat of another pregnancy. She seemed a little flustered at the news, and said she needed to meditate some more and would call me back. Later in the day, as promised, she contacted me, saying that it had been revealed to her that I would find no "nourishment" if I was unable to "receive living seed." She went on to explain that she was also a teacher of tantra as a path to Enlightenment. I didn't know very much about tantra; I was aware of the practice of tantric yoga, and it's popularity in the popular press, thanks mainly to Sting. "He can no longer fulfil your spirit. Someone will need to be found who can lift you." I wasn't really sure that I wanted to work in tantra, but I continued to go to the group, as I was making friends there and enjoying the process of learning to meditate and contact spirit, listening with interest to the channellings.

Normally the words were for each individual within the group, offering strength and comfort in their home lives. Mine continued to deteriorate. When I went out I often came home to find Rob the worse for drink, his lips stained red with wine or, as on one Sunday afternoon when I had been at a craft fair with a friend, turquoize from half a bottle of blue curacao. A couple of times he disappeared for days at a time, which the children found confusing but life was, at least, calm. Eventually, for a rest, I went to stay with my parents, leaving him to take care of the little ones. However, seeing a failing marriage as a fault,I had never talked about how life was going. I was loyal to him and they were unaware of his binges and disappearances so, as a consequences they were as bewildered as the children were and I felt obliged to return home. I always appeared to be coping, appeared to be strong and, although I was at my wits end, I sensed they just wanted me to go home and work at it.

While I was away he found Shanti's card and, rightly assuming that she was offering support, he telephoned. He was disgruntled that all she would tell him was that I was a free spirit who needed some space, and that she was unableto counsel us both. After some discussion, we decided to separate. He would ask his father if he could stay with him, leaving me at home with the children. The agreement, once reached, seemed to take some time to implement but, for me, I could see some light at the end of the tunnel until Shanti read out words that she had been given during the day of that month's meeting, saying that the group would now close, and she would be holding Tantra workshops instead. I still wasn't sure this was what I wanted and, having gone from having an unsuitable partner to no partner at all, wasn't sure that I would qualify, anyway.

Several group members felt let down, having grown to depend on it to punctuate some very sad lives with moments of peace and serenity. A heated debate ensued, causing the sensitive Shanti to be overcome by what I can only describe as "the Vapours!" I had started to take a friend to the group and, on the drive home he vented pure anger, feeling completely adrift from something that he had felt secure with. From that day to this, to my knowledge, he has rejected all things spiritual. I was surprised, I must admit, that this woman who had seemed happy with her "Guru" status had swept a roomful of people aside, suddenly and without warning, and then seemed shocked at their adverse reactions.

Rob still made no attempt to leave. Communication between us was curt, and we seemed to alternate our evenings out. He went away on a work conference and I almost prayed that he would meet someone who he could fall for, someone who could make him happy. I began a part-time job in the town's hippie shop, where I was in my element, selling insence and crystals to the local Bohemians. One of these was David, from the band. We arranged to meet for a drink. Throughout the day I had butterflies in my stomach, someting I had not felt since I was a teenager, and I realised that this meant more than my normal platonic friendships. Howver, I needed Rob to babysit. This particular night he was 2 hours late, without a call, without an apology. I expected to arrive at the pub to find David gone already but, as I drove around the corner I could see him, sitting on a picnic table outside, waiting patiently. He smiled and waved, and ran down to the car. I smiled until my cheeks ached.
"I thought you'd have gone!" I told him.
"I knew you were coming," he replied.

As the night went on I realised that, although Rob had said he would be leaving, he had not and I was, technically on the brink of an affair, something I just couldn't do. Conditioned with the happy-ever-after view of life, something as sordid as that was not for me. David was keen to see me at the weekend but I needed one door to close properly before I could open another, so I told him I would phone him. We did, however, share a kiss and I knew that this man and I had a deep and profound connection. On my return, Rob was awake, his eyes colder than ever. I asked him if he had asked his Dad if he could stay, but he still had not. I explained that I could no longer carry on like this, that I felt we had to move on once and for all.
I don't know if he had just kept his head in the sand, hoping that it would all blow over, but he was angrier than I had ever seen him. In the black of the night he disappeared, off on another of his trips away. Peace surrounded the house once more. At least, for a little while.

Looking back, I can see that I was happy enough. I had reached the age of 30, I had enjoyed a career which had allowed me to make a good living, cash in on the eighties property boom and go on to have four wonderful children.

But then I started to feel drawn to a deeper meaning. I joined a local church and, one Sunday in early De cember, as I listened to a reading about Gabriel's visit to Mary, I found myself overwhelmed with tears. I was hearing the same words I had heard, in some form, for years yet now, I was touched by them very deeply.
At the same time, I was drawing pictures of Angels, writing poems about Angels, even making little patchwork Angels that I sold in a local craft shop. The church hosted a reular soup-kitchen for the town's homeless, and I told my husband that I wanted to volunteer for one evening each week. He was, however, very much against the idea, telling me that if I put my name down he would make sure he was home late so that I was unable to go. We had no extra money for baby-sitters and, for the sake of harmony, I agreed to give up the idea.

I was able to join a local meditation group which took place once a month. I was starting to have psychic experiences, I was teaching myself Astrology, and found myself reading what were then described as "New Age" books. It felt that I was changing inside myself in a way I could not explain. My husband, however, was also changing. We were growing apart; he was becoming depressed and ill, with one chest infection after another. He did not enjoy his work, which bound him to a desk, though his true desire was to be a musician.

"Go to college," I told him. "I'll go out to work." I wasn't sure what I would do, but I had been successful before, and there was no reason not to do it again.
Around that time he was invited to form a band and so, for a while, his black moods lifted. They were all talented musicians and, whatever our marital difficulties were, when I watched them play I felt a tingling in my whole body. They were born to play, their music lifted their own spirits as well as those of the audience.

As part of the normal band-forming process, one Sunday morning we found ourselves out in the Kent countryside, taking "Band photos." I had my SLR, the guitarist's girl-friend had hers, and we snapped away, trying to catch the essence of the group. It was that day that I met, for the first time, David, who sang with them. We walked together, chatting easily as if we had known each other for many years. He came back to eat with us in the evening, but I suddenly felt uncomfortable. He seemed to have noticed, or maybe he had heard, that things were not quite as they should be in my home, and some of his comments made me realise how vulnerable my marriage was. I had dreamed of growing old in that marriage, and wanted to do what I could to save it. I asked Rob to go to the doctor, imagining that he would be referred for counselling, and stunned to see him come home with a bottle of anti-depressants. With them, life became bearable, however, so that when he announced his intention to stop taking them, I was filled with dread. Rows resumed. Realising that I needed to work on myself, I resolved to meditate every day, feeling that deepening my inner sense of peace would somehow transform life for the better.

With a houseful of children, one of whom still slept in a cot in our bedroom, my meditation needed to be done in the dining room of our little terraced house. One evening, I sat in the corner, trying to begin my meditation ritual, when Rob opened the living room door and walked through to the kitchen, doors creaking, TV blaring in the front room where he was watching a football match, and back, across the floorboards, leaving the door open and shattering my peace completely. I opened my eyes and walked through to the front room.

"I was trying to meditate!"
"And I am trying to watch the football." He didn't move his eyes from the screen.

Sighing, I returned to my seat. In the next ad' break he came through again. There was a row brewing. At the end of it I plonked myself on the sofa, giving up on all thoughts of meditation for the day, when Rob came charging through, shouting very loud and, to my profound shock, he kicked me. I had never experienced violence before, but this heralded the beginning of a phase, often accompanied by drinking. One night, under the influence of alcohol, every time I fell asleep, he hit me in the back to wake me. Looking on the bright side, I lay in bed and giggled when he kept going to the bathroom to vomit; his shouting had woken our youngest daughter who, bizarrely, upon hearing him being sick, copied the sound in the darkness. Maybe I was in shock.

The next day I went to town and bumped into David. We chatted for a few moments and I felt intense relief. There was something about him that made me feel very safe.

From there. I went window shopping,anything to take my mind off the situation at home, and bumped into the woman who ran the meditation group.
"You look terrible; what's happened?" I quickly explained that Rob and I had been rowing. "Your aura is in tatters," she told me. "Don't worry, Angels are with you." In that moment, I knew that they were. The moment I acknowledged them I felt protected, similar to the sense of protection I felt with David, but deeper and more profound.