My Memoir: Introduction

I have unusual transcendental experiences.

Notice, I did not call them unique, because they are not. Much has been written by and about Christian saints and exemplary, holy people of other belief systems who have had mystical experiences, and continue to do so.

However, when I first began to have rather primitive, or at least simple, versions of them as a teenager, I could not interpret them as anything other than extremely loving and coming from what I then called a “religious” source. I had perhaps several of them.

After considerable absence, they returned in my sixties. These are far more complex phenomena, with different perspectives, implications, and import. I now refer to these as being “spiritual”, not religious, because of my change in perspective on religions.

Of course, I was curious to see if I could find actual books written by others who were having similar anomalous experiences, hoping that I could interpret mine better.

Therein was the problem—I could not find any books written in the last century or so, that were written by non-religious laypersons, as I now consider myself to be. Perhaps I have missed some, but the literature is hardly replete with books on lay mysticism, at least in the way that I experience it.

Hence, this memoir. I hope that it will be found by those who might be searching for a kindred spirit, as I once did—or by those who are just curious.

Similarly, I hope this serialized online version will make it accessible to as many readers as possible; you can expect new entries about twice per month. In the meantime, you may enjoy my other writing on this website.

Blessings to all—

Ann

INTRODUCTION

Nearly a decade ago, as I was leaving an appointment with my therapist, I had an extraordinary and frightening experience. While I passed through the clinic’s reception area, I had an overwhelming sense that I needed to move quickly to the front door. I could not understand why. I rushed through as best I could, did not say good-bye to my friends at the front desk, and reached the glass door.

By the time I got outside, my body did not want to cooperate in walking down the steps. Yet, with sheer force of will and a well-placed handrail, I made it to the bottom. Still pushing myself until I reached my car about four spaces away, I could barely open the key lock to the car door. I was shaking. Finally, I made it inside, and collapsed on the driver’s seat.

My arms and hands were limp. They felt so heavy that I could barely move them. But, sensing that I needed to be more comfortable behind the wheel, I released the seat mechanism so that the back was in a reclining position. My eyes closed. And then, it started…

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