Among Angels..

According to a recent (ish) poll, one in ten people in the UK believe in angels.

Christmas is hurtling towards us an alarming rate so it seems apt to do one or two posts about angels.

There is a plethora of information about angels but perhaps one of the best advocates for the winged-ones is Lorna Byrne.

I’ve always been in two minds whether or not Lorna is certifiably insane? I mean, this lady has conversations with angels on a daily basis and has been seeing them since she was a baby. Yet she appears to be as sane as you or I.

Well you, anyway..

Lorna sees angels as physically as she sees everybody else and is of the opinion that everybody has at least one angel with them at all times. At this point, people usually ask, ‘Well, if that’s true, how come people get hurt or get ill? Why don’t their angels save them?’

Other people ask where their ‘car parking’ angel is when they need them?

“I drove round the Tesco car-park THREE SODDING TIMES. Where was my effing angel?!!”

Having a doze?

Saving a beached whale?

How the heck am I supposed to know?!

What I do know is that for every atrocity that happens – there some people who ‘miraculously survive’ and those who die horribly.

This is what I struggle with when it comes to the concept of angels.

One answer is that angels do appear to intervene where there is danger but not in every instance. It doesn’t seem fair that some people are saved and not others. Are some lives worth more than others? I don’t think so, yet this is how life is. The problem is that we don’t understand how all this works. People just assume that angels don’t exist for the same reason that some people reject the idea of God – because people suffer.

I have had a few ‘near misses’ in my time and when I say near miss, I mean that I have NO idea how I came out of these things alive..

The first incident was when an old (and extremely heavy) door fell on top of me when I was about four years old. I was rooting about in that forbidden area (the garage) and it fell on top of me. My parents couldn’t understand why I wasn’t dead or at the very least, a cabbage. Yet all I suffered was a small scratch on my nose.

Another incident was when I was driving home from work one day. I was doing 50 mph and an articulated lorry pulled out on me. I braked but my car kept on going, skidding onto the wrong side of the road.

Miraculously, there were no cars coming in the other direction.

It could have been a LOT worse.

It should have been a lot worse because it happened during the rush hour on a road that junctioned onto the M6 motorway – one of the busiest in the country.

All this happened in a matter of seconds yet I remember three things.

One – Time slowed right down.

Two – My life flashed before me.

Third – I felt protected.

Those were occasions where, by rights, I should have been seriously injured at least. Maybe it was just my good luck. Or maybe someone was looking out for me?

On another occasion, my eldest son (then about 16) came out of the local shop and stepped off the pavement into the road. He later told me, “I felt someone pull me roughly back onto the pavement. I looked around but there was NOBODY there. I thought it was one of my mates playing silly buggers. At that moment, a car came speeding round the corner. Had I have carried on across the road, the car would have hit me for sure”.

I also had a bizarre experience one day when my car broke down. These were the days before mobile phones and I had my elderly mother in law with me and a boot full of shopping. The place where I broke down was quite a distance from the nearest working phone-box and there were no houses either. My dilemma was that I had to leave my MIL in the car on her own while I went to get help as there was no way she could come with me. Just as I was starting to panic, a car drew in behind us and a man came to the window asking if I needed help. I could have kissed him! I explained the situation and he offered us (and the shopping) a lift back to MILs house.

The man looked to be in his 60s and had the kindest (and bluest) eyes I’d ever seen and I instinctively felt safe, as if he was someone I’d known all my life. Normally, I am suspicious of people.

He drove us to MILS house and helped me to carry the shopping in..

Nothing strange thus far but here’s where it gets funky…

We’d taken the last bags inside the house and I turned to thank him and offer him a cuppa but he’d gone.

I looked outside and his car was gone too. I know this sounds unbelievable but there simply wasn’t the time for the bloke to put the shopping bag down, walk out of the door, get into his car, drive off, without me seeing him.

I know what you’re thinking but no, he hadn’t nicked anything and SHAME ON YOU FOR THINKING IT!

What happened was impossible.

Some time later, I read an article about angels which led me to do some extensive research of my own and a few details consistently cropped up in people’s accounts:

These ‘angels’ appeared out of nowhere when people desperately needed help.

  • They generally had kind (and very blue) eyes.
  • There was a sense of peaceful and calming energy.
  • They buggered off quicker than is humanly possible.

So angels drive do they?

Apparently so.

My question is how do they get around the tax and insurance?

Why do they appear as humans then? Why not just appear in all their winged glory?

Well, I for one would have shit myself had a seven foot bird person revealed themselves to me in front of my Peugeot. As for my mother-in-law, she’d already had one heart attack. The shock would have finished her off, defo.

Even if you think my story is about as believable as Wayne Rooney’s weave, there is no denying the mountain of evidence to support the existence of these beings known as angels.

Personally, I don’t believe it’s an angel’s job to save every person on the planet. Granted, it would be great if only the ancient among us died after long and gloriously happy lives but the reality is that the planet would be vastly overcrowded and we would become extinct.

Maybe angels do warn us but it’s our free will to heed or ignore the whispers?

Maybe it’s gut instinct not to travel on a certain road, or catch a certain train?

Or maybe it’s a whisper from an angel?

I see an angel’s job as one who comforts and guides. Who’s to say that when bad things happen they are not comforting someone to the very end? So maybe they can’t always save lives but comforting someone in their final minutes? That’s a very special thing, no?

One of the problems is that we don’t understand life. We don’t understand why good people die young and utter twats live to ripe old ages. If you believe that everything is chance and life is meaningless, then you have no problem. For those of us who don’t fit with that concept – there is confusion.

That said, I think that when we die, we will understand pain and suffering.

We will understand the whole damn thing.

It’s just that it’s incomprehensible to us in human form.

The other problem is some of us struggle with things that can’t be scientifically measured. There is no proof, therefore it doesn’t exist. Experience convinces you. While there is no definitive proof that angels exist, there is an abundance of evidence and in any court of law evidence stands for something.

I like Lorna’s Byrne’s theory that our guardian angels are always with us. That said, I hope mine averts their eyes when I’m perched on the loo or in the shower because, well – dignity.

Do you believe in angels?

Some things are true whether you believe in them or not ~ Nicholas Cage

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What Happens When We Die? Part One: ADCs

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I love talking about death, me. Strange considering I have health anxiety, but it’s not death itself that gets me hyperventilating – it’s the dying bit.

What interests me is what happens to us after we die.

I believe that consciousness survives death because I’ve experienced paranormal phenomena – my earliest recollection being when I was 9 years old when on two separate occasions I saw a child in my house who didn’t belong there. In other words, I saw a ghost.

However, the experience that turned me into a ‘bleever’ happened early one December morning..

Something woke me up around 3am. It was a familiar sound but it took a few seconds to comprehend what it was because – you know – brain fog? Once my brain engaged, I realised it was my Bontempi organ..

The organ was operated by batteries and made a whirring sound when you switched it on. Somehow, it had switched itself on despite being visibly off. I wasn’t scared but I was awake. The only way to shut the damn thing up was to take the batteries out. So I did. I also made a mental note to get my dad to look it the next day. Problemo sorted, I got back into bed.

Close Encounters of the Bontempi Kind.

That’s when I saw my rocking chair moving gently back and forth.

I assumed it was movement generated from me walking about. Logical, right? Only the bugger kept on rocking long after I’d stopped moving. It was as if somebody was sitting on it? Except that NOBODY WAS THERE. There were no open windows, no drafts, no heating and NO LOGICAL REASON FOR THIS TO BE HAPPENING! By now you’d imagine that a young girl would be crapping her pajamas? On the contrary, I was exceptionally calm.

At this point that I became aware of a smell of perfume. I knew the smell, but from where?

What happened next is why I believe so strongly that our consciousnesses never die..

Brace yourself, folks, cos it’s about to get wanky..

I was filled with THE MOST INTENSE feeling of love.

Think of how it felt to hold your babies for the first time and then multiply it by about a GAZILLION.

Then I remembered who’s perfume it was..

It was my grandmother’s.

The same grandmother who’d once owned the chair that was rocking by itself. The perfume was hers. I don’t remember it on her, as I was only 6 when she died, but I was given her jewellery which was infused with her perfume – the same perfume that was filling my room.

It was unmistakable.

My Bontempi returned to perfect working order. Dad could find no logical reason for it’s ‘malfunction’. My theory? Grandma had to wake me up somehow, right? Just enough noise to wake me but not enough to scare the shit out of me.

What I experienced was an ADC (after-death communication)

What the actual chuff is an ADC?

Bill and Judy Guggenheim defined the ADC as a “spiritual experience that occurs when someone is contacted directly and spontaneously by a family member or friend who has died.”

There are twelve major forms of after-death communication.

Sentient ADC – Where you sense the presence of the deceased.

Auditory ADC – Where you can hear the voice of the deceased.

Tactile ADC – Where you feel the physical touch of the deceased.

Olfactory ADC – Where you smell a fragrance associated with the deceased.

Partial Appearance ACD – When you see parts of the deceased but they don’t appear to be ‘solid’.

Visual ADC – A full appearance from the deceased where they look ‘solid’ and ‘real’.

Twilight ACD – These occur as you fall asleep or wake up.

Sleep State ACD – When a dream is more than a dream.

Out of Body ACD – Contact with the deceased during an OBE.

Telephone ACD – Phone-calls from heaven – literally.

ACDs of Physical Phenomena – Flickering lights ‘n’ shizz.

Symbolic ACDs – Butterflies, rainbows, robins or inanimate objects as a sign from the deceased.

My experience was sentient, olfactory and physical. To be honest, I’m glad Grandma didn’t choose to ‘appear’ in part OR full because I’m fairly confident I would have shit the bed.

My ADC happened in the early hours, as many do, simply because it’s when we are most relaxed and there are fewer distractions. They also happen during stressful times in our lives or around special days, like birthdays or anniversaries. My ADC happened on December the 18th 1981. My Grandma died on December the 18th 1976. Coincidence?

The experience is very special to me. The reason I don’t fear death is because five years after she died, my grandmother was still around. I couldn’t see her but I was aware of her.

Sceptics have belittled my experience as a ‘dream’ or ‘psychotic episode’. Thing is, you don’t remember dreams decades later and I find the ‘psychotic episode’ theory to be insulting – not to mention lazy.

Psychosis is an abnormal condition of the mind that involves a loss of contact with reality.

I might be a fully-fledged psycho now but I wasn’t then. I was 11 years old. My head was full of Duran Duran and Smash Hits. If I was going to have a hallucination – it would have been Nick Rhodes, mate, not the grandmother who I could barely remember.

Believing in the afterlife doesn’t make people stupid or gullible. Some hard-line sceptics  openly ridicule people’s experiences and ignore the fact that many believers are credible people. Scientific people with letters after their names and shit.

In a review of research on ADCs, Streit-Horn (2011) found that they occur with people of all nationalities, intelligence levels, religions, ethnicity etc. People who report these experiences are typically NOT mentally ill.

None of this matters to the closed-minds of the sceptics, mostly because they have reputations to live up to. They demand scientific proof, or it didn’t happen.

I can’t prove any of what happened to me and those who could verify certain things are no longer here. Does this mean it didn’t happen?

“Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?” Albus Dumbledore

A big thank you to Lori from Days Gone By Etsy shop who kindly allowed me to use and adapt her Bontempi photograph.