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Awakenings |
Coming from a strong Christian family, I was aware of spiritual matters at an early age, that there was a force somewhere outside my physical world. Of course being a Christian home, church was attended regularly and the idea of a space for God ingrained in me. It has taken me a long time to reconcile my differences with the church, but it has always been a problem with the belief system not God. Sundays were always set aside for services and Sunday school. Only my best clothes were worn on Sundays and I longed to go and play out in the street with the other kids. This detachment from my peers started my first rebellion.
Continuing with my studies of the bible, which I have always found fascinating, I believed I had to break out of the rigors of such a strict routine. I did not want to hurt my parents or stir up the wroth of god just in case this fire and brimstone stuff did turn out to be true. So, I protected myself by doing two things 1) continuing as normal debating with my dad on the scriptures and 2) having imaginary friends around for dinner well biscuits under the bed covers. These friends took the shape of angels with me pretending to have wings, or at least trying to grow them, something I am still trying to physically do. Angels seemed the only beings I perceived who were intermediates for god but independent with a life of their own; they also had a certain magical quality. Daring not to upset people with my notions of imagined angels I kept it all to myself. Little did I know that these friends were my first encounters with any kind of spiritual guide. It did seem rather odd for a 6 year old now but at the time they provided me with a great comfort knowing that there was more than Christianity out there.
We moved to Worcestershire when I was seven, found several new churches to go to and I continued my life of angels, church and trying to act as normal as possible to other kids so as not to be left out. I started to talk to imagery white witches as well. These had just moved on from the angels, after all angels were supposed to be otherworldly and I wanted some practical help and more magic. Appearing to be more loving and powerful, these witches were able to connect with me in a more tangible way. They seemed to understand me.
Soon I rebelled completely telling my parents I no longer wanted to attend church. There seemed to be so much to see, do and learn in the world, more than I could experience in the confines of a church. Apart from anything else, I could not see the love that these people were going on about. Since more than one level was operating in my life, a rift opened that become a cavernous ravine between my perception of the churchs unreality and real life, where I had to exist.
This next part of my life was the rights of passage bit where I had to find out for myself what was going on, where I fitted and what I was supposed to do. So where is this leading? Well eventually after some disastrous relationships, losing loads of money, falling out and in with this that and the other thing, I found myself talking to angels again.
There were some funny and bizarre turns along the way. One such event was at a time when our family business was in turmoil over my dads ill health and the future of the company. Assuming that their son, that was me, would take on the mantle of MD my parents were quite happy. My brother-in-law, who was also a director, seemed quite happy the way things were going too. We had had numerous meetings and discussions about possible solutions to the problem, but there were some nagging doubts lurking in the back of my mind. I had gone into the business but never felt that it was my end game so to speak. My one passion in life was painting. I started to paint at thirteen largely because I liked the look and feel of paint tubes. Fortunately, it turned that out I was not bad at putting brush to canvas, so my creativity was allowed to flourish. What this did was give my spirit something to hold onto, and a goal, a way into the subtle energies of the universe we are all a part of and can tap into. I did not think of it as spiritual, which did not matter it, was a start and it gave me a reason to use my imagination whilst looking for a purpose in my life.
One Friday lunchtime it all came to a head. Leaving the office looking for some inspiration I drove up to Hayslad Quarry, a favorite haunt of mine, taking a rock I called to some force to help me make the right decision. If the rock stays whole I stay at the company and do whatever, if it splits I go to freedom and unbridled creativity. The request was quite specific; it had to split not just splinter. It is very important thing to be specific when asking for help, there can be no gray areas. Hurling the rock, it broke quite deliberately into two pieces. My fate was sealed. What followed was the beginning of my re-awakenings.
It could be said that all this was chance. Picking a rock up and chucking it at a wall to decide a very important life decision, ridiculous! If it is broken down a little then it becomes less like chance. Let us examine the facts. I knew I was at a crossroads. I felt I was being pushed in several directions, each with a valid reason to be chosen. Being creatively sensitive due to an unfathomable urge, I was aware of subtle changes; I believed there was something I was destined for but could not make up my mind. It would have been easier to take the path that seemed more logical, providing me with a steady secure income. So I engaged the help of my intuition. The rock gave the higher forces a chance of getting directly involved in what I was doing. In my desperation to find an answer to the questions, I appeared to pick up any old rock and throw it. It broke so it gave me the answer. That is what I believed at the time. However, I was familiar with the rocks in this particular quarry, knowing that some were very hard to break and others easy. So I could have been sub-consciously drawn to the one which would give me the right decision, therefore loading the dice so to speak. Does it really matter; the outcome was the right one as it turned out. My faith in something or other grew stronger and I was on track, It felt right, even though there was a lot of heart ache to follow before I realized where I was going, what I was supposed to be doing and how to get there.
I am not suggesting that all boardroom decisions should be decided by rock hurling. There is an underlying lesson to be learnt though. Inspiration can come from all sorts of places as long as you are aware of what is going on and prepared to act on the information that is available allowing your inner energies to guide you. At the time of the rock-hurling incident my life was in turmoil, I knew that my direction was being questioned. It was also apparent that the rift between my spiritual and physical lives had to be addressed. Having buried spirituality because I could not see how it could exist along side life, I was unbalanced. The urge that I had to create things believing I was an undiscovered artist made me take the right decision at that time. I do not think that it is my goal to produce great paintings becoming the rave of cultural society, but if I had not thought it at the time, the right choice would not have been made.
© Phil Ironside