Memoirs of a Mystic: The Quest Begins Tuesday, Apr 10 2007
books and mystic living 11:37 am
Full of anxiety and anticipation, I boarded a 747 headed for Australia for what would turn out to be the adventure of my life. I slowly made my way down the aisle looking for my seat. I was one of the first to board, and as I moved deeper into the womb of the nearly empty cabin, I had the sensation I was somehow going back in time in readiness for a re-birth. Suddenly I was overcome with a slightly claustrophobic feeling. I found my seat in the back, sat down and quickly opened the overhead air vent, hoping this feeling would soon pass.
While waiting for the other passengers to board, I closed my eyes and tried slowing down my breathing to minimize my stress. Over and over, like a mantra in my head, I kept repeating, “You can do this! You will be safe!” The reason for my panic was simple. I was now face to face with the exceptionally tall order I’d given myself. I have been psychic all my life, while at the same time living a typical day-to-day earthbound existence. Now, following psychic promptings I’d received and for no other reason, and despite a desperate fear of flying, I was about to take off for a place I’d never seen. I would be traveling 8000 miles with no plan of what to do when I got there, and no money to tide me over till I got one. I decided to trust the universe and the first test.
In this strange place between fright and mini-intervals of calm, I felt something hit my ankle. I turned on the overhead light, bent over to find, resting on the floor at my feet a small amber-colored rock the size of a half dollar bearing the word “COURAGE” in gold letters. I picked it up, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Was the dim light playing tricks with my eyes? I got up to look around and discovered I was still the only passenger in the rear of the plane. The stone appeared not to have rolled along the floor but to have fallen from above, and to my left. It seemed improbable that it had flown that far from the forward cabin where others were boarding or even from behind or overhead.
I decided it was meant for me and, trying to reason how it had arrived and what it might mean, I remembered reading about people going on a vision quest as part of their search for greater understanding and meaning in their lives. For many, the journey had started with a call; as mine had, a compelling inner urge they could either accept or reject. If they accepted, they were then given supernatural help along the way. Although I didn’t think I was on such a quest, was this small stone a sign that I was being helped? I would certainly be needing courage and protection. I felt comforted when I thought this small gift might have come as supernatural support.
Several days before I left, I had tried to overcome my fear of flying with mental exercises and affirmation. But I still felt anxious, 17 hours seemed like a long time to be in the air. It would be the longest flight I had ever taken. I knew I had to find a way to calm myself or I would be a wreck by the time I landed in Melbourne. Clutching my courage stone, I watched as, one by one, passengers began to enter what had been, for a short time, my private world. Nervous chatter vibrated off the cabin walls as they found their seats. Two Japanese women had seats next to mine but when they saw a vacant center row, they quickly claimed it. They must have been experienced travelers
who knew how to take care of themselves on long flights. “Well, good for me!” I now had three seats all to myself and could sprawl out and get more comfortable.
The chatter settled into small murmuring as the steward told us to prepare for takeoff. Above the roar of the engines, passenger conversations, and the steward’s muffled words about oxygen masks, I could hear my heart pounding loud and fast in my chest. But when the plane finally lifted off the ground, and I felt my body being thrust back against my seat, for a brief moment my fear evaporated. Takeoff is the only part of flying that I don’t seem to mind, especially if I have a window seat which allows me to see where we are and where we’ve been. I watched as the cars, lakes and cities shrank in size, the higher we climbed.
It was a clear day with an occasional cloud here and there. One caught my attention, for a tiny moment it resembled a winged being. Leaning forward to get a better look, I recalled my fascination with clouds as a child. I would lie on the ground for hours, watching as they took on various shapes. This happy train of thought was short lived when we suddenly hit some turbulence. My fear returned, my body tensing with every bump. Even when it stopped, I couldn’t settle down. It was hard for me to focus on reading, or get interested in any of the movies offered. The farther away from home I got, the more I questioned my purpose in taking this trip. It was too late to turn back, I was irrevocably committed. All I could do at this point was surrender and let my thoughts take flight.
This article is the first chapter of Charlene’s memoir about her vision quest to Australia, Memoirs of a Mystic. If you would like to read the rest of the story we invite you to purchase her book at her website www.charleneryan.com