In 1986, a soft light embraced me, penetrating my skin and bones, saturating my cells, and dissolving my ego into oneness.
Words still hinder attempts to communicate the depth, energy, and stunning brilliance of my twenty-minute spiritual experience, an awakening that strengthened and expanded everything I had learned as a child of God. Even the name "God" wasn't big enough to describe the sacred presence. My "purpose" for life on this planet was not revealed that day, but "death lost its sting."*
Forty years later, I am compelled to share what happened because the memory of it still inspires hope.
I was thirty-one
when I traveled from a 110-degree desert in Phoenix, Arizona to a
woman’s Christian retreat in the high
country. Cool mountain air and ponderosa pines immediately “restored my soul,”
but it was the fellowship with women from my church that provided the respite I
needed from full-time mothering responsibilities.
That first night,
we sang, laughed, and prayed. I soon realized my knowledge of the Bible was
pretty slim. I had read most of the New Testament and could recite Old
Testament stories, but compared to other women’s Bibles, the one I brought—the
one I received in third grade--showed minor wear on the leather cover. No dog-eared pages. No rips. No underlined passages. The
leader’s Bible, on the other hand, was falling apart. The spine hung to the
worn cover by threads and loose pages were heavily marked with ink. I expected the
tome to be an heirloom passed down through many generations, but the Bible's
publication date was 1978. It was only
eight years old. I longed to love God like
that.
The afternoon
session on the second day ended with a skit.
One woman sat in a chair, and another knelt before her with a bowl of
water and a towel. The kneeler, as
Jesus, began washing the feet of the seated woman, who looked down lovingly
while singing “Jesus loves me, this I know….” Humility flooded my heart as I imagined the Prince of Peace washing my feet, and then, a soft light embraced me. It spread out, enveloping the
walls, tables, chairs, and everyone in the room. I studied the faces of the women, but no one
noticed this overpowering light, which felt like love.
Still submerged in
the light, I walked outside, hoping no one would talk to me. I didn’t want to break the spell. I walked for at least twenty minutes under trees,
past grasses and wildflowers, but I did not absorb them as solid entities. I was drawn to their cellular energy. Our boundaries dissolved, my sense of “self” vanished, and we became one. Time lost its meaning--replaced by a cosmic, magnetic force that can only be described as Love, unconditional and eternal.
I stepped gingerly
along a path, soaking in the energy, until I came upon a covered outdoor chapel with an old piano at
one end. Wanting to praise this light of
unconditional love, I sat down and played “Amazing Grace.” Soon, women from the retreat filed into the
chapel, and the surrounding light that only I could feel at that moment receded as we sang
hymns together. I wanted to share my
experience, but it was too fresh, too indescribable, and I kept it to myself
for several weeks.
I naively thought
my spiritual awakening was unique, similar to descriptions of near-death
experiences, Moses and the burning bush, and Jesus's “radiance” during his
transfiguration. But who was I to have such a holy encounter with the Universe?
I finally garnered enough courage to recount my spiritual experience during an ecumenical Bible study. I shared everything—from the foot washing to the light-infused walk to playing hymns on a piano. I emphasized that Love was at the center. With pursed lips and hard eyes, an evangelical woman dismissed my story, saying if it involved light, it was “New Age.” Heretical. Satanic. I reminded her of “And there was light” in Genesis and “I am the light of the world” in the Gospel, but she was adamant that I should be wary and not speak of it again. I never returned to the Bible study, but I’m glad the evangelical woman confronted me. She unknowingly provided a valuable lesson: never insist I have all the answers.
Since then, I have gathered examples and evidence of spiritual experiences, not to convince skeptics but to honor astonishing stories similar to mine. I have discovered the universality of spiritual awakenings among all religions and indigenous cultures—even numerous academics, atheists, and scientists have recounted their experiences.
When I recognize elements of oneness in a poem, a story, a parable, or an essay, my heart leaps with joy. I know the writer has experienced what I experienced. I connected deeply with a 26-year-old Tibetan monk's recollection of his near-death experience, which he said was "something beyond the conceptual mind":
As a drop of water placed in the ocean becomes indistinct, boundless, unrecognizable, and yet still exists, so my mind merged with space. It was no longer a matter of me seeing trees, as I had become the trees. Me and the trees were one. Trees were not the object of awareness; they manifested awareness. Stars were not the object of appreciation but appreciation itself. No separate me loved the world. The world was love. My perfect home. Vast and intimate. Every particle was alive with love, fluid, flowing, without barriers. "
--Yongey Mingyur Rinpoche**
May mystery astound you,
Cynthia
* "O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting? 1 Corinthians 15:55
**Rinpoche, Yongey Mingyur. In Love with the World: A Monk's Journey Through the Bardos of Living and Dying. Random House. 2021. p. 226.
Coming up: Part II Light of Unconditional Love: Spiritual Awakenings of Academics and Scientists
Image by Abdullah Ahmad from Pixabay
Feel free to comment on this post. I would also love to hear about your dreams and metaphysical experiences! Please contact me if you would like to receive email updates or a consultation. cynthiamystic222@gmail.com.
