Storm 4
Chapter 7
In this chapter, I will return to weird happenings along my journey. Below is from my book She of the Silver Star:
I want to share a story of what happened to me as a young woman. In the early morning, I was sitting on the couch, dozing off before heading out to a morning shift at work. Realizing time must be getting away from me, I awoke suddenly and rose to my feet, not wanting to be late, but as I stood there I didn’t feel right. I felt “spacy,” but I took several steps until I had to stop to question what was wrong with my awareness. I turned around to where I had previously been sitting and froze, immobilized in confusion. Though I was standing there dressed in blue, where I formerly sat was “me” still sitting there, but dressed in black. Blond and still, sat my double, though I was standing in another place looking at me from about five feet away. Terrified and uncertain what this meant, I turned away trying to understand what I was witnessing, but I stood frozen not knowing what to make of this. Then I felt like a whirling in my head and then I felt normal again. I turned around. No one was sitting there any longer.
The Khaibit or sunshade is one’s double, but I have yet to reach a level where I understand it. Perhaps as I journey on, I will learn what it means.
Or was it the Ka? The Ka could manifest itself, as a ghost, to others, whether dead or alive. It is said there was both a higher, guardian angel-like Ka and lower Ka that came from knowledge learned on earth, according to the Encyclopedia of Ancient Egypt.
AL I, 8, tells us: “The Khabs is in the Khu, not the Khu in the Khabs”
Even Abraham Lincoln once saw his “double,” but it has been seen as an omen of death. I don’t think that is always the case. Others have seen my double, including my ex-husband who followed “me” into one room until I vanished. He then went into another room, where I was fast asleep, yet when I awoke he conveyed the story of what had happened. We just accepted it as one of those weird things that sometimes happens. I do think it gave him an awful fright, but it also challenged his senses, because surely a sleeping person cannot be in several places at once? Until it happens, witnessed by others, confused and at a loss to explain it.
Instead of my “double,” I had another interesting encounter, this time with author Geoffrey Ashe, I believe in the early to mid 1990’s, when my sister and I attended a lecture at the Heritage Store in Virginia Beach. We met upstairs in one of the sometimes rented rooms, where I once dressed in a brown robe and did Templar-inspired rituals with a group called O.M.C.E. On this particular occasion, my sister wanted to see this author who wrote books on Avalon, so I tagged along. We settled in the metal chairs upstairs surrounded by mystical pictures on the walls, where I was sizing up this English author, and found him to be aged like a craggy English country-side with a knowing glint in his eye. He seemed a gentle spirit, and he told a good tale, speaking of the magickal English countryside and of the enchanting myth of Avalon, but what popped out his mouth next had me almost falling out of my seat. He said he lived in Dion Fortune’s house, the Chalice Orchard. He asked who had heard of her and to raise our hands, and only about four out of the crowd of about twenty raised their hands. I was so excited to hear her name. As he spoke about Dion Fortune, I made comments to my sister, but he was only about ten feet away and I think he heard me, because he wouldn’t take his attention off us. What I said doesn’t matter, but he took it serious. His face changed, became more animated. Then I felt that weird sensation, like I was being drawn forward. It scared me. It was as if my consciousness was being pulled into another plane of awareness. I resisted and it stopped. Afterwards, my sister conveyed to me that she had the identical experience, not quite sure what the incidence meant. We were shaken and confused. What did we experience?
When the lecture ended, he went in the back of the room to sign books, but he paused and stared at me as I walked to the door, a skinny blond in purple mini skirt and jacket. I know he wanted to talk to me because of something I said, but got his attention nonetheless, perhaps recognizing a kindred soul. Our eyes locked, but I kept going, heading to the hallway and to the stairs. Again, running away, instead of seeing what he had to say. It would have been interesting.
I never had the privilege of knowing Dion Fortune or being in her former dwelling, but I am a priestess carrying her work within me for inspiration as I find my own way to be a servant. You see, I told Geoffrey he was in “my house.” Or that it is not only his. Yes, I was being facetious. I would have loved to have owned that house. I’m sure I was jealous. What I meant was that he was in the sanctum of Isis, belonging to the Sea Priestess herself, maybe one woman’s physical home such as Dion’s, but also a representative of all who are of Isis, because like Dion says, “Isis is the All-woman, and all women are Isis,” so what I said wasn’t a lie. He knew what I meant; I’m not one of the misguided who think they are actually Fortune or Crowley reincarnated. It’s about letting the work resonate within you, letting the myths and stories roll forward. With that in mind, I stroll away as aloof as Morgan Le Fay herself, in my mind at least, and in my amusement. Ancient and modern myths speak to us, invigorate us. I’m just a messenger saying that the Work as done by Dion Fortune, by Aleister Crowley, and even those novices like me, is alive and well, and growing and transforming, and this is what I want you to say to yourself -- that it is your house. It doesn’t belong to one person. It cannot be owned. It is not in the physical world. Don’t cling to dead masters or their houses, but visit them as needed, celebrate them, and continue the work with your contributions.
“I am the daughter of the house of the invisible. I am the Priestess of the Silver Star.” -- The Vision and the Voice
Some people can recognize others who travel in similar circles. I would have loved to hear what he had to say, but sometimes we are only briefly in people’s lives because that is all that is needed. I’m only relaying this odd story, because we do have more than one body, or should I say more than one part to that complicated body, and sometimes others learn to control their various “bodies,” of which they can control after death as well. Our awareness can go beyond the normal, if we wish to trek beyond it.
Sometimes, I wonder if my uncontrolled double isn’t running amok somewhere, and would I even know it? Too bad I don’t have Dion Fortune or Dr. Taverner, a character in one of her books, here to help me out. Maybe we all have multidimensional bodies that exist, but we can only be conscious of one them at a time while in this plane. That is beyond my present understanding.
What about my understanding these days? I still want to make a difference. Even at 51 (book was written in 2020), I think back to my youth, asking myself if I stayed true to my dreams, my goals, my reason for being. I wanted to give a voice to my pain, to my silence. I wanted the freedom to be a person and to practice my way.
Space is a vacuum. It awaits to be filled with potential. Some people fall into a pattern and just work, get married, have children, retire and die. Some have a mid-life crisis or regret what they have never done. I like where I have been, what I’m trying to do. I want to be able to continue that. I have great joy in writing my books. I do it out of love. I want others to realize that they can write too. They can practice without fear or persecution. I want the world to be different for them, to be safe and supportive....even if it will never happen.
I take a pause to picture Dr. Taverner again. We step off the porch to see the twinkling stars emerging in the black sky.
“Look at them all,” he says, trying to teach me something, “Do the planets doubt their orbit?”
“No,” I realize, “They take their place, each original and evolving and live out their cycle.”
“It’s quite beautiful from here, but you imagine yourself up there too, on various orbs undergoing their own storms.”
“Yes,” I reply, “because I want to know how it is all connected and what will become of it all. I’m trying to attach a meaning.”
“And I trust you are finding it?”
“I think so. The one that works for me.”
