A Year Without Fear: WHO YA GONNA CALL?

ghostbustersI came into this life with a major chip on my shoulder toward the supernatural. And by ‘supernatural,’ I meant all things unseen, from ghosts and angels to demons and faeries, to chakras, auras, the devil and God. I was blindly terrified by all of it. Wanted nothing whatsoever to do with any of it.

Yet it all felt so alarmingly, threateningly close by. So I slammed and locked all possible doors of entry, fingers plugged securely in ears, eyes squeezed shut, my quavering solo rendition of La-La-La-La-La echoing tunelessly throughout the black, malicious universe.

But then a spiritual life started following me around. Licking my hand, gazing at me imploringly with those irresistible puppydog eyes. What’s a body to do? I brought it home to live with me. And with it came a gradual acceptance of unseen guides and helpers, and maybe (grudgingly) an angel or two. I even began to consider revising my opinion of God.

Old fears started to heal. I found I wasn’t afraid of the dark anymore. But I knew there was still a deep, untouched core of terror at the heart of this supernatural issue. And that was more or less ok with me. It could stay there if it wanted, down in the horrifying icy depths, as long as it promised never to come out and do its unimaginably evil thang in my presence.

•          •          •

But then I started regularly visiting England a couple of years ago. Home, seemingly, to a disproportionate number of the entities on that original supernatural shit list. Between the ghosts, faeries and ley line whatnots, ‘supernatural’ is the UK’s Middle Earth-middle name.

One day in April of 2012, on a drizzly park bench at the ruins of Glastonbury Abbey, I was suddenly shown an inspiration by my higher self that caused me to take a spontaneous vow: I agreed to stop hiding. To take my fingers out of my ears, open my eyes and stop blocking my own gifts of awareness. It was a vow to fully let in the supernatural, as well as my own true relationship with it—whatever that might be. (For the complete story of this event, see That ‘Ol Black Magic, written in May of that year.)

The vow itself scared the bejeezus out of me. But I knew it was the right thing. Even if I wasn’t ready to actually do what it suggested at that time, at least the intention for wholeness had been set.

•          •          •

These days I live on a farm in the Southwest of England. The farm property dates back to Georgian times, as does nearly every other building within a 10-mile radius. (That’s ‘Georgian’ as in King George, by the way. You know, the one who reigned during the American Revolution. 250-odd years of inhabitants between then and now, is what I’m saying.)

Uh oh.

Luckily, a lot has changed for me over the past two years, and one of those changes is that the supernatural core of terror has begun to melt of its own accord. So much so, that I’ve developed a sort of an unexpectedly fond relationship with a rather playful entity that seems to intermittently share the place with us.

Which doesn’t freak me out. Its antics amuse me (usually), and it, in turn, seems to enjoy my responses.

And in those times when it isn’t funny—when, for instance, the sat nav disappears from the table where Steve put it just moments before rushing out the door to an appointment, I chide the unseen entity as I would an 8-year-old. And the next time I turn and look, the GPS unit has been put back where Steve left it.

It means us no harm, this thing. I think it’s probably just bored.

But I wasn’t congratulating myself on the healing of the supernatural issue. Not quite yet.

Because even though I’ve been forming peculiar little relationships with, um, invisible friends, I knew full well that there was still an entire universe of unseen stuff that I was resisting.

And somewhere in there, the terror was alive and well.

•          •          •

A few nights ago I couldn’t sleep. I was physically uncomfortable, funny little electrical impulses running through my legs. I felt like I couldn’t get enough oxygen, like my body was compulsively demanding deep, rhythmic breathwork. (But I didn’t want to do breathwork in the middle of the night. I wanted to sleep.)

My mind felt like it does whenever the veil is too thin for comfort—scratchy, swirly, trance-y, with a feeling of old, stuck emotions coming up in the far distance. I watched as grief and terror showed themselves faintly before being squashed again, scolded like wayward children and sent back to their prison cells without supper.

I knew something big was coming up, asking for healing and release. I strongly suspected it was the supernatural thing. I got out of bed, not wanting to disturb Steve, and went to sit by myself in the darkened living room.

Uneasily, I reviewed my options. I could keep the whole thing bottled up for the rest of this lifetime; I could go on holding back the terror avalanche that pressed against the door of my conscious awareness. It had sort of worked thus far, and would probably keep doing the job for another several decades. Damn, except for one thing: That vow I made back in 2012…I promised. I swore I’d heal this issue.

Besides, much more recently than 2012, I signed an agreement with my higher self, to live a year without fear. There were no exclusionary clauses in that contract. I’m either all in, or I’m not.

But the supernatural is a special category.

No it isn’t. There are no special categories.

It was time to get at that silent-screaming core of horror. Time to see it, feel it and let it go, once and for all. (Assuming I did not drop dead of fright first, of course.)

So I went into negotiation mode.

Ok if I have to do it now, I’m the one who gets to choose how it goes down. I refuse to do it the hard way. The hellishly heart-attack-making, agonizing way. It’s either gentle and easy, or I don’t wanna play.

I must have dozed off after that. Groggy, I roused myself and shuffled back toward the bedroom. As I groped my way toward the door, I suddenly stopped, stepping back with a gasp.

A dark figure stood between me and the bedroom door. I could see no features, no gender, no clothing. Just a bald-headed shape of a slender human body, slightly taller than me. Standing there. Waiting.

At first I thought it must be Steve, passing me in the hallway on his way to the bathroom. But it did not move.

Was it a trick of the eyes? A shadow? I couldn’t be certain, but it didn’t seem like either one. This thing had…gravitas, for lack of a better word. A sort of weight, or presence.

I wasn’t afraid, exactly, but let’s just say I was very alert. Very.

I surveyed it as closely as I could in the dark. Its essence seemed neutral, empty of ambition or intent. I didn’t know what it wanted, but apart from its slightly forbidding appearance it didn’t seem to mean me any harm.

As we stood facing each other (less than 2 feet apart), I reached up to tighten the belt on my bathrobe. To my amazement, it reached up simultaneously and made the identical gesture at its own waist. Even though it wore no bathrobe.

In a flash I understood.

“OMG! It’s me!” I laughed out loud and walked right through it without a thought, opened the door and went back to bed.

•          •          •

I lay in the dark, thinking about that non-accidental proclamation, OMG! It’s me!

I knew it was a teaching. This was the easy, gentle lesson I’d asked to learn.

A couple of blog posts ago, in I Am $600,000 (and so are you) I had learned to accept responsibility for the creation of the whole 3-D world. I recognized not only that I had created it, but that I was it, for better and worse. And that felt like plenty to digest and accept at that time.

But let’s be honest, the 3-D portion of the cosmos is only a tiny fraction of all the vast stuff we creators create. The whole unseen world has to be accepted as my own creation—and my own responsibility—as well.

Through that slender, naked shadow-man, I had been gently shown the mind-boggling truth: Everything that seems to exist, whether seen or unseen, is part of myself. The good, the bad, the ugly. The supernatural. They are all my creations, and I’m responsible for them.

And if I remain in terror of them, then I remain terrified of myself.

This was a lot to take in. I started to call on Archangel Michael and various assorted guides of divine light and love, asking them to lead and protect me as I processed this alarming new information. (I also didn’t want to encounter any more shadow-men without beefing up my security detail first.) But halfway through the call for help I realized…oh shit…they’re all me, too.

They’re happy to assist for as long as I believe I need it, but they want me to recognize this: They don’t have anything I haven’t already got myself, because they’re not separate from me in any way. Their power is my own.

There’s only me, apparently. Only one of us in truth.

It sounds great as spiritual theory, this business of being all one.

But in practice, it’s a hell of a thing to stand still for, let alone embrace.

I decided not to resist the new information. And with this decision, I was shown a vision of myself, teeth gritted, grimacing with the supreme effort of holding back the wall made of self: The wall of unseen supernatural knowing and dread, which is actually nothing more than a part of me that’s begging to come home and be loved. I watched as I sagged, collapsing against the wall, exhausted.

To my great surprise, this act of surrender did not release the hounds of hell. It brought peace. The weight of eons, lifted.

•          •          •

I’m still afraid. I still don’t want to encounter things of evil intent (or even things of spooky demeanor), if I can possibly help it. I know I still have work to do.

But this was a biggie, this acceptance of responsibility for the supernatural. I have undergone the DNA testing to determine its parentage, and OMG, it’s me.

So there you go. It turns out that in the clear light of oneness, I am both the ghostbuster and the ghost. And the same, my dear, is true of you. Which makes that old question a surprisingly interesting one:

Who, indeed, are ya gonna call?

 

21 Replies to “A Year Without Fear: WHO YA GONNA CALL?”

  1. Carrie… This is Fabulous!! I Love it… I Am the Ghost and the Ghostbuster!!! I just finished reading “The Manuel for Teachers”… (2X in a row!)… It is the Contract that is Between God and Me… not ego… and the manual is clear… We are either All In or Not. 100% of the time…. That took me on a little ride… so I Join You in GhostBusting ALL GHOSTS, ALL THE TIME! Thanks Carrie!!!!

    1. Yep, it’s either all in, or stay home! That’s the contract. No fine print anyplace, it’s written in big bold letters. 🙂 Pretty exciting, when you think about it.

  2. My inner Guide – Blue I call him – became clear to me, clear to hear, in about 1992, when I had had demonic attacks for years. I utter exhaustion I started to talk questions to God into my little dream-recorder in bed, and then I spoke the answer into it. It very soon became clear that the Guidance was trustworthy, and I was led to ways to relate to the unseen, and the understanding how it was created – by me, the Holy confused Son of God.
    In the next 25 years, through my patients and I – I worked as an Expressive Arts Therapist and healer – a clear pattern was shown: a set or archetypes constituting fear. I collected the results – the paintings, stories,dances,dramas etc etc and put it together in a book I self published last year on Amazon-
    http://www.amazon.com/dp/1491219904
    In case you want to take a look:)

    love
    Nina Hlavaty

  3. Thanks Carrie again for re-affirming what we chose to forget so we as one could play this game of unlimited potentially. We as one are the light and the dark and everything inbetween. The pretender and the pretended. What fun! And what a great story lesson! It really puts a different spin on the concept of fear.
    Loving all that’s you,
    Brenda

  4. So beautifully stated Carrie. I too have been fascinated and a bit terrified of anything supernatural, and had been “trying” to talk to my guides. But what you wrote so resonated with me, it felt like library books that had been on loan had been returned and I am now integrated and complete. All that I need is within, EVERYTHING, and within is where the answer is. I love you so much. it feels like we are sitting across from each other in a kitchen chit chatting and I am nodding and smiling and so excited to see what comes next! xoxoxoxox

    1. yep, big mugs of tea, nibbly things on a plate, and good conversation that lasts for hours. that’s just how it feels. 🙂 xoxo

  5. I found you just like I find everyone who inhabits my circle – I simply let my fingers do the walkin’ and my mouse pad do the talkin’ and walla, hear YOU ARE. Everyday is a new adventure. I AM so thrilled to discover what is going to show up in my hologram. I was twice blessed today as a new singer, Eleanor Tara, and YOU magically appeared.

    Of course you both just ME. Two more reminders as to why I fall in love with ME each day. Thank you for adding to my own expansion.

    In Joy and Service,

    Scott .

  6. Very inspiring, thank you very much. Such a vow to make, a year without fear. After reading this particular blog, i came to think of aliens. I have them put into two categories: either much more advanced spiritually and helpful to us (in the idea of being a human) OR much more advanced technically and out “to get us”. But it’s the same, isnt it? BOTH also fall into the “OMG-it’s me!!” category. Mmm. … that lifts it up. (pfffft)

  7. Spooky stuff until it isn’t, when it all dissolves in Truth. So love your sharing and writing – and it applies in oh so many ways. “I” made it up? Yep, I did and so if it’s spooky or if it’s laughable, owning it is one step to transforming the thought behind it.

    1. Yes Laura! I look forward to when the spooky stuff isn’t. Right now the truth is tickling it all around the edges, but nobody’s laughing. yet. But as you say, it’s a step…it’s all part of transforming the thoughts (unconscious or otherwise) that created it all in the first place. 🙂 xx

  8. Thanks for sharing this wonderful story!
    Amazing how the lesson was tailor-made to your preferences ( “I refuse to do it the hard way”).

    Somehow the resolution to live without fear makes you post at a really fast rate ( which is wonderful for me as a reader).
    As if without fear the lid is off and stuff bubbles up more frequently.

    The story reminds me a bit of one I read about Nabala about the disappearance of the angels.
    She was in a Reiki workshop about angels. Participants were sending angels’ messages to each other when suddenly everything collapsed and nothing was separate anymore , and consequently sending angels’ messages didn’t work anymore either . She was planning to offer a workshop about angels herself , but after everything collapsed into oneness she couldn’t do that anymore. Instead she changed the content of the workshop to “Being” ( and was surprised that people still would want to participate).
    (From http://www.spirituelles-portal.de/Nabala-Das-Verschwinden-der-Engel,2,198.html ,
    but it is in German only .)

    That made me think: It means that if we are in that place where all is one, then not only the ghosts fall away , but the angels , too.

    1. Hi Karin! Yes, that was one of the handy realizations I took away from the earlier lessons showing me my infinite creative self: everything I experience is there because I chose it — and I can easily choose how I want to experience anything. So a longstanding terror of the supernatural must be undone, yes, I can’t just say “I choose it to go away all by itself in a puff of pink smoke!” I need to do the work to accept it and love it and choose against fear. But I definitely get to choose how I want the lesson to go! It only has to be hard work if I say it does! I’m done with agony and hard work. I did it that way for far too long, before realizing I have infinite options to do it another way.

      No, LOL, I’m posting more often because that was part of the contract. I should attempt to live without fear, examine every fearful impulse, and then write what I uncover. Big stuff is always going on, but I usually don’t blog about it unless specifically inspired to.

      Yes, about the angels, I was just thinking about that part again this morning. That’s huge, and it’s a pretty scary thing all by itself. When you’re beginning to see through the supernatural dream but still plenty scared of it, the seeming loss of protective angels is pretty alarming. It’s an awkward middle stage, but surely the release of fear is right around the corner because that’s my intention. And what I say goes!! 😀 But that’s a very interesting story about the Reiki angel workshop, thank you.

  9. Woohoo Carrie!
    Your posts and the comments from others are so helpful in moving thru the unseen world. I was terrorized by spookies. demonic spirits, mean entities all my life but especially was tormented (tormented myself) starting in my early 20s. I always suspected it was me but the fear didn’t lessen. Of course I was cheery on the outside but so afraid on the inside. I could see, sense and hear them tearing me down. Years later my husband and I were in a session with a therapist I had been seeing for years and I came clean about the scary spirits /demons. I had healed enough throug acim that I could talk about it. It struck me they shriveled so much like a balloon losing it’s air that I laughed until I cried. It still makes me laugh! I have a way to go but the fear is icing out as love moves in. I love ghosts now not too fond of demons tho. I read a short and lovely book by Sally Dubels daughter Leni about being around and communicating with spirits. I don’t remember the name, but it’s free and may be on her FB page. She gives them cookies and imagines jewelry especially for them.

    1. Oh thank you, I’ll have to check out Leni’s book, I love the idea of cookies and jewelry!
      I, too, have a way to go, as I’ve sort of crept back into being afraid of the dark since that event with the shadow man. Which, on the surface, seems like about 20 years regression! But I know it isn’t. This time, the darkness gets lit up permanently by Love, because I’ve already decided nothing at all can have a permanent home in the dark anymore. And a week of heebie-jeebies here and there won’t alter that decision one bit. Yay for self-granted liberation! xx

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