by Elizabeth Andes-Bell
Most people don’t know this about me but, when I was a freshman in college, my friends and I were haunted by an evil entity that came through a ouija board.
Okay, granted, we were really stupid. Ouija boards can be dangerous, especially if you don’t know what you’re doing. I’m not recommending this method of success-training to anyone. It’s taken me decades to come to terms with it but, it was an incredibly valuable lesson that I will never forget.
It was late at night and, as usual, Kimball Hall was buzzing like a busy-bee hive. Our room was across the hall from the kitchenette and the lounge.
Under the humming of too many bright lights, clusters of coeds were swarming around in pj’s and slippers, microwaving pizza, incessantly talking and laughing loudly.
Our door, however, was shut tight and inside the room, things were very different.
It was dark, eerily silent and cramped.
Chipper and I were sitting on the floor in Fig’s tiny single. The three of us were ‘playing’ with the ouija board. Chip held a candle, our only light. Fig was trying to contact an old boyfriend, a Canadian who had died in a skiing accident.
That was our big mistake.
Fig and I worked the planchette, well actually, it worked us. We stopped asking questions as it told us all sorts of tales: Fig was a re-incarnation of Marie Antoinette. I had been Saint Paul in a past life, and therefore, there was nothing to fear, a true sign of awesome self-delusion if there ever was one.
The planchette swirled lazily around and around, rocking us back and forth, weaving fantastic flattering tales for the better part of an hour.
Then, it all abruptly changed.
The planchette’s speed suddenly got very fast and it’s tone got very nasty and sinister. Our fingers could barely stay on the crazy thing.
It spelled out the words I’ll never forget, words that would haunt me for years.
It said “I am not Jan” (Canadian ski guy), “I am Voss!”
At that moment, the indicator rose up in the air, flipped over and came down as a fury of icy cold wind.
I was thrown back into the metal closet doors, which reverberated like a giant, dissonant drum.
Fig hit the window ledge behind her.
We both got up and ran out of the room as fast as possible.
It took us a second to get our bearings out there in the blindly bright lounge.
Then, to our horror, we realized Chip wasn’t with us.
She was still in the room, frozen with fear, juggling the candle, breathing in the cold for
a few crucial seconds longer than we had.
Fast Forward About Six Weeks:
It was too much for Chip.
She had a breakdown, stopped eating and left school. She came back to school a year later to visit.
But this was not the life of the party, air-guitaring virtuoso, old Chip we knew. This was not the Pied Piper who could whip us up into a dancing frenzy to John Mayall’s Room to Move.
She was a whole different kind of crazy. She said very little. She moved with a kind of cautious pain, like the air was sandpaper on her skin.
She looked like a skeleton. Long black hairs were growing out of her face. That was the last time I saw her.
Fig became a recluse, was afraid of the dark, and had to sleep with the light on and her door open.
I stupidly did the ouija board a few more times but, never with the same board, never with Fig and always in other rooms. One night, I asked about her.
I was told that she would go out to a bar, meet a townie who would help her recover and marry him within the year.
Oh, and a combination of his first and last names was ‘Tonman’. It seemed a bit far fetched.
Then, one morning, a guy named Al was in our bathroom. Fig had brought him home from a bar the night before. Six months later, they were married. His name was Alton Coleman.
I went into denial.
I pretended it didn’t happen, sort of. I perfected a pretty conventional facade, except that somewhere along the way, I lost that glint in my eyes , I lost my mojo and myself.
I feared Voss was tracking me. After a while, I was afraid to even mention his name.
Years went by, I went to healing school, partly to figure out how to deal with this whole crazy shit.
I learned how to remove entities and astral attachments. I released negative energy back into the light.
I overcame my terror but, I never really dug deep enough into my own pathology. What I was doing to me, what I was gaining by never stepping out and being vulnerable was never having any skin in the game. I played it safe, in the dead zone, on the edges.
Mostly, now in retrospect, I realize I gave over my power to the threat of an unseen force. Hiding was safe. I could never fail (and consequently never succeed).
I kept my head down. I colluded with all the forces to remain invisible and ineffective. God-forbid if someone disliked me or rejected me. I chamelioned myself into who I thought others wanted me to be. I became terrified of standing out.
Now, hiding can work for a very long while unless, of course, if standing out is also the one thing you crave the most. Then the dramatic tension is set up to become an epic battle in your psyche.
It’s you, all dewy-eyed essence and promise looking into your future versus the demon named ‘Voss’ or your own unnamed demons and who’s gonna win?
Fast Forward A Whole Lotta Years…
I want to save you a lot of time and energy so I’ll tell you what I’ve learned (remember, this is about success).
Lesson #1: Choose to be Fearless but Don’t Make a Thing Out of Fear.
What we call ‘evil’ is just contracted energy that wants to be released in the flow.
Fear is also contracted energy and, like ‘evil’, it also longs to be reconnected to the flow of the energy wave.
It’s a non-dual universe. Good and evil, fearless and fear are just two sides of the same coin. Feel it all but don’t let any of it stop you.
It’s just energy and all energy wants to move.
It wants to resolve itself back into the pure light of oneness, as all energy does.
Besides, most of the time, it’s just our own shadow we’re running away from.
Lesson #2: Never, Ever Confuse Your Magic with Magical Thinking!
Your Magic is your innate power.
You can squander it, ignore it and refuse to cultivate it but, no one can take it from you. Unfortunately, though, you can give it away.
Magical Thinking, on the other hand, is child-like, childish thinking. It’s OK for a five year-old but, hopefully, we outgrow it.
Magical thinking is when we think big, scary, uncontrollable things will happen to us unless we obey and make sacrifices to the Gods. Human sacrifices are expected. My personal favorite sacrifice was the gift of my fire. I snuffed it out, or tried to. I pretended to be ‘a good girl’. Thankfully, I failed.
Lesson #3: Your Power is Yours When You Claim It
Just like you can give it away, you can also take it back, anytime.
If fear is how we are diminished and controlled, some part of you has to say yes to it. We have to agree to it.
It’s an understandable, knee-jerk response to something big, scary and seemingly uncontrollable. We don’t want that discomfort. We pay dearly for our safety.
Except, once we say yes to fear, then the truth, the real truth, is hidden. We forget about our authentic power. We stop believing in our own magic. That is how we give it power over us.
But, guess what, it only works until the spell is broken.
If you think this is the stuff of fairy tales, don’t. It’s happening right now.
We’re always being seduced, shamed or guilted into falling into compliance.
So, this is a special shout out to Madelyn Albright who, while campaigning for Hilary Clinton said, “There is a special place in hell for women who don’t help other women.”
Show me the place in hell for the women who settle for a seat at the board table of ‘business as fucking, patriarchal usual’. Help is not colluding with the mistaken view that reality is about separation and lack.
That’s not called help, Madelyn, that’s called bullying. It’s just another way we get schnuckered into giving away our power.
I know this one really well. I know it because, for years I was afraid to stand out, to confront, to be ‘difficult’. I felt safety, a kind of dull, drone-like, oppressive safety, in being part of the crowd.
I’m telling you, don’t do it. Don’t sell your soul to any deva or demon asking for your fire.
There is really only one thing to say to fear, to intimidation, to evil.
Repeat After Me…
YOUR MAGIC IS REAL.
YOUR POWER IS YOURS WHEN YOU CLAIM IT.
You won’t really be successful with half your fire. You’re big. Your energy is big. Some people will be uncomfortable with that.
So be it.
Break through the psychic and physical blocks to your power. Awaken your capacity to run your big, authentic energy. Then get yourself ready to deal with the big energy your success demands of you.
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