The fact that I’ve been compiling a book recently has resulted in the dereliction of some other duties including writing a blog post here every now and then. The book is currently awaiting wifely editing and so I have time to catch up with the blog while enjoying revelry in the memory of an extraordinary jogging event that occurred in the late spring of 2019. If I had one, I’d have to make this an entry in my Personal Miracle Journal.
Another similar such entry would be the time that I was jogging and found myself running, arms outstretched, with a group of swallows, across a field near Locarno beach. Significantly adding to the emotional impact of the inherent love and joy on that occasion was the physical power of hard-pumping legs, lungs and heart. These three things also drove the empowerment of this more recent natural jogging event.
I used to zen out and primarily think about Oneness while jogging. This later transitioned more into thinking about Gramercy in accordance with personal dream guidance. This is what I was most thinking and feeling during much of this particular jog around Burnaby lake.
On the return homeward, I don’t know how many seconds, if that long, it took but I could tell, for a certainty, that I was going to get hit by rapture as if it was chasing me, fast, from behind. When it hit it was a shuddering, ecstatic rapturous moment as I continued to jog. I don’t know how long this exquisite love and joy lasted either but it was only for a few moments.
The most remarkable thing that occurred, that prevents my writing off this incident as the vague memory of a transient shudder, was that, precisely as these ecstatic moments occurred, a single simple white butterfly, arriving from behind, spiraled in front of my face as if it had just shot out of my third eye (pineal gland), and fluttered off down the sunny forest path ahead.
Either I had just enjoyed a genuine rhapsodic spiritual event or my pituitary (crown) gland had gotten dive-bombed by a fluttery little white butterfly with potent magic powers.
If I had a Native name it might be “Runs with swallows and butterflies”.
I don’t have many of these miraculous natural encounters but, now arriving every couple of years or so, they’ve dramatically increased in frequency.
Miracles Happen.