Michaelwclark.com

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A true paranormal story

Yesterday I was up in my room, working away on the computer. I heard a loud banging sound from outside my door. The other person in the house called up, “What was that!”

To me it sounded metallic, like the lid of a pot falling to the floor, or maybe a bathroom suction cup holder crashing into the tub.

I wasn’t overly concerned, and busy in the middle of something,  so called back down “I’ll be there in a minute…”

Another call from downstairs, “Mike, could you come down please.”

Slightly miffed at being disturbed, I went downstairs.

What I saw gave me a start!

The cross in this photo had somehow fallen directly into the blue bowl below. At the time there was no cloth padding in the bowl, so it made a mighty DING!

As you can see, the cross is firmly secured with an almost oversized hook. And the twine is in good shape. Unbroken.

So how did it happen?

No minor earthquake nor tremor would have shaken that free. Anyhow, we didn’t feel one nor was anything like that reported in the city.

I believe in the paranormal, especially when it comes to interior perception. But rarely have I witnessed physical objects moving. And a cross!

To make sure the cross wasn’t trashed if it happened again, I placed the cloth in the blue bowl. But chances are it was a one-time occurrence.

You know what they say, truth is stranger than fiction.

 

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Me before my coffee

This may seem a joke but seriously, coffee really helps me to rise above some of the creepy stuff lurking in the so-called collective unconscious.

Image via Tumblr

Image via Tumblr


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Trying to be a good Catholic – I did an experiment, here’s the results

Follow the Star by MC via Flickr

Follow the Star by MC via Flickr

Ever since I converted to Catholicism back in 2001, I found it was a two-sided experience. I had been going through a challenging time after living in India for a couple of years. The West seemed strange, and I learned what they mean by the term, reverse culture shock.

Some people take their hard shell selves with them when they travel. And they return home as if they’d just watched a nice slide show. They know a little more about the world but remain fundamentally unchanged. Not so with me. I was going through a tremendous time of transition. So I was soaking up Indian ways – and vibes – more than most.

I was very open. This openness and sensitivity is a good thing. But I needed something to get me back to my truest self. My core.

Funnily enough, as a former Protestant who never went to church growing up, I found that Catholicism was the path that brought me back to myself. Not just to my Western ego. For me, that’s necessary but secondary. No, I mean my genuine, created self. The one who stands before God in humility and full realization of his human imperfection.

So all fine and dandy, right? I found my spiritual home after years of searching. And I didn’t have to travel miles and miles to exotic lands to feel well. Catholic churches are ubiquitous. In fact, where I live, I tend to rotate among seven, all within about 15 minutes of home. A taste of heaven in 15 minutes. Not bad.

So what’s the problem? Is there a problem?

Well, yes and no.

No, if I keep rotating and don’t get too invested in any single parish. Yes, if I try to be like regular churchgoers.

Image via Tumblr

Image via Tumblr

I’m sure a mean-spirited psychiatrist would have a field day with that. “He cannot settle down in any one parish. He needs to constantly escape to feel anonymous,” etc. etc.

But it’s really not that simple. And I think some people just don’t get why I have to do Catholicism my own way.

It gets back to my sensitivity. In any parish there is good and not so good. There are nice and not so nice people. There are priests who seem en route to heaven and others who might be in for a rude surprise when they die.

And I tend to sense vibes from all of this. Not just the heavenly graces, but also the very real human stuff. It’s always a balancing act. If I frequent one parish too often, there’s a kind of build up of the same stuff. It’s like watching the same movie over and over again. But worse, you’re also picking up the same vibes ad nauseam.

So I rotate.

Sometimes I grow disenchanted or fatigued by the overall Catholic scene. Several times I’ve tried just staying away. But after a week or two, I’m always happy to get back.

It’s a funny thing, similar to a plant needing water, but not too much water. Too much and the plant drowns, just as being dehydrated can kill too. And if you always draw your water from the same well, the same assortment of trace pollutants could build up. So it’s better to draw your water from different wells.

Splash by MC via Flickr

Splash by HC via Flickr

Today I’m feeling slightly over-watered, so to speak, by the same type of water. Last week I did a little experiment. I went to the same parish every day. There were nice things, nice people and nice conversations. But toward the end of the week, the buildup was happening again. The same old vibes, the same old stuff. And the same texture of the Holy Spirit (for me, each parish differs that way too).

I don’t really know why I’m sharing this publicly. For years I’ve kept my private experience to myself or only shared with my intimate friends. But today I confess: I can’t be a perfectly conventional Catholic but at the same time, I can’t be without Catholicism.

Perhaps some of you can relate in your own way, in your own circles.


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Playing around with Windows 10 – Artificial Intelligence, Cortana

Cortana has a sense of humor… Image via Tumblr


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A deep inner beauty


When I tell people that I like to go to catholic mass I often sense some kind of inner reservation from the other person. I’m not surprised. I know why. Or I have a pretty good idea. The Inquisitions, the child abuse, the corruption. Or maybe just the regimentation. Not to forget the sexism.

I know all about that stuff but regardless, still feel the Holy Spirit active in the Mass. Some folks give me a blank or hard look when I say that. To me, that just tells me something about where they are. Many people think they are open minded but imo are just as narrow and regimented in their thinking as any hardcore Catholic.

Myself, I just go on what I feel. And that leaves me open to a whole new vista that I didn’t even know existed, prior to recognizing the call.


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The Northern European gods and goddesses come alive!

I’ve owned this book for some time but it’s been sitting in my basement, highly respected and largely ignored. I hoped I’d get to it some day. Finally, after years of letting it just sit there, I cracked the cover. Amazing book. Really good. At least, right for me… right now.

The author mentions other luminaries in the field yet resists the temptation, which many bigger names did not, of spelling out some grand mythological theory. So in this sense she’s incredibly contemporary for 1964 (the publication date).

Grand theory is generally “out” these days, I think it’s safe to say. H. R. Ellis Davidson seems quite content to just discuss the evidence without overlaying her own imaginative framework. And that’s what makes this charming and informed work a true classic.

Highly recommended for anyone wanting to go a little deeper into the topic.


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they’re there

elemental fract/on

For a while I lived above an old diner. It was built around 1920. This place had a life of it’s own, you could feel the past still alive inside. At night when the diner closed you could still sense someone was inside. The hallway to get to my door was long and narrow. Occasionally it would feel like someone walked by me as I unlocked my door, the air moved. At times you just knew someone was right in front of you, staring, ready to confront you. I always entered through the back of the building. Two flights of metal stairs. Going up, they watched. I was the new guy. The one that wasn’t excited about the diner atmosphere. The one you would only get a hello out of if you were lucky. They watched me coming up. They moved out into the hall, silent but present. One place I…

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