I headed over to the Enchanted Garden (nice name eh?), and they knew me because I ate there a lot. It was one of my regular hangouts. When I walked in, the regular waitress came over and introduced me to a new waitress. The new waitress, Mary, knowing that I was into spiritual studies had a story and a question for me. She told me how she had been out of work and down to her last $43. She was driving to a job interview and on the way saw a woman holding a baby and a sign that said, Baby needs Dr. please help. Being soft-hearted, she pulled over to the woman and reached into her purse and handed her $3. As she drove away, in the rear view mirror, she could see the woman clasping her hands and shouting, Thank you, thank you, thank the Lord.

She thought, Wow, a lousy $3 makes her so happy, and she felt good about having given it to her even though her funds were low. When she arrived at her interview, she looked in her purse and found that she had given the woman two twenties and a one instead of three ones. She now had $2 to her name. She was kicking herself and couldn't believe she had given away her last money. The next day she got the job at Enchanted Garden. She asked what I thought about all that.

I told her not to be upset about the money, that perhaps that woman needed exactly that amount for the doctor and that she may have been praying for it. Mary may have been the instrument to answer her prayer and change her belief about prayers being answered and about life in general. She said that was a good way to look at it. That being said, I headed for the ladies room.

While in the ladies room, my guides said to me, Give her back the money. I protested that I did not get paid for two more days and I wasn't even sure if I had that much in my bank account. They insisted, so I wrote a check for $50 and wrote prosperity through generosity at the bottom. I asked the other waitress to give it to her after I left so she wouldn't refuse it and wouldn't be embarrassed.

But that started me thinking about my checking account, so I went to balance it and see if all my checks were in and how much money I actually had left. I did not want my gesture to be negated by a bounced check. When I did that, I found that I had an extra $500 that could not be accounted for anywhere in my deposits, and all the checks had cleared the account. Suddenly I had 10 times what I had just given away. I felt it was a major sign for me. And that was a huge lesson, but the biggest lesson was yet to come.

A month later I received a letter from Mary. She said, I don't know if you remember me, but I just wanted to tell you that I never cashed your check for $50. Money started to come to me from all directions. I framed the check and put it on my wall, and whenever anyone comes into my home, I tell them the story of your generosity.

I choked up and cried. I still can't tell that story without
getting misty. And I got the message to think about how many people were being affected by that simple gesture while following my guidance. I will never know exactly how many people were moved by that story, but it was a very powerful lesson for me, and a much better reward than the $500. The small random acts of kindness that we do ripple out into the world and create all kinds of abundance, and it comes back from all directions.

Ever since that day, when I give a tip, pay my bills or receive money of any sort, I hold the money in my hands (and the hands of the giver and receiver whenever possible) and say this… Divine Love through me blesses and multiplies all the good I am and have, all the good I give and receive, Bless the gift, the giver and the receiver. Bless and multiply and multiply and multiply.

After telling that story at a class, one of my students tried it and was amazed at what happened. She stopped to buy a sandwich from a charity fund raiser. They were complaining that business was slow because of rain. When she paid them, she said the blessing out loud so they could hear her. They thanked her, and immediately three cars drove up and placed large orders for food. They looked at her and said, You did that. She smiled and continued her day, knowing that however it happened, that something had happened. It became a mystical experience for all concerned. She felt great and continues to do this all the time now!

Sandy Penny has been a writer, teacher and spiritual seeker for the last 35 years this lifetime. She currently writes a healing arts section called the Butterfly for the Horse Fly monthly in Taos, NM. Read her work on WritingMuse.com and WritingMuse.Blogspot.com.

The post The Forgotten Path to Abundance – Spiritual Story By Sandy Penny appeared first on Spiritual Growth Events.

Several times I tried to leave Taos, but the Taos Mountain had decided I was staying, and the weather cooperated with the mountain to keep me here. At the end of March, I took a little jaunt up to Valley View in Colorado, having always wanted to be at the hot springs when it was snowing. It was a lovely place to work on my angel book. After a few days, the weather seemed to be worsening, with five or six inches of snow on the roof of my car every morning, so I decided it was time to go south.

I intended to go down to Albuquerque and re-evaluate staying in Taos. I just really was not used to the cold weather and the snow after 35 years in Houston. As I headed down 285 south, a huge black raven-like cloud appeared in the distance, flying directly toward me. It was kind of mesmerizing. It seemed as if it touched the ground and flew back into the air. I suddenly feared there was a tornado in that cloud formation, and recorded a quick message to my kids about how much I loved them, just in case.

As I headed toward the giant raven cloud, it headed toward me, and suddenly I was under it, and although there was no tornado, the snow surrounded me and whitened my entire existence as if I had died and was in the midst of the clouds before the light appears. I could no longer see the road, and I could barely distinguish where the side of the road dropped off. A mightly wind hurled me across the road, and when I tried to steer into it, relented and I skidded perilously toward the drop-off. I quickly corrected and slowed down even more. It was the closest thing to a blizzard I had ever seen.

I was alone. I slowly dialed the radio and found only scratchy blankness. I set the automatic search and forgot about trying to get a station. I flipped open my cell phone. Nothing there either. I was deeply alone and did not know what I should do in this case. I could not pull over because I could not tell where the drop-offs were, and I was afraid my car would run out of gas while I ran the heater, and I would be found frozen in a hill of snow. So I inched my way forward at about five miles per hour. I could not see what lay ahead of me, and I prayed no one was stalled on the road because I could not have stopped by the time I saw them. I just kept moving forward even though I had no idea where I was headed.

After hours of inching toward my impossible destination and battling with bouts of wind, I had not made much headway, and my only company was an occasional raven clinging to a fence post or walking along the ground, their ominous blackness directly contrasting with the pure white surroundings. I was so scared that I began to cry and plead with whatever power there is to help me get somewhere safe. The silence was truly deafening. I recorded a few more goodbyes on my digital recorder. Finally, the radio blared, and I was blessed by the sound of a human voice. The announcer read off the road closings, and the road I was on, in my little red Mazda Protege, was closed to all but those with chains. I barely had decent tires. Oh well, how could I have known, with no radio and no cell phone?

For the life of me, I couldn't figure out what to do. I knew the altitude before I got to Espanola was higher than where I was now, and likely more snowy and frozen. At long last, I saw a turnoff. I was at Tres Piedres, the point where they were telling people not to continue south. The only turnoff was left and it headed directly to Taos. I wondered if I could even make it there as the road was deep with snow. The radio announcer said 32 inches had fallen in the last few hours. Wow, what was I doing out here?

I noted a few tire tracks heading toward Taos on Hwy 64, so I ventured forward. I knew my friend Madeline would let me stay at her house again. I at least had shelter there. I drove in the tracks of trucks that had gone before me and safely crossed the slippery Rio Grande Gorge bridge. I knew I could probably make it the rest of the way into town, and my mood lightened a bit. After OBL, the old blinking light, I picked up cell phone reception again and called Madeline. When she answered, the stress finally let go and I blubbered my plight to her. Although she was currently in Houston, she called her realtor who delivered a key to me while I enjoyed a very belated breakfast burrito smothered in Christmas chile, red and green mixed, at Michael's Kitchen and told my story to a few strangers who had also just completed their harrowing drives. Coffee sure does taste good when you come in from the cold.

After that, I stopped struggling to leave and just accepted my fate. Like many others, the Taos Mountain had claimed me for its own. I had no choice; I might as well enjoy the view.

Sandy Penny has been a writer, teacher and spiritual seeker for the last 35 years this lifetime. She currently writes a healing arts section called the Butterfly for the Horse Fly monthly in Taos, NM. Read her work on WritingMuse.com

The post Taos Writer Lost in Blizzard – A Spiritual Healing Story by Sandy Penny appeared first on Spiritual Growth Events.

The chant changed to I am the light, I am the love and then swelled around me with The fire and I are one, and I thought about how I came to be standing here on the edge of eternity, a 42-year old woman, questioning the very nature of reality.

It was only a few weeks ago as I entered the Chapel of Prayer with fifty or so people to listen to a Hindu Guru tell traditional Indian parables, that I met Charmaine McGhie and Tore Fossum. We were seated next to each other and connected so quickly that they invited me to a New Year's Eve Party and Firewalk.

I was intrigued. I had seen firewalking on TV and read about it in National Geographics, but never had I witnessed it in person. Meanwhile, they gave me a book called Firewalk by Jonathon Seinfeld which I read with interest. It talked about firewalking as an empowerment tool and a subcultural movement in the U.S. since the 1970s. The U.S. has more firewalkers than the rest of the world put together. I couldn't believe it! How could I have missed it? I had done every new age experience I had run into. How could such a phenomenon have slipped by me? My excitement grew as the days passed.

The book helped keep me occupied and gave me a lot to think about. It told stories of firewalking in every culture. It quoted scriptures about firewalking and discussed the unsatisfactory research that has been done. I was primed for the experience – to watch the experience, at least.

I arrived early at the suburban house in a nice Friendswood Texas neighborhood. Not really where you'd expect to see a firewalk. The preparations looked like any other New Year's Eve party. Guests arrived with covered dishes, and someone played piano – 50s hits to sing along with. Not even any alcohol present.

At about 9:00 p.m. everyone gathered in the back yard. A cool front was moving through, and the air was cooling down. The grass was soaked with a hose as a safety precaution, and the evening began.

We each took turns carrying logs to build the fire. We were instructed to think of the logs like children, and focus loving attention on them. A firewalk instructor took the logs from us and built an impressive boy scout style teepee-shaped structure which would become a large bonfire using about a half cord of wood. We took turns stuffing newspaper in the cracks, and the fire was lit with great ceremony. A blaze reached skyward as a word of thanks and protection was intoned by a lady wearing a long full skirt. Surely that skirt was not a good thing to walk on fire in. When the fire was blazing violet and gold, we went to the patio to try out some other phenomenal activities. It would be two to three hours before the coals were ready.

Someone asked if we wanted to play the rebar game and a chorus of assent rang out. I had no idea what that meant. Rebars are 3/4 x 6′ steel reinforcement bars used to reinforce concrete. Two people stand face to face six feet apart and a rebar is suspended between them by placing the tip of the metal rod in the hollow of the throat. The two people are told to focus their energy and see the rod bending. When they feel focused, the walk toward each other. The rod could either pierce your throat, cut off your breathing, or it could bend. All of them bent. There were no tracheotomies. It is impossible to use force to bend the rod in this position as it causes tremendous pain. I know that through experience. But when focusing properly the rod just sort of melts, and you are suddenly catching your partner in your arms as you fall toward each other. Yes, I did it!

Next, we broke boards like so many karate experts. Only we weren't. One inch thick by twenty-four inches wide pine boards set on bricks. When focused, the board almost breaks itself. That was a tremendous energy rush for me. I didn't know I could do that.

Finally, the coals were ready. We returned to the back yard. The fire was so hot, it was difficult to stand close to it for more than a few minutes. The coals were raked out smooth, and the temperature was measured at 1200 degrees. How could we hope to walk on this? It was too preposterous. I was glad I'd only come to watch.

We circled the fire pit and chanted. No one wanted to be first. I wondered if anyone would find the courage. Suddenly Charmaine was at the top of the pit quietly chanting and focusing on the far end of the coals. Then it happened. She stepped onto the coals and kept walking, slowly, not rushing, the full twelve feet. As she stepped off, a cheer went up, and she went around and repeated it. She was followed by Tore and another, and another. A line of people followed, and no injuries. The lady in the long, full skirt walked eight times, and the fabric did not catch fire. Everyone had walked, except me and one other person. I had only come to watch anyway.

Some people walked slow, some people ran, some people danced. One person cartwheeled through the coals, and then he did the most amazing thing. He stepped onto the coals and stood there in one place, reached down and lifted up a handful of coals and threw them into the air. Then he quietly walked off the fire pit – unharmed.

This went on for a couple of hours. It was like a dream. My mind had no place to file this scene. Could I do it too? Did I have enough faith and concentration? I didn't know. I did not feel afraid. But I also did not feel compelled to walk. Even so, I had removed my shoes and socks. Was that significant?

Then a voice was calling out last call It's time to go in and dance. Charmaine stepped up to the pit again, and this time I stepped out beside her and took her hand. We looked briefly at each other. She squeezed my hand, and I began to walk. We moved together, not too fast, casually.

The coals crunched under my feet, and I was about to step off the pit, already at the other end. I did it! I had actually walked on 1200 degree coals, and my feet were intact – not even a blister. Now everyone was cheering for ME! I knew I was about to begin rethinking reality. There was no other choice.

Sandy Penny has been a writer, teacher and spiritual seeker for the last 35 years this lifetime. She currently writes a healing arts section called the Butterfly for the Horse Fly monthly in Taos, NM. Read her work on WritingMuse.com

The post A Leap of Faith – Spiritual Story about Firewalking by Sandy Penny appeared first on Spiritual Growth Events.