Year: 2025

My Not So Great Experience With Santeria As A Child

Mike (The Geek With Muscles)Leave a comment

*** This article contains some very triggering examples of personal experiences I had, particularly with the abuse of animals… please proceed with caution.  This article originally appeared on the social media platform I created, digitalsoulspace.org.

I want to preface this story by saying my experience is an extreme example of Santeria and as with any religion or spiritual practice, there is a huge spectrum of what is considered the norm.  There are many that practice this religion in a way that is more in alignment with its African roots, that is not cult like or fueled by fear, or that is not associated with drug trafficking or smuggling. This was my personal journey and is not meant to disrespect the practice or religion of Santeria in any way… it is however what happened to me as a child, and my truth and story to share. I also know that offerings to deities come in many forms, and it’s my personal belief that you can have a successful spiritual practice without harming people and animals… physically or emotionally.

My story begins as young child around the age of seven, when my sister approached me one day and asked if I knew that we had a “little man” living in my mom’s desk.  Always excited about magic and the fantastical (probably more than the average kid), I was eager to learn more about what my sister was describing.  She showed me to my mom’s early American styled desk and as we sat on the floor, my sister opened a wooden door revealing a small stone round statue.  I was a little disappointed at first because it wasn’t what I had pictured in my head… I was fully prepared to see an elf or fairy but instead, there was something that looked like it was a stone sculpture of a grapefruit cut in half with eyes and a mouth made of shells.  As if telling me a special secret my sister whispered “His name is Elegúa.”

I still remember when my mom purchased a OUIJA Board and her and my aunt were huddled over it in complete amazement, as if they were two closeted witches belonging to some secret coven.  

There is a very old religion that originated in West Africa called Yoruba.   This religion has multiple gods and goddesses called Orishas that oversee different parts of the Earth and people’s emotions and behaviors.   Like in many religions, some of the Orishas represent different archetypes and people find they are drawn or connected to them for their attributes.  During the African Slave Trade, this religion found its way to the Caribbean, especially to the Island of Cuba which was a stopping point before reaching North America.  Similar to Pagan practices, the religion was eventually hybridized into the dominant practice of Catholicism… Santeria is that hybridized version.  Since many Cubans fled their island nation when Fidel Castro came into power, they brought Santeria with them to South Florida where many decided to settle.   Miami’s close proximity to Cuba also made it an ideal location in case communism fell and the exile community felt it could return quickly and safely back home. 

In the 1980’s Miami became well known just about everywhere for the massive amount of cocaine flowing into the United States.  It was known as the Gateway to Latin America, and that meant it was also an easy “in” for illicit drugs produced in places like Columbia.  Miami’s obsession with cocaine and extravagance was on full display in movies like Scarface and television shows like Miami Vice… almost to the extent it was just normalized as part of life in this tropical paradise.   It held a particular attraction for one person specifically, someone who was formerly working on the Apollo Space Program and also a pilot, someone who had just failed in launching their own seafood company in Costa Rica and needed a way to escape the embarrassment of a failed business and a criminal arrest in his native country… that someone was my father. 

I grew up in a paranormal household.  The reading materiel in my mother’s bathroom was usually comprised of a Sears Catalogue, a JC Penny Catalogue, and a variety of books by authors like Hans Holzer and Sylvia Brown.  There were books about ghosts and ancient civilizations everywhere in my mom’s collection,  in addition to way too many romance novels which I later discovered have some pretty graphic descriptions of “romance.”    I still remember when my mom purchased a OUIJA Board and her and my aunt were huddled over it in complete amazement, as if they were two closeted witches belonging to some secret coven.   To put it mildly, the paranormal in my home while growing up was actually pretty normal.  It would make perfect sense looking back that my father would be so inclined would gravitate to Santeria so easily. 

My father decided to open an air chartering service with three small aircraft to fly people around the Caribbean and such, sometimes even to places like Orlando or the Palm Beaches. The airplanes were small, like four or six seaters, but they were comfy and very cool to play in as a young kid when they would let us inside.  The planes were also perfect for someone that had the knowledge to build things like inertial guidance systems for missiles and Saturn Rockets, someone that was interested in using that knowledge to smuggle cocaine.   You guessed it… my father.   I don’t know if I’ll ever know the exact reason why he thought drug smuggling would be a good choice, I can remember the conversations where he told us how bad they were and to stay away from them.  Yet the drug business and his engineering knowledge bought us a large home, with 2.5 acres and a tennis court in a Miami neighborhood known as Horse Country… or “Dope Country” as it was referred to by the locals.

Having such a collection of Orishas or “Saints” as they are called, in a well secluded neighborhood like Horse Country, also meant being a Santeria hub for events like Tambors… celebratory drumming ceremonies to invite the Orishas to show up, often in the form of ritual possession.   

Turns out that Santeria and Cocaine smuggling went hand in hand for many, since one of the Orishas’s job was protection against the law.   Ochosi was often displayed symbolically on a white dinner plate, a medium sized iron bow and arrow laying in a pool of water, often with some chicken blood mixed in.    The little man we had tucked away in a beautiful wooden desk, would eventually become part of a huge walk in closet and eventually years later, an entire room of my father’s home with many many vases, statues, tureens and other stone pottery “little men”, all representing different Orishas in Santeria.  Some of these statues looked like Catholic Saints which represented the Yoruba equivalent of the archetype.  Having such a collection of Orishas or “Saints” as they are called, in a well secluded neighborhood like Horse Country, also meant being a Santeria hub for events like Tambors… celebratory drumming ceremonies to invite the Orishas to show up, often in the form of ritual possession.   

Most of the Santeria didn’t phase me as child.   I would wear beads around my neck in different color combinations that represented different Orishas.   I was evaluated by high priests and priestesses known as Padrinas or Padrinos respectively, whom would then tell us what Orishas were interested in working with me.   The first was Elegua, the mischievous child like Orisha, but then came a being that remains special to me until this very day… Yemaya, the Goddess of the Sea.  It took my many years of therapy and shadow work to accept her back into my life, however she was truly the first deity I felt so close to, even placing a picture of her above my bed at such a young age.   I actually saw her once while she was in my thoughts, her figure and blue dress approached, her imaged blurred through the frosted shower door.  Eventually the day came when I would see a side of Santeria that would haunt me to this day, witnessing the ritual sacrifice of animals in the most horrific of ways.  Goats, chickens, ducks, pigeons… all sacrificed in front of me during ceremonies and “cleanings.”

I remember on one happy weekend seeing all these animals coming to my house and I was so incredibly thrilled. I thought we were going to start a farm and I was going to have all these amazing animals as my pets. As the day would progress I would learn the fate of these animals through the sacrifices I would witness, their blood being poured over symbolic representations of Orishas while people danced and cheered to beat of the loud drums. I can’t describe enough the immense duality of this situation, the joy people experienced combined with the loud screams and visible pain these animals were experiencing. It something that while writing this article haunts me greatly, and I am sobbing at this very moment. I love animals with all my heart, and to see what I was thinking would be my pet tortured in front of me, was an absolutely heart wrenching and horrific experience… especially for a child that was only in the second grade. My inner child and present adult form mourns this period of my life as being one of the most catastrophic events of my personal development. On one occasion a left over rooster wasn’t utilized, a it actually did become one of my most cherished pets… I would name him Pinta.

Although animal sacrifice was incredibly difficult to witness, there were other aspects of Santeria that I would find almost as frightening.   Watching ritualized possession is a very weird thing… feeling the temperature in the room drop as our Padrino was overcome by Spirit, sometimes spending hours drinking rum and smoking cigars (a common offering) while speaking and prophesying to others.   On one occasion as my Padrino Jerry was about to regain control of his body and as Spirit left him, he jerked with such force that his body flew to the ground, hitting his head on the corner of a table on the way down.   He experienced no pain or sign of injury, everyone was in awe.   The temperature in the room fell so much, one of my brothers had to leave the house as he was troubled by what he was seeing and feeling.  It was just one of many experiences that I will remember from this very troublesome time in my life, and it’s no wonder that my own channeling abilities as an adult are withheld from public view.

There was absolutely no money and barely any assistance from our family.   Our lights were turned off, there was no running water, and there were at times no food.  I was the one that opened the front door one morning to receive the eviction notice on our home, and that we had five days to vacate the property.

There are many rules to Santeria, and one of the ones that sticks out the most is when you are commanded to make Saint. This process begins with a reading from your Padrino or Padrina  where an Orisha comes forth to claim you as their own.  The process is validated by a huge necklace of thick bead-work that probably weighs several pounds, which is thrown towards you from across the room.   Should it land around your neck without you even knowing it’s coming your way, that seals the deal… you have been “lit.”   This is considered a deep honor, one involving a week long process starting with your head being shaved in the Miami River naked, lots of celebrations, a throne you must sit and sleep under for the entire week while friends and family visit to congratulate you, and is finalized by an hours long life-story reading called an “Ita.”  Should you turn down this invitation, you are certain to be met with an untimely death.   In fact everyone knows someone that suddenly died because of this, it’s where the cult aspect of this religion comes into play… either do what we say or else.  Making Saint is also very expensive, my mom sold her new car to come up with the $16k to do it… my brother and father also went through the process.

Eventually Santeria took center stage in our lives as my father’s drug smuggling business grew until one day it all came to a crashing end.   It was February 18th 1981, and my mom and our newly married brother took us to our favorite hangout, the Dadeland Mall.   My father was having an important business meeting at our large beautiful home, and he didn’t want us around.  As we returned from a wonderful day at the mall, the large semi-circle driveway was filled with cars, some of them with police logos and large lettering on the side.   One of them being a very large van which I assume was to carry large amounts of prisoners.   My brother punched on the gas as our car sped away, and it was at that moment I discovered as a kid in the fourth grade, my father was a drug smuggler.  I couldn’t wrap my head around it… I didn’t know what to think…  I couldn’t comprehend what my life would be like from that day forward.   We were whisked away to family friend’s house, where they tried to squelch the massive amounts of anxiety I would feel that evening.

We returned home very late that night, I remembered my sister and I were so worried about our little cocker spaniel “Boy” and if he was safe.   We found all the lights on, furniture cushions overturned, sliding doors opened, and a pool of human blood and medical supplies in my parent’s bedroom… a stain that never lifted from the carpeting.  Boy came rushing into the home with great joy to greet us, he was running about the opened yard and thankfully wasn’t hit by a car.   It was all such a crazy feeling, like coming home after an evacuation of sorts.  Turns out one of my dad’s “friends” refused to lay face down when instructed to so by the drug agents, so they just shot him in the arm.  My entire life had turned upside down in the blink of an eye, a memory that will last with me forever. It wasn’t until my awakening that I would discover something very special and purposeful about this night though, and it would bring me amazing comfort and healing.

I realized that the horrific events of February 18th wasn’t what it seemed, it wasn’t the day my life fell apart… it was the day that Spirit saved my family from my father.   It was the day that Spirit said “We are removing this man from your life so you can be safe and you can heal…”  It was a rescue mission of sorts.

As the months went on there was lots of time spent with my mom running to attorneys and going to hearings.   My father was eventually sentenced to five years in jail in a federal facility that wasn’t too far from our home.  There would soon be be Christmas Day spent in prison visiting Dad and almost every weekend.   He would eventually request to be transferred to Kentucky without telling us to avoid this constant acknowledgement of his confinement.  There was absolutely no money and barely any assistance from our family.   Our lights were turned off, there was no running water, and there were at times no food.  I was the one that opened the front door one morning to receive the eviction notice on our home, and that we had five days to vacate the property.  When a family friend stepped in to save our home and gave us the money to pay it off, my uncle stole it for his gambling habits and took much of my mother’s family on a family vacation to Yugoslavia and Hawaii.  It seemed like everywhere we looked people were trying to take and steal what was left of our lives.

It was a really shitty time to be me in my life… all I had was myself and my faith.  My father was in jail and my mom sat in her room all day with an endless supply of Valium, thanks to the family doctor and the age of sedatives.  Something really strange began to happen in my life though, I began to seek out spirituality as a practice and develop my own faith.  At the age of ten, to the horror of my family, I ripped off the steel chain around my right ankle that was supposed to provide protection and decided it wasn’t for me.   Looking back, it was my way of saying “this doesn’t resonate with me, I need to do my own thing.”  My family followed suit (except my father) and we suddenly found ourselves exiting the cult like experience of this often misunderstood and often twisted for profit religion.   As I already expressed, this was my personal experience and there are many that have a very different, and almost shamanic style experience with this practice.   There are extreme versions of everything in this world, and this was the one we ended up with.

I would look back at this entire experience as kind of marker in my life,  I would constantly evaluate my position in my life in comparison to the amount of years it was since my dad was arrested.  Everything good that I experienced was a little step in right direction… getting off of welfare and food stamps, going to college, getting a decent job, it was always connected to the distance from that one calendar date in my head.  Then one day, not long after my awakening, I had an amazing download while driving home from work.  I realized that the horrific events of February 18th wasn’t what it seemed, it wasn’t the day my life fell apart… it was the day that Spirit saved my family from my father.   It was the day that Spirit said “We are removing this man from your life so you can be safe and you can heal…”  It was a rescue mission of sorts… Spirit was stepping in and taking control in a huge way, less we might have experienced something even worse.   That awareness and change in perspective was so incredibly healing, it allowed me to accept the true nature of energy of the Orisha Yemaya back into my life, where she is acknowledged and thanked every time I step into the ocean.

When my dad got out of prison five years later, it came with its own share of problems, abuse, more drugs… and that’s a completely different story to write.   However, I wasn’t the same person I was when he left at the age of ten… I was now growing into adulthood and was exploring my own interests in religion and spirituality.   I had a new set of tools and I continue to use them to this day… perspective being an extremely useful and powerful one, and I’m looking forward to my friends Gary and Neha’s new upcoming book about this truly transformative realization.  Perspective is everything in life and it helped me heal from incredible trauma, and it continues to do so today more than ever.  Looking back at my life and seeing where I am today is a really stark contrast, and I hope my experiences can help anyone that’s in a dark place right now to know there is always hope and light when you choose to look for it.    If anything positive comes of this entire experience, I hope that it will also be with your realization that it gets better… it truly does.

I want to extend an amazing and heart felt thank you to Rachael Staples who’s channeled message told me what I already knew I needed to do… write. All this pent up frustration I have been feeling was because my story needed to be told, I needed to bring it to the light. I am a bad ass… I have survived and I continue to do so every day I am alive. Thanks for being a part of this amazing journey, I am just getting started.

To learn more about transformative healing and Gary and Neha’s new book about the power of perspective, visit Higher Dimensional Guidance And Healing.

Cassadaga Spiritualist Camp

Mike (The Geek With Muscles)1 Comment

There’s a small town in Central Florida called Cassadaga and within it, is a Spiritualist camp which was founded over one hundreds years ago,   It’s well known as a neighborhood filled with witches, psychics and mediums… it’s been on my bucket list of places to visit.   The day after Christmas, my partner Anthony and I set out to explore this supposedly magical and mysterious place!

Cassadaga is about 35 miles North of Orlando, which includes passing through some amazing wildlife areas and stretches of slash pine forest that border cypress swamps and large encroaching oaks.  Thick moss hangs from the trees, and the roadsides are dotted with signs warning of deer and bear crossing.  When we left the sky was mostly filled with clouds with the sun occasionally peeking through, giving the landscape a lonely and almost “spooky” feeling… which of course added to the experience of visiting a remote psychic town.   From almost the time we left we started seeing signs… the navigational system said we would be arriving at exactly 2:22 (which actually occurred) and I saw my first horizontal rainbow, which my friend AnnMarie revealed was called a “Sun Dog”

As we got closer to our destination, I became aware of the lack of diversity in this part of the state and that was troublesome for me.   I am old enough to remember being kicked out of a hotel for checking in with another man, and so these visual cues of no longer being in a major city, filled with almost every kind of person, made me feel uneasy.  I even asked Anthony to stop holding my hand in the car since the men driving in oversized pickup trucks could easily see us…  Florida is still very much a part of the “Deep South.”

When we finally arrived at Cassadaga I was super excited to see this community that has remained largely unchanged since the late 1800’s.  The homes make you feel like you’re stepping back in time, and some are in disrepair… the town definitely has a mystical vibe about it.   Some of the street signs use descriptions like Mediumship Way and it definitely felt like we were in the right place!  A posed skeleton dressed in Christmas attire on a front lawn seemed to validate the entire vibe.  As time went by though, this feeling would start to change into something rather unpleasant and left us wondering if we made the right choice to visit here.    

The Hotel Cassadaga had a very cool haunted house sorta vibe, complete with creaky wooden floors and lots of beautiful ornate wooden furniture covered in lavish cushions.   We were super excited to find the front desk, which is actually inside of a metaphysical gift shop.  This is actually where things started to decline… the people weren’t welcoming and we felt like outsiders.   I wouldn’t have been surprised if the ladies behind the front desk would have said something like “We don’t get many visitors in these parts…” Yet Cassadaga is a popular attraction, so I was caught off guard with this energy.  It just didn’t feel right and as she explained where we could get readings, I just felt so awkward and not “trusted.”

After we got our keys, we headed to our room down a long narrow hallway as the floors continued to creak and moan. I love this kind of sound so my initial reaction was very positive.   Our room had this super interesting energy and had a sink outside the actual bathroom, which was an empty room with just a toilet and a shower.   There wasn’t a TV which is totally fine and lent to the atmosphere, however we quickly found out that there’s not much to do in this very quiet town.   I almost got trapped in the bathroom as the doorknob was almost completely detached and our private entrance took us like five minutes to open… it was completely stuck from the intense Florida humidity.   We decided to walk around the tiny town and explore a bit before dinner.

 I felt increasingly unsafe and paranoid as we walked around, and I was terrified that someone would call the police about some Latino men lurking around town. 

There’s lots of very small parks in Cassadaga, some of which are no bigger than a living room.   They all have a posted sign that has like 12 rules saying the park is closed at Sunset and you’ll be prosecuted, etc.   This seems like complete overkill when you’re talking about an area so small, you can literally just walk 20 feet and be back on the sidewalk.   I seemed to be noticing lots of signs in Cassadaga that tell you what you can’t do… I just felt like I was being watched constantly, like the entire town was talking about the two guys that just arrived.   Yes, I was totally paranoid for some reason… however Anthony confirmed with me later he was also feeling unwelcome. 

One of the parks was called “Fairy Way” and it gave the first impression that it was a forested trail with the occasional house or offering along the way.   When we arrived at the trail it quickly became evident that what some considered honoring the Fae, was downright pollution to me.  I started to tell Anthony that you don’t honor the Fae by littering the woods with plastic and tiny keepsakes everywhere, you should become a steward of the land instead.   It was so disappointing and I started to get the feeling these people didn’t know what it was really like to honor the Fae… the feelings of disconnect just started to increase.

After our walk it was time to grab some food and we headed to the restaurant located next to the lobby of the hotel.  “Sinatras” was laid out really nice and we decided to sit at one of the two bars.   There was an elderly man at the end of the row of stools wearing a baseball cap, and he just stared at Anthony and I.   His energy was absolutely horrible and he reminded me of those horror films where there’s this quiet older man that just sits in a corner at a diner or a gas station, and you know there’s people buried in his basement.   Our dinner was good and the bartender was courteous, but there’s nothing really spiritual about this place that’s located in the this ghostly town.   This man’s energy was so bothering me and I was grateful when a lady started chatting with him.    I caught part of the conversation and she was trying to say that a person’s belief system was personal, and that you can’t think everyone is going against the Bible.   It was then that he said “There’s some that believe messing with little boys is okay… and it’s not now is it?”  When the lady replied with “That’s completely different..” he responded with a chuckle and said “It’s exactly the same!”  I couldn’t wait to get out of there.    

We decided to walk around the town once again and it was now dark.   There are no street lights in Cassadaga and everything starts to close really early… it was only like seven!  As we walked down the street we saw some people outside a store and they didn’t even acknowledge us… otherwise the entire place felt completely abandoned.   I felt increasingly unsafe and paranoid as we walked around, and I was terrified that someone would call the police about some Latino men lurking around town.   I had felt this kind of feeling  in a small Florida town decades before, and I often forget that I don’t look anything like the locals.  Anthony and I walked back to our room and I started reading reviews of the hotel which just made things worse.  Anthony told me he didn’t have a problem leaving early, but let’s see what the next day would be like since we had multiple readings scheduled. When we finally decided to get some sleep, I had weird dreams the entire night.   

The cemetery was yet another pivotal moment in adjusting my energy for the upcoming day… it was exactly the kind of cemetery you would expect in a small town, complete with crows calling and the sounds of hawks in flight.

The next day was cold and dreary, there was a misty kind of rain everywhere and Anthony and I decided to take a short drive into town to get some breakfast.   After about 10 minutes it felt like we were in a “normal” city again… strip malls, grocery stores, people of every shape and color… it was feeling like a totally different day.   We went to this breakfast place and it was there that Anthony and I firmly decided to see what the day would bring and that leaving Cassadaga after our readings would totally be okay… just as we had discussed the night before.   That entire conversation seemed to be the start of a very strange shift in our energy.   Only minutes later I would receive a reply from AnnMarie acknowledging my overall initial feelings… she explained to me that “…you needed to experience it for yourself..” and that she didn’t want to get in the way of what this trip might bring. This validation really increased the feeling that our energy was shifting… all of this wasn’t in our imaginations after all.   As Anthony put it, “Well at least we know we’re not going crazy.”

Before heading back to the hotel we decided to stop at a cemetery and view “The Devil’s Chair.”   This was supposed to be a supernatural hotspot and perhaps I would get better results doing EVP recordings and using my various ghost hunting tools on my phone.  I had done some briefly the night before in our room which totally seemed haunted, however it didn’t yield any results whatsoever.   The cemetery was yet another pivotal moment in adjusting my energy for the upcoming day… it was exactly the kind of cemetery you would expect in a small town, complete with crows calling and the sounds of hawks in flight.

The Devil’s Chair is actually a gravesite with a brick feature that allows mourners to take a seat… these are usually called “Mourner’s Chairs.” Legend has it that if you sit in the chair you will summon the Devil and unless you leave an unopened bottle of beer behind, he will follow you home.  It didn’t take long to find this very famous location, complete with beer bottles and symbols… most likely left behind by kids wanting to scare others away.  Apparently local teens use the chair as a kind of right of passage when dared by their friends to sit on it.  

I couldn’t decipher the intention of a symbol prominently drawn in the sand, if it was meant to be anti-Semitic (this part of Florida is notorious for that) or a reference to other spiritual symbols of the same shape.  I decided to exclude it from these photos because I honestly didn’t like the energy associated with it.   I did some EVPs here and used some ghost hunting apps like word generators and capacitive touch responses.   Other than some areas of very high electromagnetic fields, I didn’t get anything significant   The area actually has more of a sacred feeling, and any energy associated the Devil’s Chair has been placed there by humans… not the supernatural.   To put it mildly, it’s just people being stupid above anything else.   The entire outing though really peaked my senses though, and our combined energy continued to shift towards the positive.

After getting back to the small streets of the spiritual camp we decided to stop by a place across the street from the hotel.   A psychic there, Karen Beach, was recommended by our friend Randi and so he headed over to see if we could get a couples reading.   The energy in this small trailer like building was so obviously different than the hotel… it was uplifting and we almost instantly met Karen.   We noted the difference in energy and the staff there cautiously agreed with us… we felt totally welcomed and appreciated!   Karen brought us into her very tiny office with low ceilings that was draped with spiritual cloths and signs, about 10 tarot decks were on her desk.  There should have been a crystal ball there because this place vibing with amazing energy straight out of the Wizard of Oz… but it was absolutely perfect.

I opened my eyes and said “You’re so very connected to the Fae, they just greeted me.”  She smiled so big and did a kind of courtesy and said “Thank you, I am Fae!”

Karen gave us an incredible reading and instantly touched upon so many aspects that we wanted to know about… our upcoming home purchase, our deceased parents… Spirit was just pouring out and she was nailing absolutely everything,   We felt amazing after the reading and we couldn’t wait for the next readings we had scheduled separate from one another.   The trip trip to Cassadaga started to fill with purpose, and our spirits were high.   Everything seemed like it was falling into place,  we both had the feeling that we were meant to be here, even if for this very reading by itself.

When we checked into the gift shop in the hotel for our readings, everyone was different.  Same people, different energy.    Suddenly everyone was kind and accepting, Anthony and I even bought matching Amethyst rings.    We talked about the Devil’s chair and I shared my experience about only feeling the energy that was placed there by people trying to scare themselves,  one of the ladies laughed and said she used to go there as a teen to drink all the beer people left as offerings for the Devil.   I was laughing and just further amazed at how everything had shifted.  What was going on here?   Why all the confusion and horrible feelings the day before?

At 1:30 I had a reading with a total light being named Kellie.   She was dressed like a belly dancer and I instantly felt connected to her.   We went up the creaking wooden stairs to her office, which was door number 13.   While she was doing a sound healing, I saw the Fae in my mind and they greeted me.   I opened my eyes and said “You’re so very connected to the Fae, they just greeted me.”  She smiled so big and did a kind of courtesy and said “Thank you, I am Fae!”  I didn’t even remember that her last name was actually Fae until hours later when Anthony reminded me.  Kellie proceeded to tell me about all the feathers she saw around me and she mentioned birds and then owls.   I freaked out because if you’ve caught my earlier posts, owls have been showing up big time for me the last two weeks.   In fact the day before we found an owl garden along the Fae trail.

The reading continued with just one mind blowing experience after another.   Everything I wanted to know was revealed in the most perfect of ways.   The 45 minutes flew by in an instant, and I felt so amazing and uplifted.     She knew I was a medium and acknowledged my gifts with respect and said she loved reading other higher vibrational people.   She spoke of the owls and what they meant, not surprisingly her words were in total alignment with what everyone here had been saying.    I was collecting knowledge… lots and lots of knowledge.  The best part was she was equally as blown away with the reading and how accurate she was… she said she had a blast reading me and I knowing exactly what that’s like, I totally appreciated it.   She let me know the hotel feels so awkward to so many because of all the energy coming and going and having a vortex so close by.  She acknowledged all my feelings and explained how she even has issues at times. Once again the validation of my feelings felt amazing.  Afterwards  I went downstairs to meet up with Anthony and to see how his reading was.   We took a walk and chatted about it.

Although Anthony’s reading was completely different in nature it resonated with him and he needs additional time to process what came through.   I’ll let him share his discoveries on here when he’s ready to.   Needless to say the day felt absolutely amazing… and then something else happened.   Anthony and I both instantly agreed it was time to quickly pack up and leave, we had received what we needed to out of our journey and there no reason to stay anther minute.   We packed up and checked out early, the ladies at the front desk were super concerned something was wrong.  Anthony simply replied “No, it’s just time to go.”   As we drove away we thanked Cassadaga for the experience and held it in gratitude… it was time to leave and we were happy how everything evolved into the most amazing spiritual experience.  Everything made sense and everything has purpose.  It was like the town itself was saying to me “It’s time to take what you’ve learned and run with it… thanks for stopping by.”