This is basically a “scouting report” about my ongoing possession by my Love Daemon-Angel.
Maybe I should call him a de-mangler. Either way for now, it’s L.D-A. , for short.
I left another note on his car.
This one was a card with an elephant holding an umbrella whilst a tiny mouse danced on his back. Both seem happy, even though it is said elephants become irrational and freak out from mice scurrying nearby.
The contents of my note were specific but included, ‘please call me tonight at – blankety-blank o’clock’. I wanted to talk. And, “I’m usually sensible… ask my ex-“, and gave him my ex’s name and number.
Call me, he did not. I doubt he called my ex- either.
In a way I felt relief- as in the absence of worrying; but as my feelings of being ‘possessed’ haven’t abated, meaning regular ripples and waves of piss-shiver ecstasy continue in my trunk, abdomen and limbs, down the top of hands and sometimes out my palms, so it is not as if I’m likely to stop trying to make contact either.
Indeed, when a(l)l-one, these sensations can be so distracting I am forced to engage- that is pay attention, instead of pursuing my habitual wants- like researching how melanosomes make tiny metallic shields against the sun- my sort of fun.
I’m pretty sure a “holy man” would say this is ‘e-vil’.
( I would go for an exorcism if he – the actual man gave me his word, “no”, but for that, I’m still waiting.)
(Later an oracle card I threw to my “why didn’t he call me” query, gave me ’baby being lead step by step’. I feel that- as if I’m being lead, sometimes forcibly dragged by a hand, up a learning curve learning about creature ‘intimacy’ which I have not experienced in my puritan life.)
In fact my feelings of possession, which I’ve come to believe is a twin flame integration- with its agony and ecstasy, has over this two years become more steady- not less.
What was a brush or nuzzle, is now a hold. Touching noses, is closer and longer- even breathing the other’s breath. Instead of me needing to ‘do’ something about it-like run away or handle like Portnoy, I can just ‘be’ with it.
Kissing is now more tender than passionate, or then its licking and a bit gargoyl-ish- and not sexy at all. His ‘mouth’ morphs into distorted tongue (no teeth)- with a face fusing like Dalis’ watch, covering and suckling my sternum and guts. Exploring, probing, and cleaning from chin to belly button – like an animal mother cleans and licks her newborn.
Or, I’m in a public place and suddenly get a feeling of intense relief like when circulation is restored after being blocked flowing down my arms and legs- but without the pain of pins and needles and I find myself saying “I love you” again.
Even though the man refuses to call or otherwise contact me, the L.D-A., plays with my hair, caresses my cheek, or gives me a little ‘back rub’ (and bath ‘rub’- as that was the typo) reminding me to relax, soften, and feel the earth under my feet. Still almost every single interaction to date seems slightly different in terms of touch or location.
It is incredible to me how the feeling of “possession” persists despite my best efforts to release it.
You can see my need for healing!
Last week, I even had a real dream about him- this was a first.
In my waking dream, which it was, he was sitting at the head of a long table pouring over some book or papers. I was about to slink by on my way to go out, so as not to ‘disturb’ him, but then ‘realized’ if I really “loved” him, wouldn’t I just go say good bye anyway?
So I did go back and give him a peck. He ignored me, as usual, and I went on outside. But then a little later, in the dream, he gave me a tender kiss that was soft and sweet, even a little mushy.
Resistance remains futile – and my lessons are cumulative. First was patience, then courage, now ease.
Between the pandemic, my divorce after otherwise shedding the rest of my life, and being mad with passion (nobody wants to know when you “hear voices”, let alone an invisible entity that seems palpable!), I was severed from camaraderie. Even my twelve-steppers didn’t and don’t know what to say to me. Furthermore, calling them seems hypocritical since I’m still smoking. So I don’t call anyone.
With door shut (to keep out distraction from my cats which I still love/hate), for months I cocooned myself in my office sitting in a chair surrounded by Kabbalah angel sigils and Hebrew alphabets.
There I wrote essays about issues I’d rather eat glass than discuss aloud, (at least until now).
I lived with silence and birdsong – aside from my alternating crying and maniacal laughing- sometimes both simultaneously. Who knew one could make such noises- including sing in tongues, which I now seem to do readily?! The latter doesn’t fail to lift my spirit.
With my ‘channel’ open with entheogen (cannabis), an early suggestion I received was to gain and practice having more “ease”.
For me, miss perfectionist, this has meant not holding on to left-overs so long, or scraping minutely the bottom of a jar. I wash most pots without always using hot water and piles of soap- using more effort and maybe a few drops instead. I am getting used to having a slightly oily film on my frying pan.
(Needing hot water, is like needing drama- passionate emotional energy flowing from life around oneself. Now, I am learning to soothe instead of distract.)
I’m also learning to let go of a thing sooner. Or if it breaks by my own negligence- not “beat myself up” and take it so painfully.
Such as when I ruined a special double-terminated Vogel- like lemon quartz crystal I’d been otherwise carefully carrying. I “accidentally” left it in my pant’s pocket when it went through the wash. (Normally I check the pockets- twice but in this case my pants were so dirty – from gardening, I tossed them in the laundry directly. )
That night, I ignored the thumping when it fell out during the spin cycle (I didn’t know what was making the noise) and went to bed anyway- letting it bang. While I suspected I ‘d be unhappy with what I found in the morning- and yes, I could have stopped the cycle, something inside said “it’s too late”.
The next morning discovering said crystal, both ends were ground down to slightly rough rounds, though facets remained. My stomach dropped at its destruction.
I could see the crystal’s new form traps light- instead of transmitting it from top to bottom.
But then, until I met my man, I had not shared myself freely with anyone. Since this crystal had been originally ‘programmed’ to be my healing inner child; now it was actually perfect. Isn’t that ironic?
Likewise, a goal might be to not even ‘notice’ these ‘errors’ in my energetic double, which is said to be true of a twin-flame. These mirror selves can do very similar, if not the same, annoying and destructive habits when stressed, fatigue, or anxious.
Witnessing, let alone overlooking entirely someone do your own negative behavior, or one you’re not particularly proud of, can be very discomfiting!
My ex- and I are very similar. When he saw me in his projection, he didn’t fail to criticize.
In the mini-hallway to my office, which connects my living room to a space where six doors open, I hung my Kabbalah Tree of Life (T.O.L.). This I made ~ ten years ago and painted with Holy water for my “measurable and tangible result” which was to be my intention for a 9-months long, (secular) Kabbalah class.
Since I don’t as a habit, “pray” for anything, other than highest and greatest good for all beings,(including me, down to my tip-toes) it was the best I could come up with at the time.
I placed my step stool, the one clients stepped onto both getting on and off my Reiki table, right underneath.
I would stand on this barefoot, and hold the tree as I cried while lying my cheek on Tiphereth. (Somehow this feels very comforting- like having an actual friend. After all it is life-sized.) When visitors came, I veiled it with green silk. (Basically I had a huge shrine in the walkway- creepy, I know.)
Once I almost put laundry on the step (one of the doors leads to stacked washer and dryer) and I got a clear, “No!” do not touch it with, especially dirty, clothing! So henceforth I kept it clear, even though it would have helped with sorting.
After a year, I was ready to put away the stool and move the tree into my office. I let it hang from the hinge pin on the supply closet door stop. Mind you this house is pretty small, so everything is on top of each other.
Whenever I entered the room, It was something I ‘noticed’. It would brush me at the hip when I came or went; getting stuff out of my closet, the door jostled against it. The former was irksome, I hate to be touched, especially when I’m focusing! Maybe part of intimacy is being touchable anyway(?)
Later when I took down my sigils and placed them on the tree where they belonged, the tree became ~ 6’1”. It was then I realized, my T.O.L. was my subconscious wish for a being of love- even though I made it all those years before, when I was married and already in a committed relationship. Then, I named my T.O.L. “Kabbalah Man”.
When I took Kabbalah Man upstairs (to hang off the hinge in my bedroom), my office cleared of his energy and writing shifted to focus more on the Hebrew letters.
Over the same period, other crystals came to be important psychic anchors.
One such is a large cluster with three smoky quartz generators fused at the base. It is about the size of a large pelvic bowl.
When I first saw it on a gem dealer’s table in Sedona, I noticed it had a (fierce) protective cat-like energy. I bought it ostensibly to ‘protect’ my Reiki room. (It wasn’t there when I met my man who later became a L.D-A- I was in someone else’s sanctuary.)
This I placed in my mini-hallway’s alcove, at about waist height.
For months, (I grant you this is weird) I’d fondle it as if it were a set of testicles (it had the same bulge), fantasizing what I might be doing if they were real. The obsession to touch it quit after I placed it in the garden for a new moon cycle and put Quan Yin in its place. Then I hugged her instead. (It was hard to love the other one it was already so low, hence the caresses.)
[I now read that there is a statue in France where tourists go to rub his ‘bulge’ so as to enhance fertility, lol, at least I’m not the only one- https://www.nytimes.com/2022/10/07/style/modern-love-for-good-luck-in-love-rub-the-bronze-bulge.html?smid=url-share%5D
It was quite the setup with Quan Yin on one side and my larger-than-life sized Kabbalah Man across from he- with its whispering bench.
Quan Yin went into my office to a prominent position, but barely noticeable,
The cluster I put at the top of the stairs.
Gone are the large intimidating shrines in my ‘public’ hallway. Now there’s just an amethyst geode, set contently.
So my ‘religiosity’ is simplifying- another sign of improvement -even though the ‘tiger’ crystal is finally in my bedroom on the floor looking up. And where my hands can’t readily touch it.
As I have mentioned, when I first got possessed, my L.D-A. man’s eyes were firmly imprinted (burned) onto my retinas, fovea more precisely.
I tried to replace the image and memory with a “soulmate” drawing made by Master Wang. He is reputedly a seer who sees one’s ‘true love’, (as predicted by one’s astrology chart- probably considering alignments made by personal planets Venus and Mars against the backdrop of Sun, Moon, and Ascendant.)
Turns out the picture generated looks ~90% like my actual man, whose picture can be easily obtained on the internet. Though my ‘projection’ looks a little goofier- almost Gomer Pyle-look of openness with a nice smile and dimples, his eyes have a sharp gaze and brow is somewhat knitted. Oh, and he appears to be barely 30.
I showed the two pictures to my then-dancing (and drinking) partner who agreed side-by-side, the eyes, cheeks, and lips were very similar. Then she added, “he looks just like you too”. (That’s funny, people said that about me and my ex-….)
Initially I pasted the real guy’s picture hidden underneath the projection. But lately, given the persistence of increasing sensation, I just took his picture out and put it up so it faces me when I come in.
I know this is weird, but I may as well get used to seeing those gorgeous brown eyes. Unless he corrects me with a clear decline!
But then, I burned everything.
I recently got the insight, I “don’t have to know” as in when where or how a thing might change. I can trust everything is going to be fine- and a sense of spaciousness fills my back and spine.
As far as very frequent ”I love you” phrases that still come over me, especially from my right side, I no longer feel it as warning or admonition nor need to ask “why”.
Instead I accept it as ~unconditional and say “I love you too” back- usually out aloud (though not in public silly), further conditioning my tympanic membranes’ tensor tympani with new muscle memories. You know, that part of your ear where words can ring creating relentless thoughts of “what did you mean?”, and earworms replay themselves.
So while “e-vil”, not bad.
Lastly, as I was writing his note, my hands got a little shaky- after all I was asking for a date and time to receive a possible rejection or acceptance. While I’d planned on office drive-by, I hadn’t the note. So here I was scrawling on a piece of index card loose in my pocketbook, and scrambling a little in the process.
When I finally finished my note and walked up to put it on the windshield, his car was gone, though it had been parked there just a few moments earlier.
Imagine, we almost saw each other in a direct line of sight, meaning I almost got caught.
Looking down at the card in my hand, I realized I could do better anyway, so went home to rewrite it and bring it back later. Which I did. Then, the car was parked even closer to the office entrance- so now I could easily be caught again.
Mashallah Habibi, may he soon come to me- if that is what is meant to be. Though I’d rather meet him as a pleasant and intentional surprise, than run into him on the street.
So there is progress (in my vivid imagination, not in real life). Though I won’t deny each step of blossoming has entailed some form of actual communication with him, the man, and so far borne no fruit. I imagine if this keeps on, in a couple of years I’ll be even better. Who knows, maybe I’ll be able to work again. But first I have to pass a pee test.
Meanwhile clear or otherwise, I feel like Pandora freed from her box and also super sexual, or at least aroused, most of the time. I need a way to protect myself (and others) from my natural exuding. Without my pot-portal activated, my L.D-A’s energy tends to be constant –like a switch stuck in the “on” position.
Especially on Friday (Venus’s day) when I have a piano lesson, I try to be clear-headed. By late afternoon, I do the best I can to ‘be cool” –even taking cold showers. I’m still triggered playing love songs- and my teacher is manly handsome.
Good thing for masking (and thank goodness he’s married-and he’s both from a Muslim and Christian background with a very lovely wife)!!!
To my prayer(s) for relief and frequent cries of “help” (which I never needed to ask for before)– and for the highest and greatest good for all beings, including me, though a plain “highest good” works too, I got the following visualization for an answer (I shared this in a recent essay).
‘A band of white roses spreads around me as far as I can see. White for ubiquity – understanding the qualities of our flame’s appearance, from another’s perspective, are ~unalterable gifts from G-d.
How others see us, is in terms of their own machinery of perception, and may be quite different from how we see.
Nor can we control which the photons shine from our energy beings- like we can’t (normally) change our skin tone, sex, or age. (So at the very least, treat each other with dignity of due diligence; yet we can’t be responsible for other’s hang-ups.)
Coming in, a band of yellow roses circles me all at casual distance – 4-6 feet, or how far I might stand from another in a business transaction. This reminds me to be wise with resources in direct interactions. Then one must use wits; not everything is heart felt.
Closer still is a band of pink roses includes friends and family.
Innermost is bright red for my lover(s)- those who share my heart’s journey, and from the center is Gold for me- al(l)-one with the One- my Higher Power.’ The usual “green” at the heart chakra, is for the sepals which heal and protect the heart’s whole structure.
I’ve been working with this meditation a lot and finding it useful and relieving. Practice being in a particular color before speaking to another party, reminds of more healthy boundaries.
Maybe you’ll find some part of my story helpful for you too.
(Added note: since writing this, Ganesh has both become outline and with an operculum open to the sky as if looking out and up through his abdomen. Voila, and is now gone.)
 I read on the internet that few critters bother elephants in reality- though they shy from bees. This they do “telepathically” (by hormone release) to warn nearby pachyderms when bees swarm. With listening to a recording of bees swarming, or even a tone of the same frequency, the whole herd turns around- no matter where they are in the thicket- including the ones too far away to hear. (Maybe this is how we should treat those with toxic messages- shun the messenger?)
Elephants get irrational and rampage when man interferes with his mating behavior or he’s protecting little ones. Both cases turn on the same rage hormones – adrenaline and cortisol, just like in us hu(e)-mans.
Also the card was cute, because a big elephant came into my aura ‘field’ a few months ago.
Praying for relief from my “possession”, also got me Ganesha. Or who I imagine might be Ganesha. His big old wrinkled trunk comes and lies on my shoulder- more touch than weight. His four legs are either distantly around me like supporting a canopy overhead, or his back is under my feet. G’s my anchor in the mist.
I don’t need to over-name him. Sometimes I hold on while he walks; other times I ride on top; he uses his trunk to lift me and is careful not to crush. I’ve connected to him several times- now whenever L.D-A. gets active, Ganesha shoes him away.
Oops, there goes my man’s car…tumbling and flattened.. (hopefully not with him in it. That image came when I got mad at his being so stubborn not calling or contacting. It’s all good; but in reality, I have absolutely no control over him/her (Ganesha). (And He/she is androgynous, it turns out.)
 E-vil – out of (my) vil – or changing me from my own standing reflection of self (Vau-Yod- Lamed). Taking me from my personal ‘villa’ of beliefs that surround me like walls and roof -out into chaos and wilderness and place devoid of creation.
 Resistance includes noticing a thing as intrusive, pushing it away (further engaging will with it) – now Psych is in a dopamine game loop. Distraction as another way to put off feelings, implies the presence of resistance- either way I need use my will to change actions. We can also surrender – become open to the sensation and what it brings up.
Ironic that ‘Israel’ in Hebrew, means to strive (apply one’s will) and ‘Islam’, in Arabic, means surrender (relinquish to Higher power). Reconciling those two, sounds like a job for Cheth, to me!
 Luckily I don’t hear his voice – at least not much, though I sometimes see his lips and mouth moving as if talking. He’s on the other side – and I can’t hear him. (Do I want to -is still the question; but so far, so good- I appreciate his patience with our silence.)
 Just the week before I visted Sedona, I’d channeled some huge G-d-form entity which I found very unnerving. Good thing my client was Bahai and believed in One who is Merciful!
 Relief from an obsession can look like many things- including a gain in apathy like one might have after a stroke.