The Path of a Christian Witch Read Online Free

fingers like thick smoke. And the Green Light, always around me, shining with a radiance that was out of this world—a color that might be somewhere between a blue and a green, always moving in swirls in the darkness. On that, I would fall asleep.
    That is how I came to understand this phenomenon we call energy. Until you feel it and experience it, it remains an abstract concept that is as flat as the words on a page. And here I was in the most unexpected of places, being reconnected with an old, old part of myself. I remembered the exercises I used to do as a child to see my aura and to leave my body. I remembered moments when I could anticipate what people would say. I remembered vague impressions that I would get, like daydreams, only to find out that the things I had seen had actually happened to people I knew at precisely that time. And there were dreams of battles with the devil and of strange entities whispering my name. I had walked that world and I had felt its power. I had felt at home in that strangeness. So many years later, I realized that the world of men had gotten in the way. I had completely forgotten about that part of myself.
    The Green Light opened a gateway through which I could peek every so often. My senses started to open up a tiny bit. Unexpected feelings often came out of this gate to nudge me out of my perception of the world—through an unexpected letter or the mysterious words of a stranger I’d met on the bus, or from a premonition of things to come, a sudden blinding flash of color, an uncanny dream . . . This repeated rush of excitement filled my days and my nights and made me look for more beauty and adventure. It became an essential, magical part of my life. The more I looked for this magical feeling, the more I found it in everything I touched. It was there in the rustling of the leaves or in a comment on television, in a sudden vision or a song playing on the radio. I realized that what had initially been just a gateway now encompassed my whole world. It came with me everywhere I went. It was a part of me.
    How could I have forgotten? It had come back to me unexpectedly in a dirty old apartment. There it was suddenly back in my life—unbeckoned, given freely. A part of me retrieved with no effort. There was magic in the world once more.
    No , I thought. It had never left . Only my sight was given back to me.
    An Angel in a Bookstore
    A million thoughts and ideas flew through my tired mind as I walked down Mount Royal in Montreal, not one of them related to the upcoming exams that would decide whether or not I would graduate. This was my third and final year in microbiology. I should have been eager and motivated to give it my all, one last time. But I had reached a saturation point. I had nothing left in me to give. Would this year never end? I couldn’t join the rest of the recluses in the library, studying useless facts about protein synthesis in bacteria. It would be time wasted. I needed a break.
    I looked up and found myself in front of the university bookstore. As if moved by an unseen force, I opened the door and climbed the stairs to the second floor. Finally, the sounds and smells of civilization! The slightly dusty smell of books, the coarseness of espresso, the excited chatter as cups clinked in the nearby café . . . I walked down an aisle and grabbed a book at random, hurrying toward an empty armchair by the window. It was only when I got to the chair that I saw what I had picked up. It was a book about extraordinary occurrences of angels in everyday life.
    The busy bookstore and café were hushed to a throbbing murmur as I plunged into the amazing stories of real-life miracles. I read tales of extraordinary rescues, road signs appearing magically to indicate the road to a nearby hospital, chance encounters that changed lives . . . Time stood still. I just could not tear myself away from this book! I felt such relief wash over me. Where was it coming from?
    I had just spent