The Path of a Christian Witch Read Online Free Page A

days, nights, weeks, months cramming information into my tired little brain. It analyzed, memorized, synthesized, calculated . . . all for the glory of science. I realized suddenly how parched I was for something greater than logic and scientific rigor. What about love and spirit and humanity and godliness? How could science have become so divorced from them? Could we ever have knowledge without spirit? Ambition without passion? Yearning without love? Science was so cut and dry, irrefutable, fact-filled. The university was teaching me to shuffle these pieces of knowledge around, rotating them to make them fit into theories and hypotheses. Where was the creativity in all this? Could anyone truly experience genius without reaching within themselves into the divine part of their being?
    I had attended classes in biology, immunology, biochemistry, genetics. Each had focused on the mechanics of things, how we thought things worked. Where was the wonderment about it all? The acclamation of God in his tiniest creations? No one marveled at the complexity and genius of life. They only dissected it down to the smallest part possible so they could put it back together again. But the truth was that no matter how rigorously you studied the building blocks of life, you could never put them back together and behold the flow of life. This was not the prerogative of science. It was the domain of God. Without God, without Spirit, these studies were futile, pointless. I had always felt that something was missing from it all. This book I was holding had reconnected me to the spirit dimension. And all of a sudden I felt comforted. It all didn’t seem so pointless anymore.
    The bookstore became the chapel where I could reconnect with Spirit while trying to survive the tedium of my studies. Whereas classes taught me the “facts,” reading books on spirituality gave me a context, a point. Most others saw the point in the pursuit of research and the furthering of knowledge. But without Spirit, knowledge was just random information. It could never be wisdom. And I wanted no less. Sitting in the bookstore became my lifeline. I needed to connect to something greater than myself, to the essence that manifested itself in these very things I was studying. Without it, my life made no sense.
    I became a bookstore junkie. A world of wonderment had opened up in front of me, and I became addicted to this new way of getting in touch with something higher than myself. I started going to the bookstore every day. I perused the shelves, in search of the lesson of the day. These books were like a million teachers, spanning across time and space, to reach me in my mundane little life. I read texts on African women preachers and on quantum physics and more on angel messengers. One day, a title stood out more than the others: Ask Your Angels . [2] I brought it home with me and delved into it.
    It began with a simple meditation called grounding. This book had grabbed my attention in such a peculiar way that I felt I was meant to really pay attention to what it was saying. I sat on the floor in my room and closed my eyes, breathing deeply and rhythmically. I had never meditated before, and I was amazed at how easily I was able to focus my mind. I followed the steps to the grounding meditation, which is the first step in the angel communication process explained in the book. I let my mind float carefree as I pictured roots going down from my spine and legs into the cool, rich earth.
    Once there, I drew up the sparkling crystals of nourishment the earth had to offer and let them fill every inch of my body. I was parched for this energy, and I drank it in like someone who had just spent years in the desert. As I reveled in this new light, I started pulling it upward to different centers of my body. Each energy center felt different, and without effort I started seeing images and hearing bits of sentences. For the first time in my life I was receiving wisdom that came