A book that's fired me is the one I've just finished, "Countdown to Coherence" by Hazel Courteney.
I say that I've finished it, but that's not strictly accurate. I may have reached the final page, but this is by no means the end. This book is, in itself, a launch-pad . . . a launch-pad to a continuing spiritual journey.
Hazel Courteney takes her reader on an intriguing scientific and spiritual quest, during which she travels worldwide in search of luminaries in the many fields that she investigates. All the interviews are absorbing, much that she covered was totally new to me, but, after my own experience with orbs, it was her enquiry into this phenomenon that particularly captured my attention.
Amongst many other things, I learned that orbs appear eager not only to make contact, but also to respond to our requests for their presence.
This statement made me sit up in my seat . . . it perfectly mirrored my own experiences.
Do you remember what happened at the Tyburn Convent? After repeated photographs had revealed no orbs, I pleaded under my breath for them to show up on the camera . . . and, to my amazed delight, they did.
But let's bring the orb story up-to-date. Last month (two years and over three hundred orb photos later) a friend kindly bought tickets for us to attend the Monteverdi "Vespers" at the Albert Hall. It was to be the penultimate concert of the 2010 Proms season. However, a week before the event, her husband was taken into hospital and she urged me to offer her ticket to someone else. Sadly, I agreed . . . promising that I'd take my camera.
If she couldn't be there, I told her, I would photograph the orbs for her to enjoy afterwards.
It was a rash promise . . . a stupid promise. After making it I could have kicked myself.
How could I possibly guarantee orbs at the Albert Hall? My friend didn't deserve to be disappointed on top of all her anxiety.
But, as you can see, the orbs overlooked my stupidity and collaborated. Whether it was in response to my plea, or to the transcendent beauty of the music, they made an appearance and joined the audience in the final rapturous applause.
Orbs, so Hazel Courteney was told, make themselves apparent on digital cameras in response to the photographer's request. It may be hard to believe, but my experience encourages me to believe that this is true.
Last week I was invited to take Chloe to an Animal Blessing at our local church.
"I wonder if there'll be any orbs?" said Shelagh, a friend who has recently photographed some beautiful orbs in France.
"I'll be far too busy keeping Chloe in check to even think of orbs!" I retorted.
But Chloe was on her very best behaviour and, remembering Shelagh's remark, I turned my camera towards the altar and . . . yes . . . in response to my hopeful plea, there were this beautiful orb.
Relationships never stay the same, they grow and deepen or they diminish. My relationship with orbs has grown from initial amazement and disbelief to a stage of profound gratitude and confidence. A confidence that these incredible, radiant presences (what else can I call them?) will respond. A confidence that they are every bit as much aware of me as I am of them.
I say that, and it is true . . . but, nonetheless, it is impossible to be anything other than deeply moved and incredulous each time an orb appears . . . and, surely, that is how it should be?
Wouldn't you agree that to make contact, albeit momentarily, with an invisible body of consciousness is something beyond words . . . something that I can only call an awesome blessing?
