Tossing out the Devils | Catherine Viel

By Catherine Viel, March 28, 2022

(Golden Age of Gaia)

March 27, 2022

We are the Seven Devils and their kin
Evicted from our Paradise of Sin—
But undismayed, since man has ever been
A doorway with the portals swinging in…
Outcasts we are, but never quite cast out.
~Edmund Vance Cooke, Seven Devils



I’ve always kept track of things, made notes, and revisited the past. I’ve been faithfully keeping a journal since I was seventeen.

As I add to the pile of decades assigned by my birth certificate, I’ve become less inclined to peruse my journals, although in the beginning I read them from Volume One forward every time I completed one. Forty-some years later, it’s impractical to reread much more than the previous day’s entry, if even that.

*****



So…what’s the point? Why do I bother to examine my life in writing when I can’t muster enough interest to occasionally ponder the story? Every once in a while I glance at the bookcase of handwritten volumes and wonder if I’ll ever read those words again, or perhaps write a memoir detailing the lifetime’s worth of discovery and exploration of the soul journey they represent.

I suspect that the essence of those words, scribbled and left in the past like the road unreeling behind a car, is actually present in every word I write now.

There is some alchemy in having created that infuses the alchemy of every new creation.

*****



I’m pondering the wisdom of recording anything at all after participating in an expansive and illuminating session with an animal communicator yesterday. My archivist persona was a tad perturbed that she didn’t advocate recording the session. Taking notes is fine, but she discouraged making a recording.

She had explained that during the session we would be releasing old negative energies from myself and my animal companions, and clearing the way to move forward. When we started the session, she elaborated that, for example, removing the imprint of a negative energy while recording the session would leave a kind of signature or hook by which a negative entity or implant could sneak back in.

Perhaps it would be a bit like pulling a rotten tooth but leaving a speck of the decayed root embedded in the jawbone. Decay calls to decay, entropy pulls more entropy toward it.

Did I really want to toss out the devils and then open the back door and leave the porch light on?

*****



I could say I’ve lost track of the number of healing sessions and psychic readings I’ve had over the last five years, but since I have recordings of many sessions, that’s not the case. And if I have no recording, I have extensive notes.

The funny thing is, I’ve had little, if any, desire to revisit most of those sessions. The recordings sit, perhaps listened to once and then left to languish. Perhaps I’ve been subconsciously nudged to shut the back door and turn the light off. I’ve released whatever was stirred up during those times, letting it go like a bunch of balloons into the sky, allowed to gently pop and dissipate into the stratosphere.

*****



I ponder the spiral-bound handwritten journals on the bookshelf. More than 150 of them. I contemplate the thousands of electronic journal pages residing in my computer.

Are there entities or implants or troublesome little devils lurking in those pages?

Are things I’ve let go of in the past still lingering because I’ve recorded my struggles with them or my vanquishing and release of them?

During many twelve-step alcoholic program meetings, group members recount their addictive histories in detail. These are often sober people who’ve enjoyed years of living free from the bedevilment of alcohol.

Through sharing sobriety stories, not to mention writing fourth-step moral inventories, are program members leaving an etheric hook within themselves for the ol’ demon rum to reattach? It would not appear so, since the twelve-step recovery model has helped millions over the decades. Not everyone gets or stays sober, but an impressive percentage do just that.

*****



I know there must be a balance between recollecting the past to the extent that it benefits us in the present, and dwelling mournfully over previous sorrows and grievous human battles.

I’m not going to reread my journals with the intention of redacting or ripping out pages and ceremonially burning the catalog of sad battles or melancholy triumphs.

Going forward, however, I will be circumspect in whether I record psychic or spiritual cleansing work. I have no wish to re-invite the devils into any part of my being or my surroundings.

And I might consider deleting some of those recordings I’ve been hoarding. Reliable sources aver that the Akash chronicles it all, anyway. I don’t need to keep a second set of books.

I now see those recordings as a glorious swathe of helium balloons, purple and pink, yellow and blue. I hold the strings in my hand. And I can loosen, one by one, those which I no longer need.

A spontaneous deep breath tells me that this action will feel relaxing and peaceful in a profound and sacred way.