An Angel On My Sofa
There’s been this thing going around on the Inter-webs, about “hosting” five of the archangels in your home. You invite them to kick back with you for five days, before sending them on to visit 3 of your friends. Kind of like a heavenly chain letter. Anyway, all sorts of cool things are supposed to happen, so I figured, what the hell [oops — “heck.” They ARE angels — so a little respect…]
Before they arrive, the house needs to be clean. Makes sense; I mean, if the President were coming to visit, you’d clean the cat hair off the sofa, wouldn’t you? So out came the Swiffer and Scrubbing Bubbles.
Then you set up a makeshift altar with some white flowers, and a candle that will burn the whole time they’re in residence. I opted for one of those battery-powered ones. They look kinda tacky as they “flicker,” but if it keeps my house from going up in flames in the middle of the night, I’ll deal. You write out 3 wishes and put them in an envelope, also set on the altar — and the last touch? An apple, which you eat after they leave. Good thing it’s not a brownie — I would not leave THAT alone for five days.
Then, you wait. At 10:30 PM on the night they’re scheduled to arrive, you light the candle and open your front door to “welcome” Michael, Gabriel, Uriel, Raphael and Metatron. [Is it just me, or does “Metatron” sound like a creature from a Japanese monster movie?] I pictured five very tall angels, tote bags in hand, checking out the digs like some old lady visiting her grandson’s girlfriend for the first time.
It DID feel like something “shifted” in the house. One of the cats ran upstairs, but he does that whenever I open the door. I was suddenly tired and got the definite message, “Go to sleep.” Maybe it was just because it was a little past my bedtime, but I didn’t question it. I fell into a heavy, dreamless sleep.
For the next five days, I didn’t notice anything dramatic. However, there seemed to be a lighter feeling to things. I did get some “insights” out of the blue. I was a wee bit nicer to people. But the squirrels in my yard didn’t start talking to me or anything.
Once it was time for the angels to move on, I thanked them, burned the envelope with my “wishes” to release the energy to the universe, and ate the apple. I was kinda hoping it would give me superpowers — but so far, my attempts at seeing through walls haven’t worked out.
I’m told by others who’ve done this to keep a watchful eye for my wishes coming true, and to be aware of any little synchronicities that may occur in the coming weeks. Fair enough. Who am I to argue with how angels work? I have to admit, it was fun to have a little magical ritual going on; and it was comforting to think I had my own NBA-sized protectors hanging about (and they didn’t even need to be fed). While I partly expected miracles of the Biblical variety to occur, maybe it works on a subtler level. Maybe being aware of the “little magic” that goes on, just out of range of our overloaded senses, is what its all about. So I’m lowering my gaze from the heavens to my own backyard. Thanks for the reminder, angels — and for kicking in beer money for the week.