So without getting too overly weird or wordy on this one, the other night I had a visionary spiritual experience.

It was my second instance of this type of experience. For the second time, I felt a benevolent, purely empathetic presence and spoke to an "angel".

Bare with me, I'm not using the word "angel" to make any religious statements. It's likely that if I were to go into detail about my beliefs (or lack thereof) you would find that I'm rather agnostic toward most of the supernatural/spiritual memes that are culturally introduced to all of us, of which many others believe in or want to believe in. I don't strictly believe in angels-- or demons for that matter. I do, however, use such words in an instance like this, when it feels justified as the most accurate, useful word to describe an experience-- such as this a perceptual encounter with a benevolent presence.

Let me describe the form of this angel I encountered on this night: 

The experience begins with a trance state, my hands playing a repeating series of arpeggios on the piano keyboard, seemingly without my conscious influence or intervention. My mind is elsewhere, occupied with geometric visual patterns and flashbacks to past experiences in my life. My hands perpetuate the patterns, with the sounds resonating in my large noise-canceling headphones. This trance-inducing music could hardly be considered melodic, and has only a handful of harmonic changes. Two different "compositions" in this form have been shown to me by the angel, both with a different series of arpeggios but serving the same unconventional musical goals. The music doesn't serve to build harmonic or melodic interest, instead the focal point is the odd chill-inducing effect that the repeated arpeggios produce as the overtone series resonates and clashes over the repeated patterns. I doubt that I could appreciate this and enter a trance from this type of music if it were played through ordinary speakers, but this strange overtone resonance is very loud & clear, very captivating in my headphones. Someday perhaps I'll lead a sort of meditative journey for others that utilizes this trance-inducing music.

So the encounter begins there, my hands playing one of these strange series' of patterns seemingly without any effort on my part. The geometric patterns and flashbacks to previous states of ego in my life, suddenly I'm a child, holding back from expressing a need out of fear of judgement from an adult. I'm transported to a painful misunderstanding with a close friend, shown how such damaging conflicts (or avoidance of conflict?) could be prevented, the understanding that could have been reached if both parties had adequate trust and information. In this "safe space" of reflection, I feel such a separateness from my past self that there is no judgement, only idealistic yearnings, mourning for what should have been. Meditations on what could have been, or still could be, if we as flawed humans each in different developmental stages of our learning process only had a bit more faith in ourselves and a bit more understanding of our motives. The angel has seen all of this; she is omniscient. She hasn't only witnessed my all of my actions as if watching a film, but she also sees in my mind and deeply understands the effects that each experience had on my developing psyche. It seems, she understands and remembers even better than I do, and that's why she's here now, showing me what happened, traumas that had been blocked out, encouraging me to indulge in my emotional outpouring upon rememberance of each event shown. She urges me to look closely, to feel deeply, so that I may know how to move forward in a way that separates me from the conditionings of my past. Open fully and take all this in so that you may learn from your past. All of this is meant to inspire me to do better in the future, while helping the others to do the same. The angel is a benevolent spirit of pure empathy, she has seen and understood everything. To her, every event appears to be a purely deterministic outcome, you in this moment, and everything else here in the present is simply the solution to a long, complex, math equation dating back to the beginning of time. To her, our egos are an illusion that we create out of necessity, as a result of lacking omniscience. She makes me aware of this, but also shows me that, paradoxically, the ego state is useful, my belief in free will as it affects me in the present, is necessary. That which is only an illusion in the grand scheme of things, when zoomed all the way out, is essential to me as a simple individual in the present. I can't see all, I can't remember all, so I must act congruently with what I do know, following what I hold in my mantra as valuable enough to never forget. I must also be cautious to not take anyone else's word for things that I do not know. 

The angel, to me, to my returning state of ego, takes the form of my mother, who passed when I was 10. I don't claim that it is my mother visiting me in these states, but I claim that the angelic presence feels just like her, as if she's been there watching all along. A cliché idea of angel, I know. But I'm not trying to be creative right now, I'm trying to describe what I felt, as accurately as I can. When the angel is present I am filled with a sense of trust that I will be understood rather than misunderstood, judged, or attacked. Then I feel then that being seen doesn't just make me vulnerable to be taken advantage of, but rather being known makes my desires understood to others so that we may cooperate and help each other actualize our potiential. It is a rare, very maternal feeling, that I have hardly ever had outside of these two experiences since 1999. A feeling of faith, of trust, that I lost as a little boy of 10 years old.

I've put this into words to solidify the value I see in these experiences, no matter how ridiculous it may sound to others.

Ok, moving back to the more tangible, relatable, physical world. 

During the latter part of this experience, when my headphones were removed and I was integrating what I'd seen, I heard a fluttering sound. I never looked around the room behind me to find the source, assuming it was my fan causing some piece of paper or plastic bag in my clutter to flip back and forth. 

But after it was all done I'm moving from the piano keyboard to go lay down and I see this:
![DSC01910.jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmVrjWjCdcgAaTvMgddZwHL3nFQXXgpW3DKpotvQD7gi8V/DSC01910.jpg)

The source of the fluttering sound I'd been ignoring. A pipevine swallowtail, fluttering around my room before settling on this sheet. 
![DSC01758.jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmeHVxhFvUeuoTzz57WqiWswHDSrkBkMtor3C6kMSTNKYR/DSC01758.jpg)

I joke with myself, in awe. I haven't seen one of these in a long time. Here she is, a physical manifestation of my angel. A subtle tongue-in-cheek sign to reaffirm what only I had seen. Dressed in royal "cerulean blue", my mother's favorite color based on the crayola crayon with that label. Seeing as she passed when I was 10, the memories I have of her are... well, they are the memories that a child would have of their mother. I don't know what it would be like to know her as an adult, as a peer. But I have little memories of things like this... of raising butterflies with her every year, and of the crayola crayon that we agreed was our favorite color. 
![DSC01764-2.jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmW32s1MrvzNQQSfcFo47hKBFK51wa9bNH1RbpeYxHPPGz/DSC01764-2.jpg)

I just smiled and took pictures of the swallowtail. 
![DSC02002.jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmVd4PXeL9Wp3ugKLaCfT3nW4fDv1ceNT7KNv6XVq5ytSW/DSC02002.jpg)

I just grinned and followed it around, geeking out, in awe of an amusing coincidence.
![DSC02026.jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmX7JaTPTKPXstZ6N9vSvsFLqJ45M97YpDFqNVLn7AMcWj/DSC02026.jpg)

It was February, Thursday last week. An odd time of year to see a swallowtail butterfly anywhere, especially in your bedroom after an intense spiritual experience. But it is not as odd for me as it may be for someone else. After leaving home to travel, 10 years after my mother's passing, I resumed the tradition she and I had of raising butterflies. I made a sort of business out of it, but all of that is to be explained elsewhere. I had some chrysalises I'd raised from caterpillars years ago, leftovers which I long ago assumed dead, since they hadn't hatched seasonally and had remained pupated for more than a year. It was one of these that strangely hatched  that night, the first one in many years. So there is an explanation for this creature being in my room, but it was still the last thing I expected to find that night.
![DSC02006.jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmQv9vuetW95btR3vAatczeZW4x7Uw455izK3u6qc4Fswc/DSC02006.jpg)

So much for not getting too wordy. I hope that whatever audience finds this strange story also finds a fraction of the value from my retelling as I gained from experiencing it firsthand. 

🦋