Faith and doubt

Last night I read Pauline Flynn's book Charlie's Gift, a gentle book chronicling the author's continuing journey through grief and belief and occasional mystical moments of connection in the years after her husband's death.

A big part of the story, which I am still thinking about, is her struggle to trust her intuition, in moments after his death when she was sure Charlie was communicating with her.  The moment he died, all the lights in their neighborhood went out for several hours.  On several occasions over the years that followed, at significant moments, Charlie seemed to be signaling his presence or otherwise communicating through lights, flickering or extinguished, and occasionally, suddenly, all aglow.  She knew (as Nick Darrow would say, just knew; it was gnosis) that these were no coincidences, that they were miraculous, mystical, moments of connection and communication.  But, she thought, what are the chances that such miracles happen to regular people like her?  And wasn't she just wishing this was the case?

Funny, it's impossible to write about it without passing judgment: "Charlie seemed to communicate" introduces doubt; "Charlie communicated" implies none.

Pauline traces her own doubt to a childhood witnessing conflict between a too-credulous (faithful) mother and a too-practical (reality-based) father-- and, I would add, years living with a husband who, by her own description, leaned rather more toward the practical than the mystical.

I think, though, that the whole culture is stacked against us letting go of our skepticism and trusting this kind of intuitive connection.  My first thought, when I read about her immediate understanding of the connection between Charlie's passing and the lights going out was, "wishful thinking."  Yet I believe, perhaps more than most, in the theoretical possibility of such things being true.  I believe in ghosts; I believe it's possible to communicate with (and receive communications from) people who have died.  When I hear about people experiencing such things, I don't usually dismiss it out of hand.  Or so I thought.

"The gifts of the spirit can be recognized by their fruits," my favorite novelist Susan Howatch is always saying.  It seems to me that those are good words to live, or judge, by in this case.  Does trusting this intuition lead to good things or bad?  More peace, or more disturbance?