An introduction to religious and spiritual experience

Accident
This experience changed the person’s life completely and set her on a path 
of spiritual searching and development which continues.
It was a beautiful August evening, around 6:00pm. Clear skies, smooth 
flight. . . . I have never particularly enjoyed flying, so was aware of feel-
ing anxious as I climbed on board the aircraft. But this anxiety increased 
dramatically when I ‘heard’ a voice inside my head saying ‘don’t get on 
the plane’. I immediately dismissed this as me being silly. . . .
I also remember being about to confess to my friend about my ‘silly’ 
thought-warning, when the propeller coughed and stopped. We were 
flying at 1,500 feet. 
My immediate thought was my friend was trying to scare me as a 
joke. But when I saw the blood drain from his face, I knew this was it. 
He valiantly tried to re-start the engine. It spluttered and died again. 
And then he went into hyper-mode – sending out mayday calls and 
jettisoning the fuel. I became paralysed, as he banked the plane, trying 
to find some where to land. The only place possible was a small field 
surrounded by high trees. He headed the plane for it. I can remember 
thinking ‘this is it. I’m going to die’. But with that realisation came a 
flood of relief. Although I had never told anyone about it, I was going 
through a dark suicidal depression. I had made a series of disastrous 
life-choices which resulted in being semi-estranged from my children, 

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Non-Religious Triggers
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my business partner walking out on me leaving me with a £30,000 
debt, and my flat was in danger of being repossessed. A dear friend had 
also been murdered by a bomb-blast in Namibia. In strange sensation 
that dying in a plane crash would be a heroine’s death, and perhaps 
make up for the mess I had made of my life. 
I remember calling out in my head to ‘my guides’ to help me. I can’t 
say I felt any presence, but it helped to focus on something beyond 
myself as I watched the ground coming nearer. I can remember facing 
a line of trees, and saying to the pilot ‘we’re going to make it’. He 
answered, ‘no we’re not. Get ready’. At that moment we hit the trees. I 
can’t remember anything until the plane smashed into the ground caus-
ing the glass from the windows to blow into my lap. I can remember 
being thrown back into my seat, and thinking, my god, I’m still alive. 
Shit. And then the pilot screaming – get out the plane’s going to blow 
up. That was the worst thing for me. I can remember throwing myself 
out of the door and running away from the plane. . . . 
I remember sinking down onto the grass beside the plane, shaking. 
And then I remember as if the protective bubble I had surrounded 
myself with to shield myself from the awfulness of what life meant to 
me had been ripped apart. Metaphorically, it felt as if my skin had been 
torn away leaving my inside raw and exposed. I have never felt so lost, 
alone or frightened in my life. 
. . . My recovery was very slow and painful – I felt desperately 
depressed and unable to work for weeks. It was during a bout of 
extreme despair, again lying on the sofa, that I had an extraordinary 
experience which changed everything. 
It felt as if a sentence ‘dropped’ into my head, which said ‘you will 
become a bereavement counsellor’. In that instant everything began to 
make sense, and I knew what I had to do I literally bounced off the 
sofa, and back into feeling more alive than I had for a long time. . . . 
someone else introduced me Elizabeth Kubler Ross’s work, and I was 
back on a plane . . . this time to the West Coast of the US to start train-
ing as a Life, Death and Transition facilitator. This led to fifteen years 
of ‘getting my self well’. . . . 
In short, I divide my life into ‘before the crash and after the crash’. I 
look back on the me who was before the crash and can’t believe I was 
that mad hedonistic, crazy drug-taking party girl who had completely 
lost the plot and was heading fast towards melt-down. It catapulted 
me into a profound healing journey which led me to study with mysti-
cal teachers from around the world. I suppose one could say I embraced 
a shamanic journey. . . . [100051] 

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Religious and Spiritual Experience
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Despair
Sometimes it is in the depths of life, when there seems to be no hope, no 
light at the end of the tunnel that something happens which turns every-
thing around.
In utter disillusionment with self and church, I came to the ‘end of my 
tether’. In a state of intense, inner wretchedness, of such intensity, that 
my mind seemed on the point of breaking, I got up at 4am and began 
wandering aimlessly in the wooded hillside. This went on for some 
time until, unexpectedly, the words of Psalm 130 sounded clearly in 
my mind . . . ‘And plenteous redemption is ever found in Him; and, all 
his iniquities, He Israel shall redeem.’ With those words light seemed to 
envelop me, and there flowed into my desolate heart such a flood of 
Love and compassion that I was overwhelmed by the weight of it. 
It was stricken by such wonder and amazement that I burst into tears 
of joy; it seemed to flow through my whole being with a cleansing and 
healing virtue. From that moment I knew that Love was the nature of 
reality. I was fit and well again. The experience is as real today as it was 
then . . . The awareness of Love fills one’s being with tremendous 
strength. One is weak but at the same time very strong. It is a very 
unusual feeling. [0227]
In 1986 the journalist John McCarthy was kidnapped and taken 
hostage in Beirut. He was eventually held captive for 5 years. This hap-
pened early in his incarceration.
I was to be in this solitary cell for les than three months, but after the 
first two or three weeks it felt as if I had slipped into a different time-
scale. Days passed without any variation. The food-and-bathroom run 
and then nothing. I read and re-read everything available. I relived 
much of my life and made endless plans for the future. But after two 
months with not the slightest hint that I might be released I got more 
frightened. So many of my reflections had me feeling quite inadequate 
that I really began to doubt that I could cope alone.
One morning these fears became unbearable. I stood in the cell sink-
ing into despair. I felt that I was literally sinking, being sucked into a 
whirlpool. I was on my knees, gasping for air, drowning in hopeless-
ness and helplessness. I thought that I was passing out. I could only 
think of one thing to say – ‘Help me please, oh God, help me.’ The next 
instant I was standing up, surrounded by a warm, bright light. I was 

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dancing, full of joy. In the space of a minute, despair had vanished, 
replaced by boundless optimism. 
What had happened? I had never had any great faith, despite a 
Church of England upbringing. But I felt that I had to give thanks. But 
to what? Unsure of the nature of the experience, I felt most comfortable 
acknowledging the Good Spirit which seemed to have rescued me.
It gave me great strength to carry on and, more importantly, a huge 
renewal of hope – I was going to survive. Throughout my captivity, 
I would take comfort from this experience, drawing on it whenever 
optimism and determination flagged. In the euphoria of the next few 
days I felt completely confident. But soon I found myself wondering 
how, even with the support of a Good Spirit, I was going to manage 
alone.
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