St. Raphael's Promise

How a single morning changed my life

“Answered Prayers” by Seb McKinnon

One morning, at the age of 14, I woke up at the crack of dawn. To do what, exactly, I forgot. I was probably up to either draw, study, or play video games while listening to dubstep. I crawled out of bed and shuffled over to my desk. As soon as I sat down, it hit me.

It was a strange feeling, something rising from the pit of my chest. My heart started to pound. My hands began to shake. I felt the urge to scream and yet a smile painted my face. This feeling was powerful, irrepressible, glorious, and mighty. This primeval urge made it feel as though it were my duty to conquer—no—liberate a distant land from the clutches of a tyrant. I had to bring victory to an army that didn’t exist and freedom to a people I did not know. It was as if the very cosmos was driving me forth. This mood—this raw, pure, visceral energy—rose from the depths of my soul, catching me completely off-guard.

I nearly ripped open my front door in a frenzy, as if to unleash whatever spirit that was rousing inside of me. This spirit knew where to go and what to do. I was ready to trust it completely and let it whisk me off into the black woods around my home.

However, a bit of sense crept in, sobering my grandiose mood. I couldn’t leave my house. Not this early, at least. My parents would know, and I’d have to face their ire. Great…

Not knowing how to handle such excitement, I had to settle for a cup of rose tea. (Anticlimactic, I know.) But the spirit inside me continued to stir and make itself known. This was the first of many such experiences.

When I tried to relay the incident to my family and online peers, they all said the same thing: “You watch too many movies and read too many war books”. Every time, my reaction was something along the lines of

This seemed like a reasonable explanation. At the time, I had become enamored with the stories of ancient and modern commanders. Achilles, Cyrus, Napoleon, Boudica, Gustavus Adolphus, Alexander the Great, Catherine the Great, and a litany of others painted my teenage fantasies. I cried when I read about Alexander’s death, praised the defiance of Rommel and Zhukov, and justified Justinian’s actions as if he were a friend. Needless to say, most people didn’t quite understand this obsession. Adults thought I was a war-hungry while children thought I was insane.

However, looking back, I don’t think that urge was the result of media over-consumption. That morning, I had had a profound, semi-spiritual experience. Heaven had finally sent me my Call to Adventure, and my Inner King had answered with glee.

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At the age of 14, I was something of a stuck-up loser. I was introverted and—by other people’s accounts—too serious. Having intrusive thoughts, depressive moods, and the attention span of a sad/angry goldfish, I somehow excelled academically in high school. In my head, I was the mad genius, misunderstood by the world. Really, I was just flamboyantly dressed and mentally unstable. To give you an idea, I used to dress like this:

I had a coat almost exactly like this…

Since when was THIS the candidate for divine wisdom?! Everyone knows emo-goth-poet-vampires with tortured souls are the opposite of sane! So, predictably, when I told people I had the desire to be a conqueror/liberator, I both looked and sounded delusional.

At first, I wondered if people were right. Maybe I had watched too many movies. Maybe I was influenced by the stories I’d read. Maybe I was crazy. But that spirit inside me kept prodding me. It was undeniable. It was an energy that came from beyond my edgy facade. It was authentic and real. On that destined morning, my higher self had jumped into waking before going under again. When my frenzied mood finally subsided, I was left feeling hollow and forced to stare down the abyss that was the god-shaped hole in my heart.

I began to search for answers wherever I could. I had no one to talk metaphysics with, so I was left clinging to any advice I could find. Unsurprisingly, I got a lot of terrible advice (looking at you, Tumblr and Twitter) that made my already chaotic mind a more intolerable prison. But there were beautiful pieces of advice and literature that made things easier to bear. The Book of Ecclesiastes was my dearest friend. “A Psalm of Life” became the prayer I whispered every night. These writings gave me solace, but only increased the longing I felt.

Meanwhile, my Inner King continued to toss and turn impatiently. It would remind me of its presence and fought endlessly with my Ego and Shadow. My world felt like it was falling apart. I wanted answers and release. And it came, partially, in the form of an angel.

One night, I saw St. Gabriel in my dreams. I was trying to get to him, but a throng of eager children got in the way. Discouraged, I fell back, realizing I would not be able to speak to him. I then felt a presence behind me. When I looked, it was St. Raphael. He was striking, with bright blue eyes and dark wavy hair. The angel pulled me to the side and spoke to me. He asked me about my troubles and I told him in depth. He listened to my frustrations calmly and attentively. Having heard my pain, he put me at ease. He told me that, while I may not have all the answers now, I would discover them in due time. Before departing, Raphael reminded me that the angels were there to protect me and that I would see him again.

I woke up soon after. I have not seen Raphael since. Perhaps, I never will. At that moment, though, I felt at ease. In the days that followed—perhaps being guided by the angel—I discovered Carlo Zen’s “The Saga of Tanya the Evil.”

To drastically simplify things, “Tanya the Evil” is a fiction series recounting the military chronicles of a 12-year-old commander in a world of mages and magical warfare. She also hated Communists. I was hooked. At some point in the series, though, Tanya was wandering the field when she began to ponder her raison d’etre—her reason for existence. Why was she here? What was she doing? What was her ultimate purpose?

This blew my mind. While other literature I’d read had spoken of this, no author had put it so bluntly as Carlo Zen. Suddenly, I began to wonder what my own purpose was. How did a person know what their purpose was? Was it something other people decided? Was it something people could choose for themselves? How could someone be sure their purpose wouldn’t change? Whenever I did, my Inner King would pace in thought with me.

At this point, I was 15 or 16. Though I was caught in the throws of spiritual warfare, I was determined to find the answer. I had to. It was the only way to satisfy the rowdy spirit inside of me.

One day, after having finished studying a chapter of Robert Green’s “Laws of Human Nature,” Providence led me to my second home:

Academy of Ideas

. I was cautious at first, wary of any agendas that might have lurked under the surface. When I realized there was none, I dove in head first. I watched every single one of their videos with laser focus. When I was finished, I rewatched the ones I liked best.

I spent hours soaking in this knowledge, listening while cleaning or playing chess. After each video, I would be left beaming with certainty, a rarity in those days. My mind would be racing with thoughts of a higher nature. Little did I know, but I was feeding my Inner King. I myself was growing stronger and more confident, and would soon be ready to reveal this spirit to the world.

During this time, I began to see the commanders I admired in a new light. Many, I realized, were not solely driven by the desire to conquer. Rather, these were men and women who had realized their divine purpose and were willing to become leaders to fulfill their heavenly missions. My collection of heroes shifted to make way for figures such as Ghandi, Joan d’Arc, Hector of Troy, and even the Archangels.

By looking up to more spiritually-driven heroes, my desire to discover my life’s purpose grew. Then one day, as St. Raphael promised, it hit me.

Dramatization

All at once, everything became clear. My duty on this earth isn’t to lord over territories or even other people. It’s to free those who are bound in the chains of mental slavery. It’s to enlighten those who seek liberation from chaos and corruption. It’s to inspire and rally my generation to change in order to create a better world for our descendants.

At that moment my Inner King was unleashed. It burst forward with such zeal, that I couldn’t contain it. My head swam and my heart sang. The world itself seemed like a kaleidoscope of silver, gold, and bronze. Energy coursed through my veins, electrifying my very being. I wanted to scream in ecstasy. I leaned against the wall, steadying myself.

Then, for the first time in my life, I cried with joy. I cried sweet tears, grinning at the beauty of the world and the godly knowledge that had been gifted to me.

My Inner King was finally free. Since that day, I have never attempted to hide this spirit. It is mine and I am it. I am proud of this spirit and all that it brings. It is my higher nature. It has guided me to my purpose and allowed me to kill the demons that tore me apart.

That fateful morning woke up something grand in me. If I had one wish, it would be that every soul on this Earth experiences such a grand awakening. The beauty and terror it brings truly is a one-of-a-kind experience.

(Oh, and I no longer dress like a bootleg Victorian, in case you were wondering.)