My Writing


It was a few months ago, now, when I was asked, When you talk of binding souls, is that the same as in scripture: what is bound on Earth is bound in Heaven, what is loosed on Earth is loosed in Heaven?

And the truth is, my answer is, I don’t really know.

I’ll assume so.  I’ll assume so because my visions either originate or wind up being validated by scripture.  Then reality.  The two have to be there for me to “sign off” on a vision as “real.”

But there it was one day.  My first assignment to bind a soul.

My reaction, my usual for new (and seemingly bizarre) things, was a shrug, and the thought, Oh, for Heaven’s sake!

What ridiculousness was I looking at now?

My first binding

It was, in the end, confounding.  Confounding in many ways.  With visions in which I know I am totally out of my league my approach is to just listen and to watch.  And see if anything “out there” happens.  Anything swats my nose, or buzzes around me.  Or pushes me from behind.

I was just beginning my study of souls, and because I was still young (ish), I was more apt to be open to seeing what would happen.

This was, or so I was told, only training in spiritual warfare.  Not the real thing?  How could that be?

Because it most certainly was a very real battle.  A very long one.  And one with very real consequences.

One aspect of it was the learning, as I’ve heard it spoken of many times by people in many different walks of life, that the best way to handle the situation was to be myself.  To relax into myself and just let it be.  To express that depth in me that I always fought so hard to hide from the world.

The other aspect I used extensively was foolishness.  It is one of the last tools of spiritual warfare.  It is, I have found, a most effective, if brutal, means of fighting.  In this case, because I was being myself and being somewhat open, I got to be fingered as “insane.”  So, in the battle, I became insane.  It had the effect of making my opponent quite protective of me.

It also made him drop his guard, and discuss things in front of me that, were he aware that I was actually listening acutely, he never, ever would have said.  It was like walking around an abandoned diamond mine and having just to stoop over to claim the dropped gems.

Most of the time, I could tell, he never knew what hit him, or why, or how I managed it.

My constant thought was, How stupid are you?

But, all-in-all, binding this soul was like circling him, over and over and over again.  The foolishness on my part kept his attention on me.  My sense is that the real work was being done by Jesus Christ.

I’d never thought of Jesus as a warrior.  As a man who rolled up his sleeves and got his hands dirty, not with healing, but with battle.

Although, it could be argued that in the cases I’ve witnessed this happening to, the binding of the soul is a form of healing.

And I have to admit that all along I wondered if any of this was “real.”

Nevertheless, I stayed true to my visions.  I stayed on the path I was on.  I followed my feet.  And I walked around my enemy.  And around my enemy.  And around my enemy.

Until the day came, when he stood up, looked at me, and spoke.  And I knew, from what he said, that it had been accomplished.  That he had been bound.

That he had been tamed.

The two dragons

It never occurred to me (why would it?) that having recovered from the battle mentioned above, I would walk into the same situation, only doubled.  Only worse.

I kept in mind that the above had always been referred to as my training in spiritual warfare.  Not the real thing.

And, yes, I always had a comment ready under my breath at the thought that that was just training.

So, I knew, just from the word, training, that the real thing would be coming along sooner or later.  But after what I had been through, I thought sitting on a porch overlooking the ocean, pondering the mysteries of life, would be a better life.

Leave the battles to the young men.  Or even young women, if they could find their balance.

But, in spite of these thoughts, it never really occurred to me that binding souls was something I was being trained to do.

Kind of like crocheting.  Or building a log cabin.

A skill.

So there was the study of dragons.  Which, I have to say, I am impressed, when I look at my notebook on the subject, I took more seriously than I admitted to myself (or to God).  Dragons are not real, I muttered.  I don’t like studying things that are not real.

But I did.

And I was confused.  Dragons were good.  Dragons were bad.  Dragon teeth showed up in mythology.

Dragons weren’t only not real, they didn’t form a coherent symbol of anything that I could make out.

And then there was the assignment to study dragon souls.  Another form of evil, I assumed.

Except were dragons evil, in fact, or just an expression of nature somehow?

Ah.  And then came Genesis.

Dragons are chaos.

Makes sense.

The soul (I thought there was only one at the time) I was studying liked chaos.  Kind of like a grown-up version of a two-year-old.  He was quiet about it.  He was even sweet about it.  But he definitely liked to stick his finger into things and stir them up.

He even enjoyed being openly offensive.

Thought it was all good fun, it seemed.

So, then came the command: Bind his soul.

And I wondered, I don’t have access to this man.  What’s the deal?

Ah, prayer.  I had to create a dragon-soul binding prayer.

You know, sometimes my life is, well, just, well, yup, that’s what it is.

So I did.

And I said the prayer.  And I confirmed the prayer.  And I turned the prayer over to God.

And the effect on the man was startling.

It was as though he knew.  And as though he knew that whatever had happened to him had come through me.

So he and his best bud teamed up.

It’s amazing the effect I have on people sometimes.  And I’m so quiet.  And well behaved.  You’d never know, you’d never think, just by looking at me, that I could, well, piss off someone so deeply.

But I did.

And where once there was one, now there were two.

And the second one made the first one look like a wee baby dragon.  A tiny, little, new-born dragonette.

I knew the soul of the second dragon.

I just had never seen it in terms of a dragon.

And like the first binding, this effort was intense.  It was extended.  And it had real consequences.

Like an Army soldier, I was learning that my life was open to attack.  I was no longer the quiet, peaceful mystic contemplating the nature of God.

In my hand was the sword.  Some days it was the sword of truth.  Some days it was the sword of justice.  Some days it was the sword of the Holy Spirit.  Sometimes it was just the sword of the word, yes.

But it became part of my arm.  An extension of me.

And I stayed true to my visions.  I stayed on the path I was on.  I followed my feet.  And I walked around my enemy.  And around my enemy.  And around my enemy.

And they attacked.  And they attacked.  And they attacked.

Until they could attack no more.

And that is when I knew that I had them.  That they had been bound.

When their attacks became silly little whimpers.  And all they could do is wonder what had happened.  How I had managed it.

Tsk.  That’s all I have to say.

What is truly remarkable about binding a soul is the result: how calm (eventually) these souls become.  How settled in their lives.

How content.

‘Tis truly a miracle of God.

If hard on the warrior.



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