I saw, hovering over the heads of the class, a beautiful white blanket of light. It looked like fog, but it was glowing. It moved—undulating as if it were breathing . . .
Grace Note: Re-reading Sea of Miracles
Over the past few months, I’ve been rereading and republishing, chapter by chapter, my first book, Sea of Miracles—fifteen years after it was first released.
What started as a way to introduce the book to new readers has become a surprising and quiet joy for me. As I encounter each story and insight, I’m remembering the early days, when the light began to show itself to me: the light of intuition and sensing, and now and then, as in the following excerpt, the visible light that glows around everything in this world.
Though I don’t often ‘see’ light with my eyes, I have always sensed it - often with my whole body, as pulsations of flowing patterns which my body intuitively scans.
But back at the beginning, before the angel column - when I was working at my very first job as a spiritual teacher, the light introduced itself in the most literal way—hovering in a room full of people, shimmering like breath.
Grace Note:
Seeing Light
Some people receive, as guidance, flashes of color or light—often in the peripheral vision. Some can see the "aura" or "light body," a measurable energy field that surrounds the physical form.
When I first began working with large groups, in the 1980s, I was leading a section of the DMA teacher training where participants practiced a closed-eye meditation.
I was sitting on the stage in a captain’s chair with an open notebook on my lap, reading the meditation into a handheld microphone. The lights were dimmed.
The meditation guided participants into a deep state of relaxation and visualization. One afternoon, I glanced up at the group—and saw, hovering over their heads, a beautiful white blanket of light.
It looked like fog, but it was glowing. It moved—undulating as if it were breathing, pulsing softly. A living blanket of white light.
And something in me went still. Humbled. Awestruck. As if I’d caught a glimpse of how much love is here, just beyond our usual sight.
I saw that light several times after that. I look for it whenever I lead a meditation. It’s not always there. But when it is, it still stuns me—with its beauty, and with its undeniable reality.
Experiences like this taught me to trust my senses. I didn’t understand it, but I saw it. I couldn’t explain it, but I could respond to it.
Just like breathing—which my body performs without effort—my intuition, and the deeper senses of the soul, are always at work, quietly perceiving the world beyond what I can name.
There is more moving through us—and around us—than we know. When we trust what we glimpse in these moments, even if we can’t explain them, we step more fully into the living conversation of the soul.
We don’t have to wait for dramatic visions to experience this light. We can begin where we are, with what is already here:
The subtle shift in atmosphere when we feel safe
The tingling at the back of the neck when something is true
The warmth that comes when a hard truth lands and we don’t turn away
Try this:
Sit quietly, with your eyes open or closed.
Soften your gaze—or your awareness—and breathe.
Imagine you are surrounded by a gentle, living light. Not coming from anywhere. Just here.
Ask gently, without needing an answer:
Is there something here for me to feel? To notice? To trust?
Then wait. Not for a vision, but for a shift. A warmth. A breath. A presence.
Have you ever sensed light—not just visually, but intuitively? What did it feel like?
Do you trust the things you can’t explain? What gets in the way?
What would it mean to begin listening with your whole body?
There is more here than we know. And your body—your inner perception—is already listening. Let it show you.
Thank you for reading along with me. You’ll find all the chapters here, including (at the top of the pile) a Chapter Index of all we’ve done so far.
In our next excerpt, Angel Dreams.
Warmly,
Amy
xxoo