Believing for Others

I spoke with a psychic recently who told me I have angels helping me. It made me wonder: why can't I believe in angels the way she does? People like her are so casual about these things, easily referencing "guides," angels, and loved ones watching over us.  I’ve always considered myself too practical for that. Yet, a part of me remains curious. Who would these figures be? Could I find a way to connect with them? 

Of course, my mind races.  What is it like to be an angel? Are they assigned to many different people at once? Do they ever get frustrated by those they watch over—or by the animals and plants in their care? Do bad people have helpful angels, perhaps keeping them from causing even worse harm? I wonder if they ever make mistakes, guiding someone the wrong way, and how they handle that. Do they apologize? Do they carry the weight of their duties as a burden, or are they mostly happy? I picture them consulting among themselves or perhaps attending some kind of school to meet certain standards. Do they ever get disciplined, or even leave their vows, like priests or nuns who return to secular lives? 

I mean really, is there a whole world of "angel life" that I don't understand?  

I do hope there are "Plant Devas" (plant spirits that oversee the plant Kingdom) to help my garden this summer.  For me, it is easier to believe in the possibility of forces helping my vegetables.  Maybe I'll sing to them or try to tend to them with special care.  way.   While I struggle to believe in protective figures for my own life, nature feels tangible. 

Also, I can  believe in these forces for other people.  I have a cycling friend who was run over by a city bus.  He said he was alive because angels lifted the bus.  Crazy enough, I believed his story.   He survived with only a broken pelvis and internal bruising, despite the tire marks left on his jersey.  How else could he have lived?  I believe in angels for him. 

Perhaps protective forces are simply easier to believe in when they are for someone else?   Twelve years of Sunday School at my Armenian Church didn't leave me with many stories about angels, so perhaps I will look them up to see what has been written historically. 

In the meantime, I choose to hold that belief for you. I will believe that someone, somewhere—a whisper of a horse fish zipping around,  a flitting dragonfly, a flicker of light, or a quiet breeze—is rooting for you on this wild path we travel. I will hold that hope for you, and perhaps we can all do the same for one another.