What to Do after a Major Otherworldly Vision


What to Do after a Major Otherworldly Vision
Alternative title:
A Powerful Calling from the Gods:
Priesthood Means Service

A major, otherworldly, life-changing vision—or a forceful calling from the Gods—that lacks the follow-through of acts of service corrupts one’s spirit eventually.

Without a follow-through of service, the calling or vision ends up feeding the false ego. (… Wow, voice-recognition software turned “feeding the ego” into “cheating the eagle.” Oh, my Gods!)

The false ego then curtails connection with the Divine and creates a mirage of connectivity that gives erroneous information. This misleading guidance leads one into wrongdoing.

The whole process I described of going astray after a major vision or Divine call can occur unwittingly.

NesltrSqTPeople who call themselves a priestess or priest, but the only thing they serve is their own ego—even if they do it unknowingly—get corrupted. Yes, even if they have the best intentions, corruption sets in unknowingly.

I am by no means suggesting the follow-through must be perfect, fearless, or immediate. All human undertakings are far from perfect. And it can take someone a long time to figure out what their follow-through should be.

And often, we might know the most immediate way we can be of service but not know our longterm plan of service yet. That’s to be expected.

For myself, I’ve been in an ongoing process; my ability to serve and the ways I serve both continue to grow, and they need to continue to grow because I cannot rest on my laurels; to whatever degree I am not of service is the exact degree to which my spirit is not whole and the exact degree to which I will not be happy.

I’m not suggesting self-neglect; service includes taking care of myself, knowing my limits, and having boundaries.

A priest or priestess is a servant. That can take many forms. It might mean you give Tarot readings to the general public. Or perhaps your work is hidden because you serve the Gods through constant offerings to Them, rituals to heal Gaia, and tending the property on which you live.

Perhaps your wonderful work would invalidated by misled priests and priestesses who deem your service too humble to be called priesthood, e.g., cooking healthy nutritious meals for your family and otherwise taking care of them on the physical plane.

A Divine call or major vision, without a follow-through of service, not only eventually corrupts the spirit, it also can destroy one’s spiritual peace and material well-being.

If my definition of priesthood— that a priest is a servant—is true, then humility must be an ever present goal.

Achieving humility is a topic unto itself and no easy trait to acquire. Nor is it an asset that, once acquired, is permanent. Finding humility is a lifelong journey. But here are a few suggestions.

1) Find a teacher who does a lot of service and ask them for instruction.

2) Pray for humility.

3) Think of someone whose arrogance really bothers you. Good chance it’s because they’re mirroring your own arrogance. Yes, you may have other good reasons for being bothered by their conceited attitude, such as it hurting those with whom the pompous person comes in contact. But put that aside for a moment and try to determine what in yourself they might be reflecting. You may have to get creative here, because large or subtle differences between their arrogance and yours can make you not see your own. In these instances, I get in touch with the sort of feeling that person’s arrogance gives off, as opposed to any specific haughty actions of theirs that bother me. I then check inside myself to see if that same feeling is in me.

Be assured none of this essay is empty words. Life has taught me a road to happiness, and what I’m saying in this essay describes part of that road.

As a shamanic teacher, I don’t suggest anything I wouldn’t do myself. While I’ve been writing this essay, I’ve also been examining myself for ways I need to apply it to my own life right now. (It doesn’t matter that I’ve applied this essay’s thoughts before; if I’m writing about them, I need to apply them again.) So know you’re not alone in your journey as a visionary or as someone whom the Gods have called; we are in this together, growing and learning, even if we never meet in person or online.

Serve well! You will be whole and happy.

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Meeting Lady Olivia Robertson

My dearest Olivia, Below is a post to honor and celebrate your birthday. The piece was written over a decade ago, but you may remember it, because you told me twice you wanted it as your memorial reading. A birthday is a much happier occasion, I am blessed to post this as a birthday offering.


A treasured picture of my FOI initiation. Click on it to see it less blurred and large.

It’s been quite a while since we’ve been in touch—only once or twice in a decade—which saddens me. I wish my health had allowed otherwise. The multiple sclerosis (that’s what my illness probably is, we still don’t have a definitive diagnosis) ate up my life for years. It got so bad that it looked like I’d only a few months to live. Not to worry, now I’ve another 10 to 30 years left, because I made a deal with the Faerie queen. She needed some community work done, which I now do, and she keeps me going.

My health, though greatly improved, is nevertheless challenging: I use a wheelchair and require caretakers to perform many of my daily tasks, such as dish-washing.

But I am able to continue my work, and am still very happy in it, serving community with the shamanic skills that I was given for that purpose. And the relative improvement in my health has allowed me bit by bit to reconnect with some folks: I’m so grateful to be contacting you and re-sharing with you the piece you enjoyed.

With love, Francesca De Grandis

Meeting Lady Olivia Robertson
Francesca De Grandis, September 2002

In the early ’90s, I was given a vision of Olivia. I saw her to be very similar to myself, what I would become. I hope that doesn’t sound arrogant; Olivia is one of the public priestesses I most admire and my admiration for her also extends to her simply as a mystic with an enormously inclusive and remarkably warm heart. Thus, to say I think we are alike might sound uppity. But in fact, it’s not that way. It’s just that, simply speaking, we are quite alike! Take that as you will.

So I went on a pilgrimage in Ireland to meet her. To her castle in Clonegal. And I wondered: Since I only had that one brief visit scheduled, how was I going to forge the connection that I was spiritually driven to make?

Waiting for her to arrive, I suddenly sensed a presence behind me. Knowing she had come into the room, I turned and there she stood, wearing bright green eye shadow and her bathrobe, the latter clearly—somehow I knew this—worn as a ritual robe. She had posed herself precisely, and her entire aspect proclaimed, “Aren’t I magnificent!?” And she was. She truly truly was. I knew that my vision had been real and correct.

We sat and chatted. Thinking that I had to grab her attention immediately, and somehow impress upon her that we had a reason to go further than a brief, amiable discussion, I took a risk: I told her who I was.

I said to her, “Olivia, I had to meet you. Because I’ve been told we are alike. I’ve been told that, like me, you are eccentric, a remarkable counselor, and an equally remarkable ritualist.”

She responded, “Why do think they call us eccentric?” And then she went on, answering her own question, “You know, they did this book. And, in it, so-and-so lay on an altar and such-and-such-other-person was leaping over a fire, and they called me eccentric! But you know why I think they call us that? It’s because we don’t do it for the money.”


A treasured picture of my FOI initiation. Click on it to see it less blurred and large.

Oh, but I gulped at that point. Because of what I knew I had to say next. To tell her who I was. Only the truth, as always, would do. And I said, “But, Olivia, I do get paid for my services.” I didn’t tell her that I do far more free work than the work that I get paid for, because that wasn’t the point.

She looked at me, perhaps startled, and said, “Ah, I know why they call you eccentric. Because you are sincere. You believe the gods are real.”

She understood. And although we had scheduled a brief visit of an hour or two, she cordially allowed me to spend the rest of the weekend with her.

There are many things I could say about Olivia. Not only in regard to what happened between us that weekend and since then, but also about her work in the world. But for now I will say this: She embodies a gracious inclusiveness that I think is sorely lacking in almost every other spiritual leader and religious organization I have seen. She understands that each person’s path is beautifully valid and, therefore, welcomes everybody into the Fellowship of Isis, blessing each soul who appears before her, querying each person with delighted questions about their unique journey. And I will add this:

Years later, she came to dine with me in my home which, being oh-so-truly-humble, unlike myself, was a sharp contrast to her castle. And as we sat in my kitchen, breaking bread at my Formica table, I happened to tell her that I had spent seven years in Faerie; a time in which I was in trance 24 hours a day. And she asked a question that no one else had ever spoken, no one had had either the insight or forthrightness. She said, “Were you celibate during those years?”

She, again, understood; she is not only a profoundly loving person, though that would have been enough. She is far more. Often, when someone has a big heart like Olivia does, others assume that the good heartedness lacks depth. People tend to think that a person has to be one-dimensional—as if one can have a good heart or brilliance, creativity or amiability, cheerfulness or insight. No, people are much more complex and wonderful than that. And in Olivia’s case, the “more” is that she is also a true not to mention brilliant mystic, and a woman I suspect has made heart rendering sacrifices to serve the community.

At the time of this writing, I have not seen Olivia for maybe three years. And I will get to be with her again in a week. During her last few visits to the States, I had to be at different conferences than she was at. I hated it but, you see, to use the old, trite, but so apt expression, duty called. I am a priestess and must go where Goddess sends me.

So this chance to see her face again, to tell her how much she means to me once again, and to pay homage in any way I can is exciting. I do not use the word homage as a sycophant; for I, too, am one who can proclaim her own magnificence. I have no false humility. But in my struggle to be a community servant, in the day-to-day fierceness of battling for a better world, I, warrior, lift my sword in salute, paying homage to my comrades in arms. To those who walk beside me, believing in greatness, sacrificing far too much for the good fight—you know, there’s no other way to fight the good fight except to sacrifice far too much —, I say, “I could not continue this battle, this terribly difficult work, without you by my side. Even if I never see you, simply knowing that somewhere you are doing the work that needs to be done allows me to keep doing it myself.” And I look up to the spiritual servants, though I am one myself. Lady Olivia Robertson, one warrior and lady to another, blessings on your magnificent soul.”