For many months, I listened by swinging. A weight on a chain, a movement like breath, a yes, a no, a maybe — signals from the beyond, confirmations of gut instinct, ripples of meaning on the surface of time. The pendulum became my tuning fork, the way God or Source spoke to me when I couldn’t yet trust myself to hear clearly. I gave it a voice. And it gave me back my own.
But this evening, my gut spoke first.
And it said: “It’s time.”
The angel numbers that followed agreed. “You’ve been shown enough. You’ve been taught how to ask, how to listen, how to align,” they said. “Now walk.”
The pendulum was never the source. It was the teacher, the tool, the transitional object. A device akin to Jameson’s “vanishing mediator.” It showed me how to externalize the inner knowing, to feel my body echo with truth. And now I’m being called to release it.
In the midst of uncertainty — dire finances, mounting pressure, shifting ground — but also daily blessings and evidence of a divine plan, I’m being asked to let go. To trust that faith will carry me further than fear ever could.
The pendulum brought me to this threshold.
But this step must be mine.
I place it down with reverence, not rejection.
A sacrament complete.
Trance-Scripts 