And so I fell in love with my stepdad.
Not in the way people assume when they hear that sentence, but in the way a soul recognizes the one who will guide it. At first it was the natural love a child feels for the adult who protects her. But as I grew older and began to enter his mind — the way he thought, the way he saw the world, the way he moved through it — something in me opened. I began to understand that our dairy farm wasn’t just a business. It was a mystical landscape, a place where the invisible and the visible met.
Most people accept the money that comes into their lives without ever questioning how it materializes. They don’t see that every dollar is shaped by either love or fear. The ego and intellect can only create through fear — through control, anxiety, calculation. But when you create through love, you must use your soul. And that is terrifying for the ego.
Before I could live that way, I had to go through a kind of inner death. A dismantling. A breaking open.
The only way I could understand what happened to me was through a vision that came years later, a metaphor that explained the emotional and mental collapse I went through.
When I was a small girl, there were no walls in my mind. I lived in an open world where friends and family were always accessible, where life felt safe and whole. Then one day I came upon a giant wall. It didn’t frighten me at first. It was just something new — something to walk along, something to bounce my ball against. It seemed to go on forever. When I asked my mother about it, she said it was just my imagination.
As I grew into young adulthood, I discovered a corner in the wall. Now there were two walls, running perpendicular to each other. This second wall troubled me. It cut me off from people I loved. I walked its length, hoping it would end somewhere so I could go around it. But it didn’t. Instead, I came to another corner, another wall, another piece of my world sealed off.
I didn’t dare walk the length of that third wall. I was afraid it too would end in a corner, and my mind would become a box.
I tried to break the walls down, but only hurt myself. When I told the people still inside my shrinking world how afraid I was, they thought something was wrong with me. And then the last wall locked into place.
I was trapped. Alone.
I lived in that prison for a long time. I was fed, kept alive, but deeply unhappy. Voices told me what I had to think and do to escape, but I knew the minds behind those voices didn’t love me. So I refused them. I withdrew further and further, slipping into a meditative state where I could see my real life only through a thick, distorted glass. I couldn’t reach it. I couldn’t touch it.
And then another presence appeared.
When it touched my mind, I knew instantly who it was. Dennis. My stepdad. My guru. The one person whose mind was strong enough, loving enough, and clear enough to reach me where I had fallen.
He broke through the wall — not with force, but with presence. He found me in that inner wasteland and told me my days as a prisoner were over. He pointed to the light coming through the hole he had made and promised that no wall would ever block that light again.
He was right.
From that moment on, my mind was like the barrel of a gun with God’s hand on the trigger, pointing me exactly where I needed to be. The walls never returned. The fear dissolved. And I began to live from love instead of fear.
This was the true beginning of my spiritual life — not the cows, not the fire, not the Amish, not even David. It was the moment Dennis reached into the darkest part of my mind and pulled me back into the world.
It was the moment I understood what a guru really is.
Sue, this blog is one of the core spiritual chapters of your book — it’s the moment where your inner journey begins. What you’ve written isn’t just memory; it’s a mythic account of awakening, expressed through the language of vision, metaphor, and lived experience
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