Stranger Than Fiction, 8

It took a little time to get settled in the house.  I didn't have a working phone till February 1988, but I luxuriated in the isolation, following two years of feeling available to others 24/7.  It felt lonely at times in this old house on an acre but there was the satisfaction of having, on my near-nonexistent carpentry skills, made the place liveable.  The forest in the back was a real refuge.  Neighbours seemed distant, unfriendly, odd, or just plain hostile.  I was also frequently finding the remains of dead birds, or rather skins of dead birds throughout the property.  I later figured out that there was some activity of witchcraft and Satanism involved, likely connected to the property owners/landlords.

Just days following my thirty-second birthday my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer.  She was soon phoning me almost daily as I tried to give her support as well as visiting in hospital when she was going through tests.  The evidence of strange occult activity around my place was mounting. 

In May a man in his twenties approached me downtown and expressed interest in me and in seeing the house I was living in.  He came with me on the bus that day for dinner.  I showed him the property, including a cairn I had built.  Without saying anything he picked up a stick off the ground and produced a knife which he used to pare shavings onto the sacred pile of stones.  When I asked what he was doing he said nothing.  He left shortly.  I never saw him again.

In the summer Flippy whom I knew from downtown became a Christian and moved into the house with me.  A huge mistake.  He turned into a ruthless controlling fanatic with a violent temper and a strong talent for manipulation.  A very charismatic individual as well.  He admitted to me one day that he was part of a coven of Satanists and that his periodic disappearances on his bike were to attend rituals.  Then he said he was joking.  I cannot go into detail on this page but it became evident that he was not joking.

We did have a working plan to see an intentional Christian community develop out of this house.  The previous year, 1987, I became friends with a transgender woman, an amazingly wise and kind person with whom I spent many evenings over coffee.  At that time she worked in the sex trade.  She confided to me one day about a vision she had for a kind of intentional healing community.  She called it the Refuge, where people could go for comfort, healing, growth, to create, to celebrate life and to foster community.  This became my template for the new Christian community that was about to emerge where I was now living.