by Owen Xu

On the red wooden table, a wisp of smoke rose from the incense burning in a silver
cauldron carved with soaring dragons. A plate held apples, pears, and oranges, peanuts. A glass
vase stood elegantly beside it, filled with tall white lilies and vibrant purple lotus flowers. There
was a brown wooden sculpture of Maitreya Buddha, carved with a big, smiling face and a large
bare stomach and chest. There are also some yellow thin paper called Fulu and brush and ink on
the table. Illuminated by the red light, a small sculpture of the fierce warrior Guanyu dressed in
green, gripped a long broadsword, stood on a wooden house-shaped altar hanging on the wall.
Two dark red wooden chairs, intricately carved with peach trees on their backs, stood to the right
of the table.

A short and skinny woman in her forties, wearing a purple fluffy jacket, sat on one of the
chairs. My mom and I sat on pale green plastic chairs across from her. On the other side of the
room, bright white overhead lights illuminated a big-screen television, a large soft sofa, and a
short table holding a tray filled with cookies and chocolates. The floor was covered in white tiles.

My mom was taking me to visit her friend at her home to bless me for safety. Suddenly, a
gust of wind swept through the room, disrupting the curling trials of incense smoke. The woman
widened her eyes and broke into a big, childlike grin. She laughed, the wrinkles on her forehead
twisting, and shook her head playfully. Her long black hair swayed with the movement. Her eyes
sparkled with playfulness. She put her hands on her lips, then tapped the fruits on the table.
Then, she turned to us and spoke in a high-pitched and cheerful voice, “Glad that you guys are
here!”

My mom leaned forward, her face tense and her eyes filled with worry, and said, “Yes,
thank you so much. My son is flying to America for high school. Please keep him safe.”

I clung to her sleeve and whispered, “Who is her master?”

“He is Nezha, the deity with three heads and six arms. Everything will be fine,” she
reassured me.

“Isn’t everything going to be fine anyway?” I questioned, turning away.

My mom gently tugged my sleeve, signaling me to be respectful.

The woman’s voice rang again: “Zhiwen, there’s nothing to fear. My master will protect
you.”

She suddenly stopped moving, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and sat up straight.
Turning to her right, she placed her arms on the table, picked up a calligraphy brush, and dipped
it into the ink. She traced symbols onto a yellow Fulu paper. Her eyes remained calm and
peaceful, yet carried an air of authority that was both dignified and unquestionable.

“Come here,” she commanded in a low voice.

I stepped forward. She lit the Fulu and waved it over my head. The paper burned quickly
with its delicate red-orange flames flickering gently. Ash drifted before my eyes as warmth
radiated from the flames. Confusion and curiosity filled me. How could a simple piece of paper
ensure my safety? Yet, the ritual felt thrilling, so I went along with it. A gentle heat spread from
my head down my spine, flowing through every part of me. A strange yet comforting energy
seemed to connect me to Nezha’s power. I looked into her eyes. They were brown, dignified, and
animated by the flickering orange glow of the burning Fulu.

In less than a minute, the ritual was complete. Eagerly, I asked, “Spiritual connection
seems really powerful. Do you think I could also create the connection?” The woman gave a
knowing nod and replied calmly, “Zhiwen, it is a powerful skill. You should wait until you grow
up to practice it, but you have the potential.” I stared at her, searching for any sign of Nezha’s
presence in her serene posture, her half-closed eyes, and the light smile on her red lips. I
wondered what it felt like to be possessed by a spirit. Was it like sleep, unconscious and drifting?
Or was she still aware? Did she feel complete in this deep connection with a spirit?

Interested in the experience of connections, I delved into psychology in the U.S. in high
school. However, I discovered that psychologists often associate such experiences with
personality disorders, labeling them as sudden identity shifts, delusions, or psychotic episodes.
Perhaps, but my mom’s friend managed her clothing store and carried out her daily tasks
normally, which made it clear that her experience didn’t resemble any kind of disorder. This left
me questioning why spiritual encounters are so often dismissed as unreal or even pathological.
Were all the emotions I felt about the burning Fulu and my connection to Nezha simply products
of my imagination and projection?

#

These questions lingered in my mind as I entered college. One day, at the club fair, I
stumbled upon the Spiritual Club and met Aurelius—a student with an oval-shaped face, dark
skin, and fluffy hair styled into two wolf-cut tails. He was practicing tarot readings with
interested students. Curious, I approached him for a brief conversation about his spiritual
experiences. He claimed to have a connection with the moon and was pleased to see my interest
in spirits. Though I recognized him, I hadn’t interacted with him much before, as my growing
discomfort with spirits had kept me from engaging too deeply.

That discomfort, however, didn’t stop my curiosity. Later, I learned about the Psychology
OCS program, a chance to visit patients with psychosis and explore the intersection of psychosis
and spirituality from my own perspective. I saw it as an opportunity to navigate between
psychology and spiritual beliefs. Interestingly, Aurelius would also be joining the program.

The hospital was nestled in the suburbs, surrounded by a dense forest that made the
journey feel like we were traveling far from the city. It had taken us more than one hour on the
metro and bus to reach this secluded place. There were long lanes lined with vast green lawns,
and old houses covered in vines stood in clusters in the hospital. A crowd of Carleton students,
buzzing with excitement, chatted about what it would be like to meet patients with psychosis.
But I was nervous. The more I learned about psychology, the more I worried about the
connection between spiritual practice and psychosis. Every time I thought back to my experience
with Nezha, the same question intruded on my mind, erasing the warmth I had once felt and
leaving only a cold uncertainty. What if seeing spirits truly led to psychosis? That fear settled in
my chest as I walked through the psychiatric hospital.

A tall and composed psychiatrist in a white coat welcomed us and introduced himself as
Dr. Jan and led us into one of the old houses. The walls inside were painted a warm yellow,
adorned with paintings of plants. Patients—old and young, men and women—moved around the
halls. The walls inside were painted a warm yellow and decorated with paintings of plants.
Patients of all ages and genders moved through the halls. In front of us, an elderly, tall, and
plump man with nearly closed eyes walked slowly, taking small steps. The students quickly
paused to let him pass before continuing into a meeting room.

“This is the Acute Care Unit, so it’s difficult to find patients who are safe for you to
meet,” Dr. Jan said, “But there is one who should be fine. He also claims to know English.
Hopefully he does. Wait a second. I’ll go get him.”

In less than a minute, a thin, unshaven man in his thirties walked in. He wore a long gray
robe, and his pale skin contrasted with his wild, unbrushed hair that seemed to explode in all
directions. He smiled slightly and gave us a small wave.

Dr. Jan entered alongside him and said, “So, Martin, could you tell us a little about
yourself?”

“Hi, I’m Martin. I grew up in Prague. I am 26 years old,” Martin said, nodding slowly as
he spoke with passion, “I am a physical therapist. I treated people’s physical pain, not just at the
surface level, but deeply, profoundly.”

His eyes shimmered in the sunlight as he lifted his hands, waving them steadily forward,
his fingers moving as if casting a spell. Leaning in slightly, he smiled gently and continued: “I
could see my patients’ pain, the pain even they couldn’t perceive. I felt deeply connected to
them. I was brutally honest with them—I told them they would die if they didn’t change their
behavior.”

I exchanged glances with Aurelius. He shrugged, let out a sigh, and then simply turned
back to watch Martin with curiosity.

“Have you been using drugs?” Dr. Jan asked.

“I used to smoke weed. It made me faster, expanded my vision,” Martin said, shaking his
hand as if emphasizing his point. “But now that I’m off it, I feel slower.”

“And why did you end up here?” Dr. Jan pressed.

“I was treating my patient. I needed to heal her deeply,” Martin said, raising his soft
hands in front of him with a shrug. “Then, suddenly, the police came and brought me here.” His
voice faded as he slowly turned away, fixing his gaze in front of the wall. His eyes appeared
empty, lost in thought and devoid of light.

I took a deep breath, leaned back, and let out a long, exhausted sigh. After shutting my
eyes for a moment, I opened them and stared at the ground. My unfocused gaze shifted
aimlessly, like scattered marbles.

“How do you see deep into people?” Aurelius asked, leaning forward with his eyes
staring at Martin.

Martin answered, “It comes from my soul. My soul has greater vision and can see others’
souls and their pain.”

I raised my hand and asked him: “How do you heal people?”

“I can sense your soul and push the bad things out,” Martin said, raising his right hand
and gently pushing it forward. Then, he turned to us and asked, “Do you want to try?”

My classmates and I widened our eyes and exchanged uncertain glances. The
uncomfortable shuffling of chairs echoed through the room. We glanced at Dr. Jan, but he simply
stood there, watching us.

After a few seconds of silence, Dr. Jan finally spoke: “Okay, we don’t need to do a
demonstration. I think your explanation is clear enough. Also, our time is up. You may return to
your room.”

Once the door closed behind Martin, Dr. Jan turned back to us: “Any questions for our
debrief?”

“How well is his recovery going?” one student asked.

“He’s been off drugs for two weeks and is getting more sleep, but as you saw, he still has
delusions,” Dr. Jan said in a detached and clinical tone. His words carried an air of certainty, as if
Martin’s reality had already been neatly categorized. “He’s also extremely charismatic and
restless. Just the other day, he ‘treated’ another patient—and even a nurse. Honestly, there’s not
much psychiatry can do for him, but we can’t release him either. He’s a danger to society.”

I glanced at Dr. Jan, unsettled by the confidence in his bright eyes and the certainty in his
smile. There was something too definitive in the way he spoke, as if the complexity of Martin’s
experience had already been reduced to a simple diagnosis. Was Martin merely delusional, lost in
his own mind? Or was there something real in his charisma, in his uncanny ability to sense pain
in others?

“Do you know why he’s here?” Another student asked.

“His story is unusual,” Dr. Jan replied, “He was actually a successful physical therapist
before he developed mental health issues. Even after adopting his ‘soul healing’ method, he
remained popular until his livestreams raised concerns. He started placing his hands on female
clients’ genitals under the guise of healing. Some viewers found this deeply troubling and
reported him.”

I sighed and recalled Martin’s light brown eyes, glowing in the sunlight as he watched the
fire burn. As we stepped out of the room, I felt conflicted about the idea of a spiritual connection.

The rest of the group seemed to enjoy the visit, chatting casually on the way back. One
student even remarked, “That guy is really weird but charismatic. I could totally see him
becoming a cult leader.”

Their laughter and lighthearted tone unsettled me. Uncomfortable, I quickened my pace
to distance myself from the conversation. As I moved ahead, I noticed Aurelius walking with his
head down, lost in thought.

I caught up with him.

“Do you want to take a walk in the forest after this?” I asked.

He looked up and nodded.

#

We told our instructor that we would return on our own and made our way toward the
entrance of the forest near the hospital. As we walked into the forest, the noise of the rush of
traffic gradually faded into the background. The leaves beneath our feet crunched softly with
each step. Walking beside him, I felt a sense of calm settle over me. My attention shifted to the
forest around us—the golden leaves blanketing the ground, the tall trees lining the trail on both
sides. The air was crisp and cool, carrying the scent of earth and autumn. The sun, a warm
orange-yellow, filtered through the branches, casting a golden glow on the brown leaves still
clinging to the trees. They shimmered softly in the fading light, as if holding onto the last
warmth of the day.

“Do you think his psychosis is caused by his spiritual experiences?” I asked.

“I’m not really sure since I didn’t get to see his practice. I was too scared to volunteer,”
he admitted with a small smile.

Then he added, “But some people become so deeply involved in their spiritual
experiences that they struggle to separate the reality most people see from their own perceptions.

As we learned in our psychology class, some brains are more prone to this than others.”

“They get lost too deep in their own minds,” I commented.

“So you think it’s all just in the brain?” he asked.

“Uh… yeah?” I replied hesitantly, raising my eyebrows to avoid offending his spiritual
beliefs.

He laughed.

“Don’t worry, I know what you’re thinking,” he said with a smile, “Actually, there’s a
school of thought that believes all spiritual connections are simply projections of human will,
rather than interactions with actual entities in the material world.”

I hesitated for a moment but still decided to ask.”So, do you think your connection with
the Moon is just your imagination and not real?”

“I don’t think ‘imagination’ means it’s fake,” he explained, “I see it the same way as
happiness—it happens in the brain, but that doesn’t make it any less real. In fact, I believe in it
even more because it aligns with the scientific knowledge we’ve learned.”

“That sounds like a strong argument for spiritual experiences,” I replied. Then, I started to
rethink my own experience with Fulu.

The orange sun was almost set. I suggested we should probably head back.

He smirked and said, “Wait a second. Maybe it would be safe for us to play around in the
forest tonight. Let me ask the Moon. Do you want to do that with me?”

I was shocked by his sudden suggestion. My body tensed as I stared at his outstretched
hand, his sincere brown eyes fixed on me with quiet expectation. My heart pounded, thoughts
racing in all directions, anxiety twisting in my stomach. Was he serious? What exactly was I
agreeing to? This little experience couldn’t possibly haunt me, right? I tried to reassure myself.
Yet, doubt gnawed at the edges of my mind. I swallowed hard and took a hesitant step forward.
My legs felt heavy, my nerves tightening with each step. The churning in my stomach only grew
stronger. Slowly, I reached out my trembling right hand and let him take it.

“Take a deep breath,” he instructed and then exhaled, “Huuuu.”

A breeze rustled through the leaves, carrying a crisp, whispering sound. His hands were
soft and warm. The gentle wind and the warmth of his touch eased my anxiety. My heartbeat
slowed, my breath became steady, and I started to feel calmer and more grounded.

“Now, roll your eyes upward and picture the Moon goddess, Hecate,” he continued in a
calm voice, “There’s no right way to picture her. Try to feel the connection”

I lifted my gaze to the sky, but all I could picture was the pale yellow Moon against the
blue sky. A cool breeze brushed against my skin. Was that the Moon’s touch?

The world was silent, except for the distant calls of swan geese as they glided across the
sky. I let the wind wrap around me, gently easing my doubts and tension.

Suddenly, Aurelius shuddered and exclaimed: “Run! Hecate said yes!”

Before he could finish his sentence, he had already taken off on a forest path faintly lit by
the last glow of the pale pink clouds.

Confused, I ran after him, calling out: “Wait, what’s going on?”

“I asked her if it was safe to stay in the woods after dark. If the answer was yes… gave
me a shock,” he said excitedly while catching up to breath, “A few seconds later… I felt a strong
shock through my spine.”

Then he turned to me and asked, “Did you feel anything?”

I caught my breath and answered, “I felt… the touch of the wind on my face. It seemed
like something was communicating with me, but I don’t know if it was the Moon, the nature, or
just my imagination.”

“That’s… a good start,” Aurelius said, exhaling. “Keep questioning, but also trust your
instinct—whatever it may be. It will speak to you.”

“But won’t they take control over me and make me lose sense?” I asked as I ran through
the rushing wind.

“Just find… the connection gently,” he reassured me, breaking between breaths.
“Remember, they are your projections… You can always stop before it gets out of control.”

I sprinted through the woods, inhaling the damp, cold air mixed with the faint, salty scent

of soil. Twigs and soft earth pressed against my feet with each step. I sped up and immersed

myself in the embrace of the forest and wind.

Welcome. Still afraid of me? Softly, a voice echoed in my mind.

It felt like the way I spoke to myself, but the voice wasn’t exactly mine. Is it something
inspired by the world around me?

“Who are you?” I whispered.

Just feel.

I looked up. The brown leaves on the branches softly glowed, twisting into shapes of tiny
flickering flames. Standing beneath one of the trees, I reached out and touched a leaf. Its dry,
crisp texture crackled under my fingertips, a faint glow radiating from where I made contact. A
warm, steady rhythm pulsed through it, like the subtle heartbeat of the forest and earth. My blood
seemed to move in harmony with the swaying leaves, surging through me like a rushing tide of
energy. Suddenly, I felt Martin’s fiery eyes flashed in front of me. They locked onto me, piercing
deep into my fear. My heart pounded, but I quickly tried to steady myself. I took a deep breath of
the brisk air and refocused on the gentle touch of the leaves beneath my fingers. I traced the
veins stretching toward the center and felt the curled edges, rough yet delicate. The wind wove
through the trees, plucking at the leaves and carrying the rhythmic whisper away to the
darkening sky. The rustling leaves resonated in my mind, surrounding me, stretching infinitely in
all directions.

Within that resonance, I felt a familiar, lingering warmth gently flow around my chest,
softening my tense nerves. It was the same sensation I had first experienced years ago when I
touched the burning Fulu from Nezha. For the first time, I let go of my fear of losing control of
spirits. Instead, I let myself loose in its warm embrace. I drifted between the possibility of real
spirits and the idea that it was all in my mind. But at this moment, the distinction no longer
mattered. I felt the warmth of the leaves beneath my fingers. That feeling—real or
imagined—was enough. I was here, fully present, fully alive, and unafraid.

Aurelius noticed that I had stopped and walked over. “Do you feel anything?” he asked.

“I think… I felt a resonance with the vibrant energy flowing from the burning tree,” I
whispered, still lost in the moment. Aurelius smiled, and we sat beneath the trees, leaning on
each other. I looked up at the sky, seeing Nezha’s half-closed eyes slowly opening as the stars
flickered in the dark expanse. A deep calm settled over me, filling me with the courage to
continue exploring the forest’s living, mysterious, pulsing energy.