Arlene's Aura

Gail Fillion hadn't known what an aura was—until the day she suddenly saw one. Here she recalls this long ago, memorable experience.

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Many years ago, long before I became familiar with the term “aura,” I had the experience of suddenly seeing one for the very first time. It was during a weekend trip to Chicago with some friends who, like me, were seeking to find and follow a spiritual path in life.

We had gone to spend time with a woman named Arlene who lived with her teenage son and daughter in a Chicago suburb called Oak Park. Arlene was a middle-aged woman, slightly overweight, what you might call average looking, even nondescript. Someone you might not notice much if you passed her on the street. All that I really knew about her was that she gave credence to the spiritual side of life, and that she also tried to help young people that she met, who were troubled or struggling in some way. If they had nowhere else to go, she opened her home to them for a time until they could get back on their feet. Some people considered her a “spiritual teacher” of sorts, although I never heard her make any claims.

One of my friends had met her somehow, felt that she was special, and told the rest of us in our small circle about her. With Arlene’s permission, we began making the weekend round-trip drive from Toledo, Ohio (where we lived) to Arlene’s home in Oak Park—where we slept on her sofas and on the living room floor if needed, and contributed to, cooked and shared meals together. At times we would gather and talk about life, about God, and about becoming a better human being. Sometimes we sang and sometimes we laughed.

Sometimes we would go off on our own to think about our individual lives and where they might be headed, what we might need to learn, what changes we might need to make. There were happy moments as well as challenging ones. There was at least one epiphany that I know of, because it was mine.

One evening, just after dinner, a group of us gathered in the living room. We had come together at Arlene’s suggestion, as I recall, with the intention of praying for guidance and in gratitude. Standing in a circle, with our eyes closed, our interdenominational group began reciting a prayer we all knew, “The Lord’s Prayer”. After a few moments, I felt what’s best described as an intense vibration in my head, along with the urge to open my eyes. As I did, I found myself looking directly across the circle, at Arlene. 

There I saw, around and extending outward and above her head and shoulders, the most beautiful, vivid, brilliant colors I had ever seen. Golden White. Royal Blue. Deep Rose. I had the impression of a halo and of colors arching upward and outward. There was a sense that I was seeing something much more than Arlene, yet very much a part of her, too. What really struck me at the time, though, was how normal it felt. Unusual, yes. Amazing, yes. But not strange at all. So much so that I looked for a brief time, then simply closed my eyes again and continued with my prayer. 

My recollection is that I told Arlene about it afterwards, but I don’t have any memory of her response, if she had one. She may have smiled a bit, I’m not sure. She was a very down-to-earth person, and it would have been unlike her to make a big deal of it. 

I only saw Arlene a time or two afterwards, as my life continued on towards its own unique destiny, with new experiences, challenges, and revelations to come. 

It’s hard to believe, but fifty years have passed. So much has happened in my life that it’s been a long, long while since I’ve thought about Arlene, my visits to Chicago and the first time I ever saw an aura. Yet the memory of it has suddenly flashed before me, as startlingly vivid now as it was then.

Life is such a mystery. Paths cross. Moments happen. People move on. Given how much time has gone by, it’s extremely likely that Arlene is no longer on this earth. But today, I remember her. Today, I wonder who and what she really was.

Nondescript? Hardly.

For at least a few moments in time, I know for a fact that she was brilliant. She was Golden White. She was Royal Blue. She was Deep Rose.

She was.

If you enjoyed this story, you may also want to read Gail's writing "Perennial: A Story of Life Cycles" and listen to her audio reading "Story of a Rose" .

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