Why I’ll continue using Doreen Virtue’s angel cards

Last week Doreen Virtue, creator of the angel cards I use in my readings, announced she’s renouncing much of her spiritual work. This post is my response to that.

Many years ago, towards the end of a Billy Joel concert in Auckland, I commented to my friend that Billy still had not played one of his biggest hits,

Uptown Girl

. She informed me that he doesn’t play it anymore because it reminds him of his ex wife Christie Brinkley (whom the song is famously written about). Even today I’m not sure whether this is true – maybe Billy just became sick of playing it, who knows? – but it struck me then that there’s a wide gulf between the way people respond to a piece of work and the feelings of the person who created it. If an artist grows to despise a song that played a large part in their success, does that diminish how special the tune is to those who adore it?

I found myself asking that question again last week, in relation to a force that runs much deeper than pop music: our belief systems. 

I learned that Doreen Virtue – the prominent metaphysical leader who created the angel cards I use every day in my personal and professional life, the books that have influenced my spiritual beliefs and the certification program that underpins my business – is now turning away from many elements of her own teachings. Doreen has become a born-again Christian, and as a consequence is renouncing some of her previous work. And, if statements made to Christian media and Facebook groups are accurate, she is intending to lead her new age followers towards Christianity. I’m told that in a now-deleted video which prompted much hurt and confusion in the spiritual community, she told her legions of dedicated followers she would prefer they didn't read one of her books as it no longer held true for her. Ouch.

As you might imagine, this development sent me into a tailspin. Although Doreen’s beliefs are, frankly, none of my business, she’s someone I’ve looked to for guidance over the years, so her dramatic transformation from the platform of independent, heart-centred spirituality to judgement-based organised religion has shaken me to the core. If the person who created the program that taught me how to communicate with angels no longer believes in nor advocates that framework, where does that leave me (and the millions of others who’ve felt resonance with her principles over the past 20 or so years)? Was my Angel Intuitive certificate even valid? How could I, in good conscience, continue to use angel cards that have effectively been discredited?

As my lightworker pals pointed out to me last week (thank you to everyone who I turned to for advice!), Doreen did not discover angels herself nor invent the ability to channel them – these have been present for time immemorial. Doreen was merely one of many (prominent) mouthpieces for the angelic realm, and her growing discomfort with the new age world does not erode anyone else’s connection to it.

After some serious soul-searching, I’ve concluded Doreen’s conversion doesn’t change anything for me, and here’s why: the strength and integrity of my connection to the spiritual realm. I know that connection be legit from the countless signs I’ve experienced from the Universe over the years. The flow of emails and messages from clients and random social media followers whom my readings have helped. And a deep knowingness inside me that can’t be quantified. For me, it all comes back to this: many people find my messages helpful – not all people, of course… spirituality is not for everyone (including, now, one of its loudest champions lol) – and, in an often bleak and hostile world, that is reason enough to keep doing it.

I am grateful to Doreen for creating an angel-communication program which has informed my spiritual journey, but my continued progression on that path is not contingent on her teachings. I'm also thankful she was guided to create so many decks of angel cards which give shape, colour and nuances to the messages I channel. But my work and my connection are, ultimately, very much my own. I have forged my own path. There are plenty of Doreen’s teachings and principles I have rejected over the years or adapted to fit what resonated for me (her work with mermaids, unicorns and dolphins, for example, didn't appeal to me, although I know others felt a connection with it, and her judgement of people who enjoy coffee and even moderate intakes of alcohol didn’t exactly find favour). I've unfollowed her across all media channels now, but I wish her well on her new path. 

There’s a valuable lesson from all this. Even though many spiritual leaders will inspire, uplift and stir awakenings within us, we must be very careful to always follow the guidance of our own intuition. I know this event has caused a deep rupture in the spiritual community, but I hope those who are feeling confused will respond as I have – with an honest examination of our truths, and a renewed understanding of the need to keep marching to the beat of our own drum. Blindly following people will only create a world full of sheep, and that's the last thing the planet needs right now. 

What do you believe in? My quest for faith without religion

One of my favourite advice columns in Cheryl Strayed’s Dear Sugar series was her response to a letter from a woman questioning the existence of God. Her six-month-old daughter had, against the odds, survived surgery to remove a brain tumour, and a lot of people had been praying for her (agnostic) family. The woman told Cheryl that the terrifying event had left her wondering whether there was such thing as God, and if so, had he saved her daughter’s life? But if God existed, she wondered, why had he let her daughter get sick in the first place? Strayed’s reply was, as always, shoulder-droppingly moving.

“What if you allowed your God to exist in the simple words of compassion others offer to you? What if faith is the way it feels to lay your hand on your daughter’s sacred body? What if the greatest beauty of the day is the shaft of sunlight through your window? What if the worst thing happened and you rose anyway?”

The reason I love this passage so much is because it beautifully sums up what religion means to me – not the dedication to please a supernatural bearded man who condemns and judges, but the innate compulsion to honour the powerful spirit of love that exists around us and within us. Something we can channel to give us strength, something that inspires us to be more and give more, something reflected in the extraordinary beauty of nature, something that serves as a life raft when we are adrift in stormy seas. Something vastly more powerful than we could possibly imagine.

It’s sometimes difficult for people to understand how I can believe in angels and in God yet not conform to any church-based faith. It’s sometimes difficult for me to explain this.

I realise everyone has their own views on religion, and I don’t wish to force my views on anyone. I totally understand that there are all sorts of reasons institutional religion appeals to people – a sense of certainty, for example. I respect everyone’s right to determine their own values and faith; this is simply the expression of what feels true for me. To borrow another Cheryl quote: “My truth is not a condemnation of yours.”

Last week I went to a number of sessions at the always-brilliant Sydney Writer’s Festival; one of the standouts for me was social researcher Hugh Mackay’s talk entitled Finding Meaning Without Religion.

Around two-thirds of Australians say we believe in God or some ‘higher power’, but fewer than one in 10 of us attend church weekly. To me, that indicates that people are searching for spirituality in their lives without pledging allegiance to a church’s definition. We’re individually searching our hearts for what’s meaningful to each of us. I suspect for many people that search leads not to stories in ancient lands and gardens, but – as Strayed so eloquently put it – the “way it feels to lay your hand on your daughter’s sacred body”.  Or as the Dalai Lama says simply: “My religion is kindness.”

What being religious, or spiritual-but-not-religious, gives us is a sort of roadmap – albeit sketchy – to navigate this confusing and sometimes bitterly unfair world. It gives us hope and it gives us meaning. Essentially, religion is people putting their faith in something larger than themselves.

If you find that larger thing in scriptures, hymns, rituals and visits to religious buildings, that’s wonderful. If you don’t, Hugh suggests you look for your own sense of meaning “in the eyes of the people who love you, or who are at least prepared to put up with you” (lol). There’s a Maori proverb from my native New Zealand which says: He aha te mea nui o te ao. He tangata, he tangata, he tangata. That means: What is the most important thing in the world? It is people, it is people, it is people.

I’m paraphrasing here, but what Hugh is suggesting is we place our faith in the ties that bind us and the love we have for each other. That is something both tangible and intangible. We often think of religion in terms of salvation and redemption, yet when you look back to the darkest periods of your life, who saved you and who helped you find redemption? I’d wager it was the people who love you.

I’m not at all saying institutional religion is invalid, I’m simply saying that in my personal experience, matters of faith are best reduced to a framework of love and compassion. I find that in the divine, but I also find it expressed through the people around me.

Hugh explains: “It’s in our DNA to be cooperative and to form community. The way we form community is to behave in kind, tolerant and respectful ways towards each other.” Instead of what religion you belong to, he wants to know: “What kind of world are you dreaming of? And how does this affect the way you go about your life and treat other people?” Perhaps this is what Ram Dass was getting at when he suggested we “treat everyone we meet as God in drag”.

Those questions, Hugh says, are far more important that what box you tick in the religion question on your census.