By Allison Batty-Capps, LMFT, Wellness Coach, Spiritual Mentor, Reiki Master, and author of The Divine Within: Healing Ourselves to Heal the World

Have you ever had an experience that felt impossible to explain?

Perhaps it happened during meditation.

Maybe it was a dream that felt more real than waking life.

Perhaps you sensed the presence of someone who had passed away, received an intuitive insight that later proved meaningful, or experienced an overwhelming feeling of love while sitting quietly in nature.

Experiences like these have existed throughout human history. Every spiritual tradition contains stories of visions, mystical encounters, profound moments of insight, and experiences that seem to stretch beyond ordinary consciousness.

But once they happen, another question often emerges:

What do I do with this?

Do I dismiss it as imagination?

Do I believe it literally?

Do I tell other people?

Do I build my life around it?

Or is there another way to hold profound spiritual experiences—one that honors both mystery and discernment?

These are questions I've spent many years exploring, not only as a therapist and spiritual mentor, but as someone who has had my own deeply meaningful spiritual experiences.

I don't believe I have definitive answers.

But I do believe these are questions worth asking.

A Meditation That Stayed With Me

Not long ago, I was meditating when something unexpected happened.

As I sat quietly, I felt an extraordinary sense of love radiating through my heart.

It wasn't simply an emotion.

It felt expansive.

Almost limitless.

For just a moment, I noticed an old impulse arise—the desire to leave my body and remain in that beautiful experience.

But something inside me did something different.

Instead of moving away from my humanity, I imagined that love flowing downward into the earth while remaining connected to something greater than myself.

I wanted to ground it.

As I continued sitting, a vision emerged.

I saw people walking toward me one by one.

As they approached, I gently placed my hands on them, and they were healed.

Then another thought arose:

"Someday you will do as Yeshua did—but not until you and the world are ready."

I want to be very clear.

I don't know exactly what happened.

I don't know whether that experience was symbolic.

Literal.

Psychological.

Spiritual.

A combination of all of those.

Or something I don't yet understand.

And honestly…

That isn't what interested me most.

The Question That Changed Everything

Years ago, after an experience like this, I probably would have become consumed by trying to understand exactly what it meant.

I would have searched endlessly.

Read books.

Asked teachers.

Looked for confirmation.

Wanted certainty.

This time something entirely different happened.

Instead of asking,

"Was this objectively true?"

I found myself asking,

"How do I stay grounded while holding this experience?"

That question changed everything.

Because I have learned that profound experiences don't always require immediate conclusions.

Sometimes they invite slower wisdom.

When Spiritual Experiences Become Overwhelming

Part of why I approach these experiences differently today comes from my own history.

In 2008, I experienced what I describe as a profound spiritual awakening.

At the same time, my life became incredibly destabilized.

Questions about God.

Consciousness.

Trauma.

Healing.

Reality.

Identity.

Meaning.

Everything arrived all at once.

I desperately wanted to understand every experience immediately.

I believed that if I could just interpret every symbol correctly, I would finally feel secure.

Instead, I exhausted myself trying to turn mystery into certainty.

Looking back, I don't think my mistake was having spiritual experiences.

I think my mistake was believing I had to explain all of them right away.

Healing eventually taught me something much more valuable.

Sometimes uncertainty is healthier than premature certainty.

What Psychology and Neuroscience Teach Us About Spiritual Experiences

One of the reasons I love studying both psychology and spirituality is that each offers something the other sometimes overlooks.

Psychology reminds us that every experience—including mystical ones—passes through a human nervous system.

Our brains are constantly organizing:

• memories
• emotions
• bodily sensations
• beliefs
• expectations
• culture
• relationships

into coherent meaning.

Neuroscience increasingly suggests that human beings are naturally capable of mystical experiences.

Rather than invalidating spirituality, I find this fascinating.

It reminds me that our nervous systems are incredibly complex.

This means that whenever I have a spiritual experience, I try to remember two truths simultaneously:

The experience may be deeply meaningful.

And…

My interpretation of the experience may continue evolving over time.

Holding both truths protects me from dismissing mystery while also protecting me from becoming overly certain about things I cannot fully know.

Discernment Isn't the Opposite of Faith

Sometimes people worry that questioning a spiritual experience means lacking faith.

I no longer see it that way.

To me, discernment is an act of reverence.

It says:

"I respect this experience enough not to rush to conclusions."

Discernment allows mystery to remain alive.

It gives experiences room to mature.

Just as fruit ripens slowly, perhaps wisdom does too.

I've found that the most meaningful spiritual experiences often reveal their significance gradually.

Sometimes over years.

Not hours.

A Different Question

Over time, I've found myself asking a completely different question after meaningful experiences.

Instead of asking:

"What did this mean?"

I ask:

"Who is this experience inviting me to become?"

That question feels much more grounding.

Because regardless of whether the experience was symbolic, neurological, spiritual, or all three, it still has the potential to shape how I live.

As I reflected on my meditation, I noticed something.

The invitation remained exactly the same regardless of how I interpreted it.

Become more loving.

Become more humble.

Become more compassionate.

Become someone whose presence helps reduce suffering.

Those invitations feel valuable whether the vision came from God, my unconscious mind, or somewhere beyond what I currently understand.

Extraordinary Experiences Don't Make Us Extraordinary

One lesson has become increasingly important to me.

Years ago, I unconsciously believed that extraordinary experiences somehow made someone spiritually advanced.

Today I see things differently.

The people who inspire me most are rarely those with the most remarkable stories.

They're the people whose presence feels safe.

Whose humility creates trust.

Whose compassion helps others breathe a little easier.

Whose integrity remains steady when no one is watching.

Maybe spirituality isn't about becoming someone extraordinary.

Maybe it's about becoming extraordinarily present.

Spiritual Experiences and Ego

One thing I've learned to watch carefully is what happens inside me after profound experiences.

Do they make me feel more connected?

Or more separate?

More compassionate?

Or more special?

More curious?

Or more certain?

Because I have noticed that spiritual experiences can be interpreted in ways that either soften the ego—or strengthen it.

One interpretation says:

"I've had an experience that proves I'm different."

Another says:

"I've had an experience that invites me to love more deeply."

Those feel like very different paths.

Personally, I hope to continue choosing the second.

Mystery Has Become a Friend

One of the greatest gifts of healing has been becoming comfortable saying:

"I don't know."

Not because nothing is true.

But because reality appears far more mysterious than I once imagined.

I no longer feel the same urgency to explain every intuition.

Every dream.

Every coincidence.

Every mystical experience.

Some experiences seem content to remain mysterious.

Perhaps mystery itself has something to teach us.

Maybe not everything beautiful needs to become certainty.

Integration Matters More Than Interpretation

As both a therapist and spiritual mentor, I've become less interested in helping people determine whether their experiences were objectively supernatural.

I'm much more interested in helping them integrate those experiences wisely.

Because ultimately, the question isn't simply:

"What happened?"

The deeper question is:

"How does this change the way I live?"

Does it help someone become:

• kinder?
• more compassionate?
• more grounded?
• more honest?
• more responsible?
• more curious?
• more capable of loving themselves and others?

If so, then I believe something deeply meaningful has already occurred.

Becoming a Safe Presence

The older I become, the less I believe spirituality is about collecting extraordinary experiences.

Instead, I think it's about becoming an extraordinary presence.

Someone whose nervous system has developed enough safety that others begin to feel safer simply by being around them.

Someone who can remain present during another person's grief without needing to fix it.

Someone who can sit with uncertainty without collapsing into fear.

Someone whose curiosity becomes stronger than their need for certainty.

Perhaps that is one of the deepest forms of healing.

Questions for Reflection

As you reflect on your own spiritual journey, I invite you to gently consider:

• Have you ever had a spiritual or mystical experience that changed you?
• How did you interpret it?
• Did you immediately seek certainty, or were you able to stay curious?
• Did the experience help you become more compassionate?
• More humble?
• More grounded?
• More loving?
• Who might your deepest experiences be inviting you to become?

There are no right answers.

Only opportunities for deeper awareness.

Continue the Conversation

If these questions resonate with you, you're not alone.

My work lives at the intersection of psychology, neuroscience, trauma healing, and spirituality because I believe all four have something valuable to contribute to our understanding of what it means to be fully human.

If you'd like to explore these ideas more deeply, I invite you to read my book, The Divine Within: Healing Ourselves to Heal the World, where I explore how healing our nervous systems, cultivating self-compassion, and engaging spiritual practices can help us become more grounded, loving, and connected.

If you're looking for personalized support, I also work with individuals as a licensed therapist, wellness coach, and spiritual mentor. Together, we explore spiritual experiences with both openness and discernment—without dismissing mystery or losing touch with our humanity.

You can learn more about my work at www.blossomingheartwellness.com.

My hope is never to tell you what your experiences mean.

My hope is to create a space where you can explore them with curiosity, humility, and compassion, trusting that perhaps the deepest spiritual experiences are not those that make us feel extraordinary—but those that gently invite us to become more loving, more grounded, and more fully ourselves.

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