222

 

Created by Pauline in Canva

What do you feel when you realize you are late or have absolutely missed an appointment? For me, who has always been a stickler for arriving early or at least on time, this idea of being late, after all these years of personal growth, still creates a momentary sense of panic.

For me, what did it just now is that I was scheduled to write something for today, 3/24/26, here at Talking to Spirit.com.

I didn’t do it. So, I’m doing it now. It won’t hit at 2:22 am, like I generally schedule my articles to publish, but more around 8:30 am.

There is a story behind me using 2:22 am as the time I publish. It’s because 222 symbolizes a magic number for me. Is it really magic? I don’t know, but it sure was a good signpost for me in the early days, back when I was trying to learn how to be a psychic channel.

What happened was I had overdosed on a bunch of Stephen King books. The reason for this was that I had recently discovered what a terrific writer he was. I had shied away from anything he wrote or produced for years, thinking he was too scary for me. Yes, I realize that was stupid, but it’s what I did.

I had just quit my job after having been there for three years because I’d just finished writing a novel that had taken me exactly that long to write. In fact, as I accepted the job, I had this dismaying feeling in the pit of my stomach that I was going to continue to bore people to tears with my stories of “Someday I’m Going to Write a Book”. Even I was getting embarrassed with the line. Granted, it was an ice breaker at parties and things like that, but come on. Couldn’t I find something better to talk about? Besides that. Where was this book?

So, with that thought, I began writing. I’ve still got a spiral-bound copy of that book here in the house. Come to think of it, the original manuscript is likely under the bed. Didn’t I try to publish it? Of course I did. This was back in the day, when people bought their books at book stores, before Kindle was available, and people read books on their computers, tablets, and phones. Old-fashioned send it in over the transom and get rejected a couple of months later. Meanwhile, the writer sits at home worrying about whether her baby book got lost in the slush pile at some publishing house. I also didn’t have an agent, so it was just me. I sent that book over an 18-month period of time to seven or eight publishers, one at a time, until I finally gave up.

Meanwhile, during that time, I didn’t write. Which was hard too. I’d been brought up to eat everything on my plate before I could have dessert. I did that with my book. I wouldn’t allow myself to write while I was waiting to see what the fate of my book was going to be.

All that happened after the 222 incident, so in this case, you might say my story has jumped the rails. A little bit.

It was after I’d quit my job, after I’d written that novel. It was a swashbuckling romance, mystery, everything you’d want to read all rolled up in one. An embarrassment that never got published, but was such an important step in becoming a writer for me.

I caught a cold a few months after I’d quit my job because now, I was a writer. It was a bad summer cold, but it was strange because I’d hardly ever been sick as an adult. Granted, there were days when I wouldn’t allow myself to take a sick day, first of all because that was how I’d been raised, and secondly, my work would pile up, and once I got back to work, it would be a mountain of stuff to dig through.

I had a sense that the timing of that bad summer cold was deliberate. Like my body and soul agreed it was time for Pauline to stop and to redirect her efforts in some other way. I’d discount that reasoning and then, been drawn back to it over and over again. I mean, the timing was just so odd.

So, it was such a strange and horrible cold that lasted almost a month. I coughed and sneezed. I slept during the day and spent my nights out on the couch in the living room so as to not disturb my husband. What to do? I had the idea to get myself to the library to check out some Stephen King books. The first book I’d read had not been all that long before. It was The Stand, a huge book that took him 12 years to write. The thing I was most impressed with was how Stephen King takes ordinary characters and makes them into heroes. That appealed to me. An ordinary hero. It took me three days to read that book. I’m talking about a book that is at least three inches thick. I went into the library after work on a Friday to find a big fat book that I could read over the weekend. That was my only requirement. That it was a big fat book.

The first opportunity I had, even though I was still sick, I remember shielding my face from others, I climbed on board a bus and traveled to our library. Now, this was back in 1991, I think, and many years before we had Covid among us. I did not have a face mask, and people accepted sick people amongst their ranks in those days. I made that trip three times over the next few weeks, coming home with a huge armful of books each time. I can remember telling people I’d brought home 35 pounds of Stephen King books at a time. I don’t know how much they weighed. Even in those days, I would take literary license with things. It was probably six or seven books at a time. Anyway, I read them one after the other into the night.

I enjoyed the heck out of those books. I became a fan of Stephen King overnight. But I also started having strange things happen. Like before I read, “It” I saw a clown in full makeup climbing the stairs to our apartment. Not a real clown. It was an imaginary clown. Three days later, I read “It” and realized I’d seen Pennywise the clown coming up our steps. In another vision, I also saw a lady. She didn’t look like me, but I knew she was me. She wore a suit coat and a skirt, a nice business ensemble. I think it was a heathery blue. She climbed our front steps, hand over hand on the railing, looking me directly in the eye as she approached. At the time, for each vision, I was sleeping on the couch in our living room.

Then, the other odd stuff started happening. I saw 222 everywhere. The number was nothing special to me at the time; I just kept seeing it. It was on the microwave. I’d see it on the clock. I’d be startled to see it on the page of the book I was reading. I wrote a check for $22.20 at the grocery store (this was in the days before debit cards had been invented). It was so strange that I called my sister and told her about it. The next afternoon, she called me back to say she’d just seen the revolving time and temperature clock in her bank’s parking lot. It showed the time as 2:22 pm.

I was so concerned; I went off to a used book store to their psychic/spiritual section. I saw a book titled ESP by Colin Wilson. I opened it at random and read that normal people can have extrasensory episodes. Well, maybe that explained it.

I redoubled my efforts to channel, and in February 1993, I began to channel. I later found out that sometimes 222 is considered to be a number from the universe that means you are on your spiritual path. And I figure that’s what it was. It all finally made sense. To this day I will still see 222 occasionally.

So, from not having an article to having one at exactly 8:30 am.

Thanks for reading. I appreciate the support. I’ve listed a bunch of places where I am on the internet.  

 

🌺 Pauline Evanosky

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