Faith is to believe what you do not see; the reward of this faith is to see what you believe.  -- St. Augustine

In the not so distant past, I went to visit one of my favorite cemeteries in Pirita.  I'd only been there once before, but that was accompanied by a friend who simply pointed out a few plots before we left.  This time, I went alone of my own initiative.  I had returned because during my visit years before, I experienced a mysterious energy and calmness that drew me back.

The Pirita district lies within Tallinn’s boundaries, only a 10 - 15 minutes by bus from this Estonian capital. When you discover Pirita, you nearly forget the bustle of Tallinn.  You're suddenly embraced by a dense, pine forest, refreshing sea air and, a renewing peace and tranquility. It's a place that has the power to enable you to stand back and perceive your life in different ways.

So, I was drawn to explore Tallinn's famous cemetery, Metsakalmistu, officially opened in 1939. Among its most famous permanent residents are Estonia’s first president, Konstantin Päts, writers Lydia Koidula and Anton-Hansen Tammsaare, chess player Paul Keres, composer Raimond Valgre and singer Georg Ots. At the time of my second visit, I wasn't especially interested in visiting celebrity graves, but I had heard these people had been buried in the idyllic place.

I rode an empty bus from another era. I was the only passenger to exit across from the cemetery. Apart from that, a peasant woman in simple clothes and kerchief caught my attention. She stood motionless beside a folding white table covered in candles. I assumed she was the caretaker's wife. A small, wooden home stood closeby. I smiled at her plump, solemn face and crossed the unpaved street to enter the cemetery grounds. I carried no map. I had no planned itinerary. I simply intended to stroll and explore. The different levels of plots fascinated me with their small sets of steps. The setting reminded me of an Escher painting or a kind of dream. As birds sang and fluttered above, I felt surrounded by an enchanted garden full of life.

Looking back, what was rather extraordinary was how I felt drawn in a certain direction. My legs were receptive. I became open to new kinds of awareness and no other people were in sight.   I gazed up at the pine roof and heard the wind whispering things I couldn't quite make out. Still moving forward, I admired epitaphs and unique, stone masonry. I also passed a brick structure and approached an area of plots sheltered behind it.  A sign indicated these people were recognized by government for their contributions to society.  

A stronger pull drew me to walk through the rows to bring me face to face with the tombstone of a man I realized was my great grandfather.  I hadn't known he was buried there.  I remembered having been told that he was an Olympic soccer coach and much respected. Just then, I noticed a candle flickering out by my feet. I wondered who had placed it there since my great grandfather had died nearly 30 years before.

My instinct was to retrace my steps to the lady with the folding table.  She stood precisely where I had seen her before.  I chose one of her largest, white candles, paid her and returned to my great grandfather's grave.  I stared at it for a while and listened to silence before I took a photo.

Perhaps this experience deepened my relationship with a spiritual side that strengthens my inner guidance.  I pay closer attention to my dreams and often gain new insight into myself. Over time, I've learned the more I recognize the power of my dreams in waking life, the more willing I am to stop looking at circumstances logically. We can decide what is possible by way of thoughts and feelings.Some people claim to only believe what they see. My own life teaches me that believing enables me to see the positive results of what I attract.