Vade Mecum: An Always-Present Guide to Your Divine Path

By Carla Camins Macapinlac

Ever feel like you missed a turn in the road?

If you were given a magical handbook with your name on it, containing divinely generated guidance specifically for you, would you want to know what it contains? What if this guidebook is meant to help you live your best life?

Through mystical yet true stories, practical examples, and tools, Vade Mecum will help you:

• Understand that you are guided at all times, sometimes in unbelievably mysterious yet magical ways.
• Realize that when you tap into this guidance, struggle and doubt become unnecessary.
• Discover how to live your life on purpose and in flow.

Never miss another turn in your road again. Open Vade Mecum and start your guided journey to live as your bold, best self.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Mar 24, 2021
• ISBN: 9781982263683

Carla Camins Macapinlac

Carla Camins Macapinlac, the founder of Vade Mecum, LLC, is an author, Reiki Master, and intuitive life coach for those seeking to follow their divine path. After a successful thirty-year career in healthcare, she walked away from the corporate world to embrace a deeper calling. Through group workshops, personal coaching, and energy healing, Carla uses her intuitive gifts to help others tap into their own intuitive guidance system and live as the bold architects of their lives.

Book preview

Copyright © 2021 Carla Camins Macapinlac.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means,

graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by

any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author

except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This book is a work of non-fiction. Unless otherwise noted, the author and the publisher

make no explicit guarantees as to the accuracy of the information contained in this book

and in some cases, names of people and places have been altered to protect their privacy.

Balboa Press

A Division of Hay House

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.balboapress.com

844-682-1282

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in

this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views

expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the

views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use

of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical

problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The

intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you

in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any

of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right,

the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are

models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Front Cover Art Image Created by

Kiko Mera / artkiko.com / IG @artkiko

ISBN: 978-1-9822-6370-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-9822-6369-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-9822-6368-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2021906072

Balboa Press rev. date:  03/23/2021

To Anne.

We could never have predicted that your curious tale

would open a portal of synchronicity and magic. I suppose

time will tell if we’ve finally solved the mystery.

Contents

Introduction

Part I:   The Vade Mecum Mystery

Chapter 1     Anne

Chapter 2     Eight Years Later

Chapter 3     15th Century Germany

Chapter 4     Go with Me

Part II:   Patterns

Chapter 5     Repeating Numbers

Chapter 6     Paris and Barcelona

Chapter 7     Synchronicity

Chapter 8     Dreams, Visions, Messages

Part III:   From Beyond the Veil

Chapter 9     The Lady in the Cabin

Chapter 10   Reaching Through the Veil

Chapter 11   Help When Needed

Chapter 12   Shadows

Chapter 13   Remnants

Part IV:   Our True Nature

Chapter 14   Existential Dilemma of a Five-Year-Old

Chapter 15   Cosmic Destiny?

Chapter 16   Vibrational Frequency

Chapter 17   Here, There, and Everywhere

Part V:   Inner Guidance

Chapter 18   Psychic Guidance

Chapter 19   That Nagging Feeling

Chapter 20   Let it Flow

Part VI:   Divine Guidance

Chapter 21   Recognizing the Signs

Chapter 22   Divination

Chapter 23   Energy Healing

Chapter 24   Raising Your Vibration

Chapter 25   Learning to Use the Signs

Conclusion

Acknowledgements

ORIGIN OF VADE MECUM

First recorded in 1620–30, vade mecum is from

Latin vāde mēcum literally, go with me

(source: Dictionary.com)

vade mecum noun

/ˌvɑdi ˈmeɪkəm/

a book or written guide which you keep with you

all the time, because you find it helpful

(source: OxfordLearnersDictionaries.com)

Author’s Note: Historically, a vade mecum is a guidebook that you physically carry with you, often in a deep pocket, for reference. In the pages that follow, you will discover that guidance is always present to you. It goes with you in more ways than you might imagine.

Miracles come in moments. Be ready and willing.

― Wayne Dyer

Introduction

V ade mecum. It’s a Latin term I had not come across until that Autumn day in 2003 when my friend, Anne, came over to my house. We spent an entire afternoon on the floor of my living room, preferring to sit on the couch cushions instead of the couches, drinking wine, and chatting nonstop. We talked about anything and everything – from the silly and mundane to the deep and philosophical.

Anne casually asked me if I was familiar with the term. I replied that I was not, and in fact, had never heard of it before. She then began to tell me about her strange encounter with this arcane phrase on at least two separate occasions that she could remember.

The first instance was in a dream. She had dreamt about a tall, thin man dressed in leather, with long black hair and a somewhat pale, goth look to him. The man approached her. She was a teenager in her dream and was afraid of the man because he looked quite rough. The man held out his hand to her and said, Vade mecum. Emblazoned on his palm was a symbol that began to glow.

Anne does not remember what the symbol looked like, and these were the only details she could recall from the dream.

Her second encounter with vade mecum was more perplexing. Several months, maybe even a year or two later, Anne was standing outside a gym waiting for her boyfriend (now husband) to finish working out when a homeless man started talking to her. He was mostly muttering nonsense (Anne recalled him saying something about toothpaste). However, at one point, he looked her right in the eyes and said, Vade mecum. Does that mean anything to you?

This is the extent of Anne’s recollection of these two events.

Now, these two incidents in themselves are enough to puzzle anyone. I certainly thought they were bizarre, and neither Anne nor I could find an explanation behind these occurrences. It was not uncommon for us to talk about strange dreams, sleep paralysis, astral travel, ghostly encounters, and other subjects in the realm of the mysterious. I was thirty-five years old at the time and had already had a few paranormal experiences in my life. Anne was one of the few people with whom I felt comfortable sharing such stories.

I’ve revealed some of my unusual experiences to family members and friends over the years, partly because I needed to convince myself that I was not going crazy. Yet I never considered documenting these incidents, much less publishing even a fraction of them in a book for strangers to read (and possibly scoff at). What has compelled me to do so now is that Anne’s experiences with vade mecum did not end there. On the contrary, that day was simply the beginning of a bizarre series of events that seemed to signal my deeper connection with Anne and this obscure Latin phrase.

You see, the very evening after Anne told me these two stories, I sent her a message, incredulous at what I had found in my email inbox. Anne had left my house later in the afternoon; that evening, as I was reading my email, I opened my Word of the Day subscription. Although I had never previously encountered the term in my thirty-five years, suddenly there it was.

Vade mecum.

It was the Word of the Day on the same day Anne told me about her experiences. She was not aware of this until I sent her my message.

Bizarre? Yes. Coincidence? Maybe. If that were the end of our vade mecum tale. However, in the sixteen years that have since passed, more odd encounters with vade mecum have transpired. Always in connection with Anne. And each one adding to the mystery.

When I began writing this book, it was mainly a desire to chronicle this curious case and understand the meaning behind this and numerous other extraordinary experiences I have had throughout my life. Some of these have remained ever mysterious and unexplained for many years. Slowly, however, a purpose started to emerge as I discovered patterns connecting my stories. I realize now that this isn’t merely a retelling of peculiar happenings. It’s an invitation. An invitation for you to see what I see: the signs and all the different ways that the universe speaks to us. These are guideposts along our way. The truth is, we all have an always-present guide to our divine path. Our own vade mecum.

"Mystery creates wonder and wonder is the

basis of man’s desire to understand."

― Neil Armstrong

PART I

The Vade Mecum Mystery

43007.png

Anne

A nne is one of those rare friends with whom I never seemed to run out of things to discuss. We met through mutual friends, colleagues of my husband, Joey, at the healthcare organization where we both worked for many years. We quickly grew into a close circle of co-workers, spouses, and significant others, then in our twenties and thirties.

In those days, before any of us had children, Joey and I routinely hosted parties at our home. A Halloween cocktail party with costumes required (he and I dressed like characters from the movie, Kill Bill). The occasional game night or poker tournament. And quite a few barbecues and pool parties in the spring and summer. Our group gradually grew each year as new friends and acquaintances joined in. I didn’t realize how often we got together back then until an older neighbor once referred to our home as the party house. Whoops. I wonder how much of a disturbance we caused in our usually quiet neighborhood. Those long afternoons always stretched into the late evenings. By then we were gorged from our gluttonous indulgence in juicy, well-marbled brisket smoked overnight in pecan and cherry wood; tender beef and pork ribs slathered with zesty homemade barbecue sauce; spicy Texas chili slow-cooked for four hours; fiery, buffalo chicken wings dripping with tangy sauce; sweet corn and vegetables roasted on the grill; handmade fruit pies, tarte Tatin, and cream puffs; handcrafted ice cream; and other delectable fare that our group of gourmands whipped up at every occasion. And libations. Ah, yes, the libations.

We would start with light, fruity champagne or refreshing summer cocktails like Moscow mules and Negronis. We always had our favorite red wines from California wine country, though some of us were partial to the wines of France. A Spanish rioja would join the selection now and then. There was smoky, single malt whiskey that frequently prompted a tasting comparison of various Scotch and Japanese whiskies. You can imagine why our gatherings were consistently boisterous. We satiated ourselves like hedonists. Sometimes in excess; well, often in excess. But there was always the intoxicating aroma of dark-roasted coffee brewing as the evening wound down, to wake us up and ensure that no one drove home unless they could walk a straight line. For those who were still slurring their words by the end of the evening, there was always a handy airbed for the night.

Once, we decided to all chip in for a group purchase of a pound of Kopi Luwak beans, or civet¹ coffee, which we brewed during a party. Kopi Luwak, one of the most expensive coffees in the world, is made from coffee beans that are excreted whole by Asian palm civets after ingesting the coffee cherries. The beans are collected from the civet droppings, then washed and roasted. In case you are wondering, we all agreed the brewed coffee was indeed tasty, although there was a faint odor reminiscent of dung as it was brewing. I know, not particularly appetizing. But we were an adventurous bunch.

A few years into our friendship, a handful of us (Anne and I included) decided to form a writer’s group. Some of us had jobs that involve writing, others wrote as a hobby, but we would meet once a month or so like the earnest, aspiring writers that we were, and share our written work. Bolstered by wine and food, of course. It was a secure and welcoming space for soliciting feedback and gaining valuable insight without the pressure of having to produce written work in a specific style or subject. We shared whatever writing project we were involved in, which was an assortment of novels, essays, poems, short stories, and science fiction. Each person took a turn reading their work while others listened then contributed their thoughts and helpful input.

What I shared was my poetry; new poems I had written, or older ones I wanted to refine. When I wasn’t feeling too inspired, I would search for an old, forgotten piece that I once abandoned, in frustration, for another day. Revisiting these forsaken ones proved fruitful, as I knew I had to whip them into good enough shape to share. More importantly, I was rewarded with useful comments for further revision. I started writing poetry when I was thirteen years old, and throughout my life, it has been my means for processing complex thoughts and emotions. At our writer’s meetings, rather than reading my work out loud, I opted to hand out my typewritten poetry so that others could read my work in silence. I have always felt that poetry is very personal, and that one’s appreciation for it is subjectively influenced by their sensory experience. I wanted my fellow writers to