Wednesday, 12 November 2014

A Haunted House

Living in a Haunted House

“Why are you in my space?” she asks with a hissizzle to the top right of my head.

“Its not your space, its my space.”
I reply, unsure if she means the building or the mind-space.
If we are sharing a telepathic link then she will hear it in her mind, me in mine, which only goes to show that Mind is not a personal thing but a place which anyone whose senses are functional is capable of accessing, a shared space.

We both think in similitude that the other one is broken.

“You are dead.”
I explain. Not for the first time.

“But I did not do anything wrong!” she exclaims in reply.

To my perceptions this is example of how she is broken.

I have not at this point attempted to see it from her point of view, which is my next step.

She has been floating around me today ever since I returned home with my four year old boy and heard her as I unlocked the front door, greedily think out loud; “Ah! Now I can feed.”

At which time I put frankincense oil on myself and on my son as a ward to protect us. He has just had a shower which means I need to put more of it on him, after he falls asleep because I have just put him to bed for the night. I have also lit some incense which various tradition s regard as either a ward or as food for the disembodied spirits. It is nag champa, it keeps going out so there are half-used nag champ sticks all around the house. It comes dry from the packet but two days later it is too damp to re-light it, which says a lot about the humidity at this time of year, autumn into winter, in south Wales where it rains most days.

I do not know if the spirit knows she is dead. Whenever I try to explain it to her, using varying degrees of tact or blatancy, she disappears. She does not yet want to come to terms with it. I have lived here for five years, this has been going on for at least that long. She was the owner of the house; she willed it to her four sons who are my landlords through an agent. The conditions of the will are that the house cannot be sold for four hundred years, it is to remain in their family. I can quit imagine she will still be in it in three hundred and ninety odd years from now. I really do not intend to stay here myself for that duration.

She cannot accept that she is dead because to her logic, she can only be dead as a result of her having done something wrong. She feels that I am pushing her out of her rightful space. I have had to struggle with her to assert myself as having a right to be here at all, as the dominant one in this relationship simply because I know the truth of it, that I am inhabiting a living body which exists in time while she has had her time and is now passed on but has for whatever reason, not passed over. It is this reason that I am trying to ascertain and reasoning with her is not easy.

She certainly is hostile toward other women who have lived here, namely my sons mother who has now moved on, largely due to the intervention of this old witch in our relationship. The crazy old ghost knows a lot of variations of the same tricks, essentially mental and emotional control. As an observer I am learning a lot from this experience.

It is different with men, she has a different attitude toward men. These old Welsh methodists are stubborn and ill equipped to deal with the reality of what happens after the body dies and the soul goes elsewhere. Most of the spirits I have given counselling to and helped to pass over in the past few decades of my life as an active spiritualist, they have been methodists because that is the era of history I am living in, several generations after that accursed religion was the main indoctrination of the culture in this part of the world. And it is wrong, which is why it left so many broken souls behind.

Like so many broken souls, she is like a child; frightened or tantrums or content and minding her own business, occasionally curious. These types of spirits do appear to feed on human energy; I can remember a little more of the doorstep conversation now.

“Well you are not feeding off me or my boy.”
I replied.

“It’s only a little bit.” She assured me.

“It is not yours though.”

No answer; I went straight for the frankincense.

The state of mind and perception, the energy-alignment, involved with mediumship is different from that which is required of normal conversational small-talk by the society of the living. I very often cannot communicate about my spiritual work simply because I forget about it when I am distracted by other peoples streams of consciousness. And yes, they are distractions rather than all-important, worth saying in the first place. Most real meaningful communication requires no words.

Often it is this distraction which alerts me to the spirits in the first place, in exactly the same way a spider in the center of its precision-balanced web is alerted to anything happening anyplace on its web. Those are not just pretty patterns, those webs are weights and counterweights. Spiders ears are in their knees; the web is an amplifier of its senses, very finely attuned to pick up vibrational changes in its environment. And spirits exist as vibrational changes. Spiders are aware multi-dimensionally.

Not much else is happening tonight so there is not really very much more of this anecdote to write about at this time. It is like this once a week, once a fortnight. I am aware of her moving about most days I am here, my being sensitive enough to pinpoint locate her when she is active. I have seen her and some other spirits, seeing them as orbs on quite a few occasions. There is spirit space here, the house is a portal. One spiritualist, a clairvoyant whereas I am clair-audient, saw her in human form. I have seen that a few times also, quite a few people have done who have visited this house. 

I am using the term spirit and soul interchangeably. Technically there is a difference, a spirit is a life-force energy of any nature while a soul is specifically a mammalian spectrum transmigratory spirit. It might include reptiles also but they are generally different enough that we cannot communicate with them in quite the same way, they are a different spectrum. Tree spirits appear closer to mammals than are reptiles because of their bonding nature. The same souls can incarnate into or inhabit bodies of different animals. Not all spirits are from the Darwinian evolutionary tree. We use generalisations for sake of an easy discourse.

I am considering that it is possible that the chronic fatigue syndrome I experience most days is a direct result of being fed on by ghosts. Exorcising them the pagan way involves counselling them, communicating with them, getting them to see reason that their time has passed, that they have to let go of mortal attachments in the buddhist sense, and move forward to their next life. Exorcising them the catholic way is not something I know much about although it does seem to me that most peoples idea of it involves a painful process of banishing them and sending them through purgatory. Purging is like forging, an alchemical process of transmutation of the soul through experiences. It is usually the fear of facing our own personal karma which causes us to be unable to let go of attachments.

I need to grid the house. The method for this is to build a structure with the imagination. 'Imagination is not imaginary’ is a phrase from the order of the golden dawn. The grid is to take the eight corners of the room and connect each corner one at a time to a point in the center of the room, and to see all of those links at the same time, and connect it, root it, to the center of the earth. Wherever the electromagnetic crystal core of the world is at that time, will affect every particle in the room and position it Now rather than it lagging in the past. I have to do this for every room and then for the whole building. I have to do this as regularly as I remember to do it. It detaches my vibrational existence, my time of dwelling here, to Now and unlinks it from the insistent past. It helps, it gives me the space I need to function.

She simply does not know how to approach me or the topic. It is easier for her to sleep for a while and then return when she is hungry again. The nostalgia of ghosts is a frustration for the living. We need to remember this when our time comes. It is fear of facing our karma that is attachment to the material density. Others can forgive us but until we can forgive ourselves, we cannot let go. It really is that simple.

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