This week was a typical week. I was attacked by a vampire, crossed a little ghost over to the other side, and gave my version of a Jimmy Stewart speech to try to save my son's principal's job. I was also saved by four heroic gentlemen.
In a nutshell, I empathically experienced all sorts of physical ailments to understand the root causes of some new clients. Helped channel information helpful in creating a ten year business plan. Visited by dead pets who missed their masters. Connected people with their departed loved ones. Did some investigating and ghostbusting of a residence haunted by some very tragic Victorian drama. Was charged by a ghost with some very cryptic messages about events in her past. Going in I didn't get a description of the girl or what she did, but as it turns out what my client saw and experienced in her dream was the very same thing I saw and experienced in the house. And then some. When ghosts start moving things, making noise and attempting to assault me, that is when I get back up. You can't be Mrs. Nice Girl all the time. I brought in my whole shamanic crew as I laid the new ground rules and established boundaries. At that point, I became a kickass shaman, stomping, shaking, chanting, singing and summoning power animals.
This week two DWP workers accidentally piled up a lengthy two foot high by three foot deep wall of frozen rock solid snow in our driveway. To one of them, my husband said: ‘My wife does angel work for a living and you will be cursed by God’. The driver said, Huh? We had spent the morning finishing up a clearing with Mother Mary and Archangel Michael. Standing on the pile of snow, holding a shovel with my one glove, I repeated those words, looking the DWP driver square in the eyes after an exhausting clearing, and on the verge of tears. Raven was on his way to work and parked in, so we were feeling a bit cheeky. Suddenly, our driveway was massively cleared with apologies. Next day, I flew out the door to save our principal with my speech and left all my keys inside the house. Thankfully, my friend brought two kind firemen to my aid. Just in time to deliver my speech to a board who seemed to be part of a conspiracy to dump our principal in favor of a relative of a board member. She said I raised some great points, before I grabbed her hand on my way out.
Thankfully, when I encounter active negative energy I gag, and sometimes almost vomit, whether I am clearing a person or a house. It's a good reflex, because it tells me there's more work to be done. So, I press on. Even if my timer's gone off. Employing shamanic chops, my helpers and I stripped the place of its antique glue and kicked out a dangerous ghost who did many bad deeds I do not care to name here. I came back later with my husband after some good rest. He found a couple of dense pockets remained, which confirmed my own perception, but he found it pretty damn clear as well. His questions and impressions about the history of certain areas were the same as mine, without me having shared those details. His presence on day two nlet me focus on being in a deep state of divine love, which is needed to help someone into the heavenly realms. With energy extractions or soul retrievals, there's a lot of story to be told, some mediation, bargaining, and reconciliation.
Even still, you've gotta scare the heck out of stuck spirits for them to take you seriously. They've gotta be more scared of you, than you are of them. They've gotta be more scared of you, than they are of The Unknown, and that is a tall order. That, my dear friends, is when shamanism comes in. You have got to inject the harmony and vibrations of the POWERFUL natural world into the chaos of the manmade cage of trauma, be it violence, drug addiction and compulsion, murder, rape, or sexual assault, which is at the foundation of a haunted house. Think LAVA, GALES, TSUNAMIS...Think Jaguars, Pumas, Vultures, Sharks...One must embody these energies to bring about deep change, mi amigos.
The way movies depict crossing over stuck and lost spirits is so lazy. Do people really think someone who has been trapped in a moment in time, traumatized, angry, frustrated, profoundly sad, and living off living people like a vampire is gonna respond to a brief prep talk and an invitation into the light, with the mellow cooing of an armchair medium? Not in my experience. First, there are layers of emotions, conversations and events that occurred which create the emotional glue the past clings to. The house needs a whole psychic makeover, purging, rattling, shaking down to its bare bones.
A stuck person can run the whole gamut of emotions. Unpredictability is their MO, their whole forte. If they are easy to spot they are more vulnerable, but if they can hide in the wallpaper of emotions, knit themselves into the quilt that is the collective psychic of the inhabitatnts, they can go unseen and unnoticed. People can be effected by energies in a house. People can also be possessed by their own internal demons which feed off of an addiction to alcohol or drugs. Unresolved thoughts, feelings and patterns from the past, can gravitate to people who are half checked out already. A Victorian house may contain eight generations of abuse and tragedy. Conversely, a house may contain the strength of love and light through eight generations.
People didn't know about bacteria back then. Hundreds of years of people fearing witchcraft left most effective medicinal knowledge to ancient herstory. Women who effectively treated and cured people were considered evil, in cahoots with Satan. You were suspected of practicing magic if you were female using herbs to heal people. During these dark ages of the repression natural medicine only a handful of culinary and household tonifying herbs were considered acceptable. But these common mild panacea herbs have limited efficacy.
During the Victorian age, women and babies died during and after childbirth from infection. People's religious fanaticism, belief in authoritarian and corporeal punishment and their lack of psychological and scientific understanding led to some rough dynamics. Pair that with the tragedy of losing family at sea, a constant battle with native inhabitants, repression of dancing, music and sexuality, with the fear of god's omnipotent ever watchful eye and its condemnation and judgment. You can imagine people crammed into little cold Victorian houses could be yahoos sometimes.
With the rise of the industrial age and factory farming, some people in both rural places and cities lost a lot of money. There were significant frosts, famine, lost supply ships, piracy, and generally people had many mouths to feed, which was a lot of pressure. Often times, like a human will attract similar relationship patterns again and again, so do houses. Like people, most houses evolve over time. People learn from their mistakes, generations evolve as technology evolves and as the God concept grows so does compassion, empathy, moral responsibility, community, and a sense of purpose.
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After I helped Mary and Michael to cross over the little girl, I was visited by a whole bunch of ghosts who need help crossing over. I handed them a clipboard, drew in several columns, and told them if they could write their name down on a piece of paper, I would help. Go away and come back with a living person and we'll take it from there.
These people take Doctors Without Boarders to the next level! Talk about no boundaries, these people don't even have bodies.
How do I know they are ghosts and not angels? How do I know they need crossing over? You may wonder, among other things... Well, when spirits are listless and stuck between worlds, I usually see them with shrunken skulls.
It's just my brain's code for "tortured soul who wants to leave the earth but doesn't know how". Like psychic shorthand. First thought, maybe I can devote all my Sundays to crossing over lost souls? Second thought, I crossed over one girl and twenty more lost souls came my way. (Which happened the last time too.) What would happen if I crossed over these twenty? That thought is daunting, especially if your living room has ever turned into a waiting room of musty ghosts suffering various maladies at midnight.
