A Haunting, Interrupted

Recently, I stayed at a friend's house while she was out of town.  Previously, a warm and welcoming space, the past few months have wrought a distinct change in the environment.  Sickness, worry, and stress are now the dominant themes in her life.  I had previously sensed the development of a haunting, but it has definitely jumped a grade or two.

Some people can read emerging trends in the stock market.  Others can read the weather.  I can read the subtle cues in an environment that betray a haunting.  

Well, big whoop, it does no good when people will not allow you to help.  The very subject is verboten.  Unlike other talents, this is one people will go out of their way to not use to their advantage.  Life must be so much easier for people who know how to drop a beneficial stock tip into the lap of someone they care about.  I could help my friend, but there is no way she would accept what I have to say.  So, I watch from the periphery as a haunting slowly drains the joy from her life.

Hauntings strike the most unlikely of victims.  My friend has a beautiful home.  She is active in the community, well known and respected.  Her home is filled with expensive knick knacks and antiques.  Actually, it is a little too full.  This should have tipped me off earlier, but like everyone else, I was dazzled by her well-organized collections.  That is, until the first time I stayed there.  

Then, I was overwhelmed by the sheer number of things she possessed.  It's one thing to admire someone's things over a casual evening, it is quite another when you have to trip over them on a daily basis.  Finding the simplest things was a major chore.  Nothing is easy to do in that house.  Too many items are competing for every available square inch.

Hoarders and hauntings go together like whiskey and coke.  I had no idea my friend was a hoarder until I saw the garage.  It is huge and half of it is unusable.  The space verily screamed for a garage sale.  

But even that did not prepare me for what I found in the basement.  It was not my place to go down there.  I had asked before and been denied.  But, curiousity got the better of me.  The basement is huge and crammed to the rafters with stuff.  It holds twenty years worth of unresolved energy.  And it took my breath away.  

Every single one of those items is a memory.  Everything anyone possesses takes energy to acquire, to store, to maintain.  Respecting this dynamic means that each item must be acknowledged before being released.  This can be overwhelming, so it is best to go slow.  Prior to releasing items, it helps to take the time to organize similar items into categories.  Regret over hurriedly disposing of possessions will lead to the acquisition of more things in a vain attempt to fill the void.  Truly, "the things you own end up owning you (Fight Club)."

The only positive is that the basement gets a lot of sunlight.  It helps prevent all that energy from going too dark.  But, the basement gets no fresh air.  Therefore, all that energy churns with no place to go.  It feels like a seething vortex.  All that energy had no focal point until recently.  A couple years ago, my friend experienced a devastating tragedy.  She lost someone in a terrible car accident.

And guess what happened to his ashes? They were placed in an engraved box.  The box rests on a cabinet amongst poems and candles.  The house has an open floor plan, so the makeshift shrine sits not five feet from the kitchen.  The kitchen is the beating heart of a home.  It is where friends and family gather to be nourished, both physically and emotionally.  Keeping a death shrine so near the kitchen sends a powerful subconscious message.

The last time I stayed there the refridgerator and both stoves inexplicably went out.  Maybe I shouldn't have gone into the basement, after all.  I certainly paid the price in take out meals. 

When she returned, the appliances were fixed, but the house continually experiences electrical problems.  Lights randomly stop working, then come back.  The loss of power strikes me as a physical metaphor for her emotional state.  She is surrendering to despair.  And it is going to manifest, one way or the other.  

At best, the kitchen barely functions.  The floodlights outside flicker on and off, leaving the impression of vulnerability.  The atmosphere has become heavy, oppressive, joyless.  One room in particular is a focal point.  It had special meaning for the deceased.  The door would open every time I closed it.  Finally, I just left it alone and it stayed put.  There are ways to seal a door, but it is not my home.  

I cannot fight someone else's ghosts.  I wish I could make suggestions, but they would not be heard.  All I could do was make a small gift.  I left my friend a holiday present.  A silver necklace.  In my mind, silver is more valuable than gold.  Given the current price of gold, that probably sounds crazy.  Gold may make you feel good, but silver is spiritually protective.  Silver is to gold as cats are to dogs. 

Speaking of cats and dogs, my friend owns two dogs.  They are big dogs.  Generally, they are quiet and laid back.  One night, I broke one of my own rules.  Well, it's more of a guideline than a rule.  Once again, I ventured into the basement after dark.  I wanted a better gauge for how this haunting is developing.  And I got it.  Usually, I do not disturb the active areas of a home after dark.  That night, the dogs were on edge and barked into the wee hours.  I didn't get much sleep.

Dogs and cats are both attuned to manifestations of spiritual energy.  Dogs may be great at protecting a home from intruders, but they can do nothing about spirits.  The opposite is true of cats. 

I was happy when my time there came to an end.  It gave me more perspective on my own haunting.  After spending a week in a place where an unchecked haunting is developing, I was grateful for my own ghosts.  I had been so busy keeping a lid on my haunting, I did not appreciate how much progress I had made.  The air is lighter.  The house is brighter.  The kitchen functions.  And doors stay closed.