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Archive for the ‘Ghosts and Spirits’ Category

#Between Worlds

image from image from dearscotland.com

~~~~~~~~~~

Bitter

Frost ridden wind

Caught deep inside her throat

Swirling

Like wraiths amongst the trees

Gnarled

Roots seemed to pull her feet

Gripping tightly to

Her satin slippers as she ran

A mournful howl

Echoing intense dread

Ripped across the silent moors

Glancing back

She could see a pair of blood red eyes

Peering hungrily in her direction

Heartbeat

Hammering in her veins

She pushed herself even faster

The trees themselves seemed to reach towards her

Welcoming in their evil embrace

The spell caster had wrought his magic well

Find

Bind

Kill

But never to let her go.

~~~~~~~~~

Ahead

The merest lightening of the sky

As the moon rose over the horizon

Time

Was running faster now

A consequence

Of the spell caster’s work

His Lord’s desire

Never to relinquish his claim

Over her body

But her heart

Belonged to the one who awaited her

On the far side of the portal

Between the standing stones

~~~~~~~~~

Finally free of the overhanging trees

Her dress blew free from her entangled legs

As she sped across the hillocky ground

Ahead the stones stood proud

Silhouetted in the growing brilliance of the moonlight

Suddenly

A blood curdling howl ripped apart the silence

Stumbling, she risked a glance behind

To see two evil red eyes

Their heat scalding on her back

~~~~~~~~~

#Between Worlds

image from owlsandorchids.com

Her trembling feet hit the smooth ground near the stones

The moon rose high in the sky

Just to her right the glistening light of the portal

Fetid breath almost overwhelmed her

An arm reached through the portal

Taking hold of her hand

Bringing her a new found strength

An eldritch howl pierced the night

She smiled at the sight which welcomed her

Through the swirling portal

Between the standing stones

Sighing

She stepped through.

#Between Worlds

image from eltoron.com

Blessings,  Susan

© Susan Jamieson 2014

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Moment in Time

Image from: Wings-of-Love-by-Stephen–006.jpg

A

Curious thought

One

Never thought to rise again

A

Shy smile

One

Which carries the power to hurt again?

A

Tiny heart flutter

Barely

Felt, but heard anew

Another thought

Could this really be right?

Would

This be the ONE

Could

He really be the person he appears to be?

Could

He just be like the other one?

A smile

A touch

A tender look

The words so soft, so kind

What could be more right

Nothing ever felt so true

This time, nothing could ever make me fee blue

Yet….

Tine has a way of unfolding

And

All the half lies, omissions and lies

Fall out of time and smother

A once bright and shining light

The spirit still struggles to shine

Love’s hold is never so weak

To let go a hold of a heart so strong

Yet…

There is only so much

A heart can be asked to hold

Before love,

No matter how strong,

No matter how sure

Starts to buckle and fold

The holes once thought mended

Break open once more like new

Pain never felt like before

Begins to tear mind and heart

And this time, the spirit weakened

And slowly

Grows cold

In ‘Protection’

In ‘Safety’

In

Loneliness………………..waiting for?

Moment in Time

image from blingee.com

The only thing which can make sense of the inexplicable…. truth, honesty and real love because….

“Touched by Fate’s tender hands,
Love springs eternal.” –

Anthony Halat

But the best part of all is knowing that if “my emotions control me at times” then at least I know I’m alive.  I choose to be alive, it’s who I am.

Monet in Time

image courtesy of Facebook

Blessings for all , Susan x

© Susan  Jamieson 2013

 

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Insight into Life

image from spykebytes.me

Peering

Through eyes tight with pain

Wondering

How long this is going to last

Thinking of a way to make it past

This annoying hindrance

Life and love surround me

Happiness and joy

That everyone can see – but

What lies beyond this world of mine?

What more is there when I close my eyes?

Sightless I sit in solitude

I hear a baby bird calling for its parents

It’s time for food his cheeping says

Another calls its incessant too-wit

To herald another shower of rain

A whirring at the window

Tells me a dragonfly is near

Coming to see what this strange barrier is

A rumbling grows louder as it nears

A car is straining to make it in top gear

There is a low susurration of sound

As the ocean follows its ebb and flow

I hear bubbling grow in heated tempo

As a kettle is brought to boil

I smell tea brewing in the pot

And hear it pouring into a cup

I smell the delicious aroma as it is brought near

I catch the aroma of something sweet

A pastry of some kind I think

Yet there is a sharp tangy scent carried with it

A filling of tart fruit inside the pastry

The taste, sublime, even more intense

As the fruit and pastry are carefully nibbled

The tea is sipped slowly

The fragrant aroma floats over the tongue

And seeps into the senses

A sigh – Who could know

Fruit Danish and tea could taste even better

And the world outside could be heard

With a greater intensity

By resting my eyes from the pain

The world has given me a new refrain

A delight for the senses refreshed again

To see and hear is such a boon

Yet they live again renewed

Eyes open once more, almost too soon

Insight to Life

image from midstridemoxie.blogspot.com

A million words can be used to describe identity and what it means to you or I, and when we’re done, a million more can be used to interpret what we’ve said. Identity, part of that unique quality which remains almost indescribable. We can catch a glimpse, a new insight into identity and turning around find a new insight is laid bare before us.

“Don’t let a day go by without asking who you are…each time you let a new ingredient to enter your awareness.”
Deepak ChopraThe Book of Secrets: Unlocking the Hidden Dimensions of Your Life

Blessings and Insights to enliven your days.

Ciao, Susan  x

© Susan Jamieson 2013

This is the last post of my NABloPoMo challenge. 30 posts in 30 days.

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in flow, the relationship between what a person had to do and what he could do was perfect. The challenge wasn’t too easy.
Nor was it too difficult. It was a notch or two beyond his current abilities, which stretched the body and mind in a way that made the effort itself
the most delicious reward. That balance produced a degree of focus and satisfaction that easily surpassed other, more quotidian,
experiences. In flow, people lived so deeply in the moment, and felt so utterly in control, that their sense of time, place, and even self melted
away. They were autonomous, of course. But more than that, they were engaged.”
― Daniel H. Pink

I had a plan. Just a simple plan. I only had one important outside event to undertake today and I felt I had plenty of time to sit down and write.  I even had a reasonably good story line worked out – not off the cuff for a change. Halloween only comes once a year.

Yet life is about being “In the Moment”, being able to adapt to what occurs and still make it valuable and fulfilling. It is also “Being Mindful”.  It sounds so trite at times and yet it is profound. If we get it right then life flows and everything is easy, there are no hard parts to butt up against. At least if we do we are able to handle them with ease and grace and life simply is.

I had an energy healing yesterday which is far too involved to go into tonight. It’s late and it has been a big day. I know it’s been a big day because of the healing… I simply know this and I’m not going to try to downplay it.

I had a simple EEG scheduled just after lunch.  I was so filled with all the information from my healing that I think I lost focus on getting into a sleep ritual, something I must do. I haven’t slept now for four nights and I’m a little unglued, as one does become without good sleep.

My dearly loved and irreverent hubby decided it would be hilarious to photograph me at the worst possible moment.  The Sputnik like photographs have been confiscated and consigned into the ‘never to be revealed to the light of day’ locked casket and I have the only key. The penalty has yet to be decided upon and the delivery will have to be totally unexpected.

I am pleased to say I did NOT look like this…  this is more a Young Einstein copycat, but not me.

However, I had a head full of blobs of sticky goo which would not come out. Painfully teasing the lumps from my hair was unpleasant, seeing my hair looking like I had already had a Halloween fright was not part of the plan. I had shops to visit… an outing planned to change the tempo of my days.

A quick shower later and my hair looking reasonable after a quick shampoo, I at lest looked part of the human race again. However, something happened on the way to the receptionist. My body didn’t want to follow orders.  I’d had a torrid time during the part of the EEG when the lights were flashing, flickering strobe like  and generally trying to bore through my frontal lobe. Most disagreeable.

Back at the car I focused on my beautiful latte to come, sure to pick me up again. However, the walk to the coffee shop was painfully slow and painful! All the ‘comfy’ seats were taken – one booth by what I can only assume were a pair of madams discussing their girls. You didn’t need to eavesdrop, their conversation was loud enough to broadcast over the centre. Educational – no, irritating – oh yes!

“We let ourselves loose on that simple blank piece of paper, and our bodies spill. The terror, the love…embodying our stories page after page. In a sense, the pen was our tongue, it is how we delineate the world.”
Coco J. Ginger

The Pen Shoppe, a delight, a torment, a veritable smorgasbord of beautiful objects for me to drool over. Yes, I’m a stationery collector and beautiful pens tops the list – although the list is quite large. Fortunately my husband also loves all things stationery… cool isn’t it!

Yet I wasn’t getting my subtle charge from my favourite surroundings. After a short visit we popped next door to my yummy delicious and resistance destroying, Crystal Shop.

The Crystal Cafe... too good to pass up

The Crystal Cafe… too good to pass up

The energies in here have always perked me up but today I was dragging myself around. If I could have found a geode large enough I think I would have crawled inside.  After a really short visit for me we left and decided to come home. Once back I faded into semi oblivion for two hours. I still feel slightly disconnected so I’m closing with well wishes for Halloween and I’ll catch up tomorrow, after all, memories last forever.

“Shadows of a thousand years rise again unseen, Voices whisper in the trees, Tonight is Halloween!”

– Dexter Kozen

Blessings, Susan xx

© Susan Jamieson 2-13

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Swirling tendrils of forgotten shadow

Creep slowly across yonder moor

Twirling columns of silent clammy mist

Writhe upwards across the tor

Between yon monument from aeons past

And the craggy gnarled trees death had left

Strange echoes keen from long ago

And follow along in the wake of the silent shade

Slowly she glides across the land

Where no human foot could stand

Nor the sound of a footfall can be heard

Gossamer threads of moonlight

Break softly round her form

Where she comes from none can guess

Drawn like a magnet  lightning struck

Towards a life long ago lost

From afar is heard a mournful sigh

Seemingly called from on high

Perhaps the dead atop the tor

Are calling her nigh

This eerie sound made by no bird

No animal I have known

Could make that mournful keening sound

That crossed the mist filled moor

Alone the lady wandered thus

Searching for…..

Some peace of mind or soul

Or the arms of a long-lost love

For surely no man will ever know.

image from flickriver.com

Who can tell the strength of ties that bind the heart?

© Susan Jamieson 2013

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image from bigoldhouses.blogspot.com

In every block of marble I see a statue as plain as though it stood before me, shaped and perfect in attitude and action. I have only to hew away the rough walls that imprison the lovely apparition to reveal it to the other eyes as mine see it. Michelangelo

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England has more than a small number of old houses, mansions, priories, castles and so on, many having their own tales of haunting or ghosts. Whilst I have my own experiences of wandering through these places, including my feelings walking round Port Arthur, this tale is purely anchored in a vivid dream. All I will say is that the house of my dream is one I ‘know’ and have ‘been to in the distant past’ even though I cannot recall the details of it yet.

It was drawing close to winter, the weather had turned cold and a keen wind had whistled around the house for days.  It found any small crack or crevice to keen through and bring goose-flesh to your skin. It was easy to hear strange noises or perhaps whispered voices once the sun had set.

I was at my babysitting job on this bitterly cold Saturday night. I had stayed up late watching the old horror movies starring Vincent Price and Peter Cushing. They seemed perfectly suited for such eerie surrounds. When I was taken home again  had to make my way to the back of the house to get in. Behind me was the skyline of the old woods, trees writhing in the wind and bats silently flitting between the scudding clouds.  I was in a hurry to get inside.

image from theinsideofmyheadd.wordpress.com

It was late and I was grateful to climb between my warm sheets and pull my eider down under my chin. I was sure I would be asleep in minutes. Yet from there I slipped into  a strange land somewhere between wakefulness and sleep, or so I thought.

I saw this old house, so familiar and yet I knew, in one part of my mind, that I had never been there, yet. It had a dark and brooding feel to it, as though it had been long-deserted and had an unhappy history. I heard footsteps, a careful measured tread and with some surprise realised they were mine. I walked up the long and overgrown driveway towards the front door of the house. It felt as though the house was waiting… for me or someone else, I really don’t know.

There were six steps leading up to the front porch. The scroll work railing around the patio was rusted and dark, clinging vines wrapped around it all withered and dry, rustling eerily in the wind. The house had been empty for years, windows broken, boarded over now with jagged edges, the holes gaping into the blackness beyond.

My footsteps creaked on the wooden portico as I approached the door. The wind had picked up in intensity and the door creaked loudly as it moved slightly on its rusted hinges. Without conscious thought I saw my pale hand reach out to slowly push the door open. The screech of rusted metal protesting was loud in my ears and a nearby owl hooted as it flew off into the trees.

I did not want to enter that house so why were my feet pulling me forward?  Some intangible force seemed to be drawing me inside, deeper into the dark recesses of the house. The wind whistling through those jagged holes in the windows blew dried leaves rustling across the floor as the door opened further.  It made a sound like shuffling feet creeping across the floor.

image from cindi.ccfoss.com

I moved slowly forward, towards the old staircase. I could see it would have been beautiful when the house was in its hey day, but now was as broken down as the rest of the house.  As I stood there at the foot of the staircase I thought I heard a whispered voice calling from above. I couldn’t make out what it said and my tongue was clinging to the roof of my dry mouth. My legs had turned to jelly yet were rooted to the spot.

I hadn’t noticed that the little light which had been coming in through the door and windows had grown less. The wind was howling more strongly and I could hear thunder crashing off in the distance. Each time it sounded a little closer and the old house seemed to shake in the rumbling echoes.  Lightning suddenly flashed off in the distance, throwing an eerie light into the house.

The moaning of the wind now began to sound like the moaning of someone in pain, a sound which was getting louder by the minute. Another crash of thunder seemed to rattle the old house to its very foundations and the following lightning flash flared brightly. In the peculiar afterglow I thought I saw a figure silhouetted tat the top of the staircase. A woman in a long dress seemed to be staring down at me.

The crash of thunder pealed directly overhead followed immediately by the whip crack of lightning. Between the wind howling through the windows, the deafening noise of thunder and actinic flare of lightning the shape coalesced into the form of a woman, apparently floating down the stairs. I certainly could hear no footfalls.

Whether I could hear anything or not I no longer wished to be there. Without conscious thought, without moving I found myself once more tucked up in my bed, breathing heavily and drenched in perspiration, my heart hammering to its own beat.

I suppose one should expect strange dreams if one is watching horror movies! After all, it was just a dream – wasn’t it?

I have never seen this house and yet I know it. Another lifetime perhaps, only time may tell, it felt real at the time. I could smell the lightning and the dead leaves, the musty old house. I could hear the wind  and thunder, footsteps and was it a voice moaning? At the time it was real as all dreams or otherworldly experiences are real. It is up to you to decide. Whatever lesson I have to learn from this is still to be revealed.  Perhaps the message was for you?

.

image from style160.blogspot.com

“I am enough of an artist to draw freely upon my imagination. Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world.”
Albert Einstein

Blessings  Susan x

© Susan Jamieson

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image from spirit_elements-www-josephinewall-co

image from spirit_elements-www-josephinewall.co.uk

Two years before my marriage breakdown my father had passed away after a nasty battle with cancer. As anyone who has had anything to do with cancer knows, it isn’t an easy journey. Dad had Myeloid Leukemia and as time passed I became aware that I was hearing Nanny call me more and more often. I would lay awake at night waiting for her to call me, finally falling asleep only to wake when I heard her calling me, then lose any connection when I spoke. I became more frustrated with myself, wishing I could ‘wake’ just enough to ‘talk’ to her without saying anything, which I thought was stopping her from speaking to me.

I read everything I could find about Angels and spirit communication. I listened to anything I could on CD or video but couldn’t get to see or speak to anyone. (My ex called it “that rubbish”). I was frustrated and saddened by my failure to learn something which might bring some peace to Dad or Mum who was herself very ill. Yes, and answer some of my questions.

After his passing he seemed to be with me often. His particular scent was everywhere and I felt if I could turn quickly enough I might be able to glimpse him before he vanished. I began hearing him calling my name as I slept too. It was comforting but frustrating as I felt I was missing something important. Yet I had no idea where to go to find the answers. It seemed everyone was calling me and I was unable to hear what they wanted me to hear.

image from myvoiceonthewingsofchange.blogspot.com

Twelve months later my father in law passed away. I was shocked when I heard his voice call me. We had traveled out to Texas to see him, knowing in my heart we would be saying goodbye. Once I saw him in the hospital I heard voices all around me, his family waiting. A planned short visit became a dire need to stay overnight, one I knew would be the last but which my husband refused to accept. As I waited for him to return from collecting overnight items I heard his father calling my name. Yet neither of us said a word. Within minutes of his return his father passed away.

I was shocked by my experiences in the hospital. The last years had seen a growing divide between his father and I, almost in line with the decline of my marriage and I was stunned at the experience I had whilst I was alone with him.  Now I had even more questions. Why did he speak to me after all ‘this’ time’? “Why” could I hear his family when I had never been able to form a close relationship with them over the years? It was inexplicable to me at that time.

Twelve months later my marriage broke down completely and my foray into other avenues to find the answers which filled my mind finally began in earnest.

I began to actively seek out groups I could get to, Paganism, Wicca, Angelic workshops, Spiritual churches. Online and in person I searched for a reason for the why of life and death which perplexed me.  I pursued my Reiki healing and then followed with other healing modalities. I could feel my senses expanding and sense things even more intensely. I attended Doreen Virtues Angel workshops and became an accredited Angel practitioner. I bought and became proficient with a range of tarot cards but apart from friends lacked the trust in myself to read for anyone else. A wonderful ‘seminar’ with some famous psychics arranged by Hay House was a highlight at the time. I had so many questions bubbling away inside and no opportunity to ask any!

I became involved with a couple of Wiccan groups, only to find we didn’t ‘fit’, beautiful people and I had some answers and learned a great deal. Much of what I learned made sense but didn’t answer everything completely. In the process of searching through online groups I came across a colourful individual, I’ll call Evan, a colourful character who had led a colourful life.

Evan and his family lived in the Woodford area and I was invited up to meet them…. I gathered it was an inspection process to see if I would fit in with the group. It was a strange meeting, filled with questions and the impression of being ‘weighed and measured’.  In retrospect it was rather funny. They had their ceremonies which appeared to be very similar to the Wicca groups, but there was a hint that there was ‘more I could learn if things went well’. This intrigued me even more. What could be so secret that I had to ‘prove’ myself before I could find out about it. It certainly didn’t sound like any of the Wicca I’d been involved in or studied. It did, however, sound very much like it might lead to a darker kind of practice. My curiosity was piqued.

Now I know from my studies that Paganism is not ‘black magic’ yet I also know that there are those who do take such worship down darker paths. The feelings I received as we performed our full moon celebrations did not leave me feeling happy and joyous but uncomfortable and brooding, waiting for something further to happen. The secrecy and mystery they surrounded their celebrations with also made my hackles rise.

My years of reading Dennis Wheatley came to the fore and it took little time talking with the other members of the group to learn that the New Moon celebrations were more ‘interesting’. Now why should that be? Why were the chants so strange? Why were we not allowed to see them until the ceremony was about to start?

People stop seeing you for who you really are after a while and I sat and listened to what was happening. I’m sure everyone has seen the backward writing which your brain can read easily after a few seconds. All the words for their ceremonies were written in reversed order. Nothing ‘bad’ that I could ever saw, but what went on at those ceremonies I was not invited to?  As time passed I became more uncomfortable. Their costumes became more flamboyant and brief and their talk left me in no doubt that their altar was not a place to honour life. Not in the way I would like.

Common  sense told me to simply stop going there as I had already heard of past members having somewhat unfortunate accidents. My police ‘radar’ was working overtime, and my angels were pulling me away. After my snake episode. yes, it was Evan who gave me the cranky snake, I’d had enough searching down this avenue. Discretion was the better part of valor!

Then I met an old friend from my children’s primary school who was having weekly meetings at her home. Reiki practice, angelic and spiritual discussions and demonstrations. A new era was starting.

We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience.”
Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

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Blessings, Susan x

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Next week, New worlds open up.

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