A Night Visitor

(A lesson in self-protection)

I’m used to spirits of the dead turning up in my space. Most often it’s my own dear departed, particularly (but not only) my late husband Andrew, popping in to see how I’m doing, or responding to a call from me — which might be a yell for help, but more often just that I’m thinking of that person and missing them.

(Less often nowadays, but commonplace in the past) I’ve been a conduit for lost spirits needing to find their way home to the Light — a ‘clearing house’, as one psychic described me. I know how to clear whatever is holding them up and send them on, swift and straight, in the right direction. (Perhaps they have found a more sympathetic helper now. It got to the point where there were so many, and I became so blasé about it, that if I was busy writing a poem, or having a conversation with a living person, I would say — telepathically and brusquely — ‘ Not now! Later.’ That later, I’m ashamed to say, could be a long time coming.)

I have protection in place, and tools and guardians I can also call on if needed. On the rare occasions I sense a negative energy, it’s quickly blocked. So I was more puzzled than worried when an unknown being emanating extreme cold came up behind me in my kitchen the other night. For quite other reasons, I hate the cold; but I also know that cold associated with ghosts is not necessarily sinister. It simply means they’ve been dead a long time: the longer, the colder. 

All the same, I got a little spooked. I had a sense that this one wanted to enter into me, merge with me in some way. I wasn’t having that! The feeling of the energy was a little like a sexual predator — wanting control; prepared to commit intrusion, violation — and likely to be sneaky rather than brutal. Even so, I could have chosen to engage in a dialogue, find out their purpose and reasons, help them resolve the underlying cause and move on in Love, towards the Light. This has worked in the past, even with formidable entities. But this time I didn’t want to engage. 

I called on my angels. Nothing changed. Maybe this was a friend after all? Or else an unusually powerful threat? Either way, I wasn’t in the mood. I recited, in thought, some protective mantras I know. I visualised shields. No physical actions, nothing spoken aloud. I felt that, for some reason, I should be sneaky too, not overt about my awareness or protective measures. 

I sensed it right up close at my back. Casting about for something else to do, I recalled some ways of being that I aspire to: honesty, integrity, loyalty, respect.... I began, almost instinctively, declaring in my mind, ‘I stand in honesty, I stand in integrity....’ Then I gathered them under an overall label: ‘I stand in honour.’ It's not a thing I'd ever done before as a protection ritual. I think I was more shoring up my courage.  My mind was still stumbling around, trying to find the best thing to say, the thing that would work. I didn’t realise until later, looking back, that the intruder had already halted. I found more qualities to invoke. ‘I stand in peace, I stand in joy, I stand in strength, I stand in my courage.’ I wanted to assert, ‘I stand in my power,’ but was afraid that could be interpreted as a challenge, that the entity might respond with some version of, ‘Oh yeah? Go on, show me.’ I didn’t want to entrap myself in a battle. I kept searching through various phrases, clutching hastily at whatever virtue popped into my head. Serenity, determination, authenticity.... Suddenly it all solidified into a statement that settled in my heart, calming me. I spoke it aloud: ‘I stand in my truth.’

I liked it. I breathed easier. I repeated it aloud several times — not aggressively but with certainty. Even with a kind of gladness. 

(Could I have articulated the specifics of ‘my truth’ if I’d been asked? It was more a sense that I would know it in any situation, I could rely on it absolutely, and it would always guide me.)

I went about my usual activities, no longer feeling threatened, although still shaken by the experience. Gradually the evening settled back into normality. I wasn’t afraid. I almost forgot that any of it had happened.

Next morning, recalling it all, I renewed my self-dedication to ‘Love, Peace and Truth’, which I had let lapse for some time. To me, those are the universal essentials. They are also qualities I can align with in my intention for the day, taking them as my own on a personal level while continuing to trust them as the essence of the Divine. Surely this practice, this daily renewal, is my very best protection?

What if that cold energy invading my space was not so much a threat as a test? Or it might have been a manifestation of some self-doubts and deep self-questioning that had assailed me recently. The Universe has a way of giving us exactly what we need.

It is wonderful to me that the thing which grounded, centred, empowered and freed me was finally to stand in my own truth.

Samhain Mysteries

It's the night of Samhain (here in the Southern Hemisphere) – when, according to Pagan tradition, 'the veil thins' and we not only remember and honour our dear departed and our ancestors, we may be visited by them.

All week, around town, I have kept seeing women who looked like Yasoda, a friend who died a little earlier than a year ago – and then they would turn around and the resemblance would fade. Only tonight I thought, 'Oh of course. It's Samhain.' And then a friend reminded me it was recently the anniversary of her passing. So I guess that between these dates she would come close.

Late this afternoon, I was sitting in my living room with three friends. One looked up, over my shoulder, and said, 'Someone's here.' I turned and saw nothing, but did feel a presence very strongly (which is my more usual way of perceiving the other-worldly). She said she'd seen someone 'flit' down the passage, someone apparently very familiar with the place, and had enough of a glimpse to see his height. 'Short,' she said, and I wondered if it was Andrew (my late husband). She went over and indicated where his height had reached – exactly the same as her own. I measured her against me, and said, 'Yes, that must have been Andrew.' He was just a fraction shorter than me, and she came to the same height. I picked up a pendulum which was once Andrew's and asked if it was him. I got a big yes. (This was a woman who knew Andrew for many years and loved him dearly.)

The sense of a presence abated, and we all decided to go to that same friend's place to celebrate Samhain with a fire in her fire pit.
It was a lovely, relaxed evening. She spoke some words to honour the ancestors, including the ancestral indigenous owners of the land we live in, and we mentioned by name our loved ones who had gone 'beyond the veil'. I included, without specifically naming them, 'My beloved cats, and dogs.'

(We burnt a broken old wooden chair on the fire.)

When I came home, my next door neighbour was just driving out. Good! I would not be observed from his back yard. An opportunity too good to miss. I grabbed my wands, went outside and cast circle. Remembering my dead all over again, when I came to my cat Selene, whom I did mention specifically this time, I couldn't help some moments of sobbing.

Back inside afterwards, I saw that one of my friends had left a pencil behind, on the coffee table we'd all been sitting around. I picked it up to put aside for her, thinking to give it to her next time I see her – and then I saw something else on the coffee table. Let me explain that I had cleared and wiped down that table before my friends arrived in the afternoon. Then we had all sat around it with cuppas, buns and biscuits. At no stage did anyone see this item, which was now clearly visible in the middle of the table – the sheath of one of Selene's claws.

Selene went to her Summerlands on March 4th. Since then the coffee table has been wiped down a number of times, and the floor vacuumed.

Just now, as I type this, I am hearing noises from my kitchen. It sounds like the way my old cat, Levi (who died in 2015) used to go around and bump all the cupboard doors with his nose when he wanted to be fed.

Because I am who I am and live the life I do, these occurrences don't greatly surprise me. But they do make me glad.

A CAT VISITATION

It’s wet out – very light, drizzly, nonstop rain. Levi is having a quiet day inside on some cushions. I too am having a quiet day, in dressing-gown and slippers, to shake off the last of the flu.  

But I had to put the bins out on the street. As I did that just now, taking the recycle bin from its possie by the fence, when I turned to move it to the street I saw over my shoulder a familiar cat shape pacing down the driveway towards me.

I thought that was awfully quick for Levi to have gone to his cat door, and then come all the way around the house ... hang on, it wasn’t a black cat but a grey one.

When I turned back to go fetch the other bin, there was no cat to be seen. Levi, of course, was still on his cushions when I came back inside.

It’s a mixture of sad and sweet to know that my precious girl, Freya, who died last September, still comes visiting now and then.

Oh of course — it's Samhain! (When the veil between the worlds thins and we may see our dearly departed.)

COMFORT COMES

My little cat, Freya, left me just over a week ago, as recounted at my SnakyPoet blog.

By that evening I had developed the worst back-ache of my life, across the whole of my back from neck to tail and side to side. It lasted the best part of three days, and at its worst was almost crippling. Luckily all I had to do all weekend was sit in front of a computer, hosting my section of a collaborative virtual book launch.

That was a commitment I couldn't get out of. The only other person who might have been able to fill in for my hours was ill herself, and hardly likely to make an instantaneous, miraculous recovery just because my circumstances had suddenly altered.

As it turned out, the launch was tremendous fun. Doing my duty was a blessing in disguise, as it took my mind off the emotional distress. And what with pain-killers and hot water bottles, sitting at my desk was probably one of my better options for not exacerbating the back-ache.

I had to be on deck for the launch on Saturday morning, so couldn't dash off to the doctor until Monday. I called on absent Reiki from two friends, swearing them to online secrecy. (I didn't want to deflect attention away from the purpose of the launch, let alone make my collaborators feel guilty. Being caring people, I thought they might have done, however irrationally.)

What caused the pain? There were two possibilities. Either the new weekly tablet for osteoporosis, which I began that morning, or Freya's departure that afternoon. Maybe both.

Painkillers, heat and absent Reiki did help some, but not as much as I'd have liked. Not immediately, anyway. I wondered if I would have to end up going to hospital. But who would look after my remaining cat, Levi, if that happened? And how would the poor lad cope with my absence, when still distressed at that of his sister?

During my tea break on Saturday, at one point I lay down on the bed to have a cry — partly at losing my Freya, partly from pain, and partly in anxiety about how to cope. It was clear to me that, with sole responsibility for Levi, I just can't afford to have any serious health breakdowns!

Levi came onto the bed and snuggled up to my back, needing comfort himself. I started to turn, so as to take him in my arms and say, 'What are we going to do, Levi?' As I did, I caught a glimpse out of the corner of my eye of Andrew (my late husband) standing by the bed in his white shirt. I didn't even see his face, but after living with the man for 20 years, I know his torso — and his energy.

'Andrew!' I said, half turning back — not in alarm but in surprised greeting. Of course, the image had already vanished (that is the way of it in my experience) but I knew he was still there.

'I don't know what to do,' I told him. I explained about the pain, the possibility of hospital, and my concerns for Levi. I explained about having to be present for the launch, so as not to let others down.

'Help me!' I said. Then I lay back, exhausted from that small effort.

I sensed him reach down and give me Reiki. I didn't feel disembodied hands on me or anything. Instead I had a mental image of him reaching his arms down so that his hands touched my shoulders. Funnily enough, although I had seen and still felt him by the bed, my image was of his arms having to elongate and stretch a long way down. But I didn't think much about that at the time, through the pain; it only registered afterwards.

What I did feel was the Reiki taking effect very quickly. Not only did the pain reduce considerably, my sorrow was eased by a deep feeling of peace. Neither pain nor emotional distress went away entirely, but I was very soon able to get up, feed myself and Levi, and go back online refreshed.

By Sunday morning the pain was starting to leave. By the time I saw the doctor on Monday, it had almost gone. He said he couldn't rule out the medicine but that was not one of the known side-effects, and as it's a slow-acting drug, he wouldn't have expected any reaction so soon. He did, however, think it feasible that it could have been due to emotional stress.

'We won't know until you take your next tablet next Friday,' he said. The mere thought of taking another was scary, just in case it was the cause!

But it is true that emotions tend to go straight to my body. I'll get a cold, or a headache, or a bit of low back pain. I just never experienced quite such an extreme physical reaction before. (Well, there's a school of thought, to which I partly subscribe, which says most or even all physical symptoms can be traced to an emotional origin — but not usually so fast.)

I saw my chiropractor on Tuesday. He felt my back and confirmed that there was  'a large stress component' in what had happened. And I took the second tablet this Friday without the same effects.

Since then, Freya herself has come back to visit, as detailed in this short poem.

It's nice to get such vivid reminders that my dear departed are still around, and to know that Andrew still has, as I always told him, 'the best Reiki hands in the business'.

Geting Rid of Other-Worldly Visitations

My friend Maryna has lately had a new "ghostie" at  her premises.  I'm not sure if she is happy to keep this being around or not, so it would be presumptuous of me to rush in with advice on removing it.  However, I do know a method, so I'm sharing it here for anyone who may have need of one.

Actually I know several, but this one is particularly good because it also removes the reasons for the entity to be in your space – therefore, once gone they are liable to stay gone. It was taught to me many years ago by my great friend and teacher Jenette Youngman, who called it Karmic Completion, and it has many applications. I love it because it involves treating all beings with respect, unlike some forms of exorcism and space clearing which are cruel. To become adept takes time and training, but the following is a simple version that works for this kind of situation.

Ground, centre and protect yourself, then go into meditation and send lots of love to your "visitor". (All beings are children of God and are worthy of unconditional love for that reason if no other.) Ask what name you may call them and if there is anything they need to communicate. If you have not been aware of this presence until recently, perhaps they're not just stuck on this plane but have some other reason for visiting. If you can get them complete on that, they may then be ready and willing to go to their future destination / destiny. If stuck, there would be a reason for that too, so the same applies

It is enough just to hear what they have to say, acknowledge each utterance with "thank you" (for the communication, regardless of what it is) and keep asking every so often, "Are you now complete on this issue and ready to take the path of love to your future evolution?" until they say they are. Don't get involved in making promises or carrying out any actions they may request; keep it on the level of dialogue. You’re in charge! You have the right to say who or what may enter your space.

If the being has something to communicate to someone other than yourself, just ask them what it is and have them say it to you until complete. Keep asking, "Is there anything more you need to say to this person in order to be complete on this issue?"

You can create a path of love with visualisation and intention. Some people see it as white light. However you see it, it's important to identify it as a path of love. When they declare themselves ready, invite them onto it, and watch them along it until they disappear in the distance. THEN DISSOLVE THE PATH! (You don't want any uninvited entities coming along it.)

If they get stuck on the path, you can ask, "Is there anything still incomplete for you?" If it's fear paralysing them, ask if they would like an angel to accompany them, then have them call for an angel and let you know when one has come. I have never known them not to agree to calling for an angel, nor an angel failing to appear and accompany them the rest of the way.

Don't dwell too much on this matter thereafter; let it be complete for you too.

Of course, if the visitor turned out to be a guide or angel, you might not want to send them away. But be on the safe side – some make claims that are untrue. You can always call guides or angels to you later in case of need and they will happily come, even if you have previously sent them away. Also, check how you feel in their presence. Clear and empowered is probably a good sign. You can send love to them and see what the response is. Anything that is aligned with love will love you right back and that should be felt unmistakeably. Any other response is grounds for sending them away.

(This process can also be used to clear any disempowering aspects of one's own psyche.)