Sunday, April 1, 2012

A Spirited Post. Part 1

I have a new favorite show on TV.
Granted, I don't watch a lot of reality shows.
I do like Project Runway, Top Chef and the occasional ANTM (if you watch this show, you know what I'm talking about), but don't care about watching a lady with 19 kids have another one or toothless swamp people or people competing in challenges where they have to eat bat dung or whatever.
But nowadays I do need a distraction from the reality that is my life.
So, with that said, I have a new favorite show.
Long Island Medium.
This lady who lives on Long Island can talk to the dead.
She is constantly surrounded by spirits.  The deli, the car wash, her home, the winery, her friends' homes.  Everywhere.
And if she sees you and is compelled to tell you about the spirit who is next to you, watch out.  She's going to whether you want to hear it or not.
And she is spot on.
She knows things that she shouldn't know.
It can be quite emotional to watch.
And I am captivated by it all.

Now, I don't know what happens after a person dies.
I don't believe in God and I don't believe in Heaven or Hell.
I'm more prone to believe in extra terrestrials.
The big question has always been...do we have a spirit?
A soul?
Who really knows. 
I don't know and you don't know.
But I believe that things happen to those in the here and now that can't be explained.
Like on the show Long Island Medium.
And in my own experiences...

Our home has been in my family since the early 1900's. 
My children are the sixth generation of our family to live on this land.
The cemetery to the north of our property is the resting place of the ancestors who lived here prior.
One even died in our living room where our brown couch now sits.
That would be Hazel, my great-great grandmother.


We have never "seen" anyone here who doesn't currently belong here, but we have heard and smelled things beyond our abilities to comprehend.

For instance...
One evening I heard a man calling my name from the kitchen.
I thought it was Chad.
It was not.
He was in the bedroom.
Creepy.

Another instance:
I have smelled cigarette smoke in various rooms. 
We do not smoke.
The generations before us were all chain-smokers.
Double creepy.

And yet another instance...
My grandmother wore a signature perfume.
Shalimar by Guerlain.
It's a very distinct smell.
We have all (myself, Chad and Zoe) smelled this perfume while sitting in our living room.
For me, it's not just an aroma that is present in the room.
It's more of an intense in my face, up my nose, in my head, all encompassing smell.
It's my grandmother.
Which is not so creepy after all. 

This house was her childhood home.
She raised my father here.
She loved this house and this land.

I've often wondered why we don't see more ghosts here. 
The cemetery can be seen from our yard.
I used to play there as a child.
It's just over the north fence.
I read a book recommended by a friend called When Ghosts Speak.
The author is the inspiration behind the show "Ghost Whisperer" and she states in the book that ghosts thrive on energy.  There's not a lot of energy in a cemetery, hence the lack of activity there.  Makes sense to me.    
A favorite blog of mine, Bedlam Farm, has the author recanting his own ghost story and it's quite interesting.   
I think everyone has a spirit story somewhere in them.

I've always loved a good ghost story.
I've always thought of cemeteries as great places to walk and think and explore.
I'll expand on the cemetery and the spirit world in some future posts.
Stay tuned.

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