Do Ghosts really exist?
I think they do, and not just at Halloween, although we may
be more likely to see them during that season when the veil between the worlds
is thin.
Maybe we're simply more likely to dwell on ghosts and the
spirits of our departed as fall, the dark side of the year, descends upon us,
and the season's growth slows, browns, and finally, dies.
The most popular explanation of ghosts are the departed
souls of people who left this life abruptly, and still don't understand that
they are dead. Others believe ghosts are those who have left some important
thing undone in their life, or having suffered some great injustice, are
sticking around to do that last chore or correct that injustice.
My favorite theory evolves from physics. If you think back
to high school science lessons, you will recall that energy cannot be
destroyed, only converted to some other form. People are bundles of energy, so
I ask you: what happens to that energy when a person dies?
If energy doesn't die with the human body, but is instead
converted to something else…where does it go? And what does it look like?
There are as many
theories as there are religions on earth, plus some that have nothing to do
with a religious leaning. Those who believe in ghosts think that all or part of
that energy remains on earth, albeit in a different form. Since I also believe
in reincarnation, I not only accept the presence of ghostly energy, but also
imagine a living pool of energy, blended spirits of human, plant and animal,
circling throughout the cosmos, with new life siphoned from it constantly.
But, to get back to earth—the energy present in a person's
home is the result of all the energetic beings within it. The people (and pets)
who live in a certain home eventually imprint that structure with their
energies. Have you ever walked into
someone's house and immediately felt welcomed and happy? Believers would say
the occupants' positive energies are part of the house. On the other hand,
consider a home where there was a murder, a suicide, or some other violent
episode—even a contentious divorce. That turbulent energy could cause a house
to become haunted.
I confess, once a paranormal writer accepts the possibility
of ghosts, so many scene possibilities arise (pun intended).
First encounters with a ghostly entity, even a friendly one,
can be terrifying, as the main character in my book, Song of the Ancients,
discovers, when the veil between the worlds is parted during a Samhain ritual
on All Hallows' Eve:
The man in the circle knelt beside a mound of dirt, digging
his hands deep, cupping the soft red earth in his palms as he stood and began
to chant.
"Dust to dust,
The rocks in time
dissolve
Into the oneness of
the Universe.
I call forth the
Ancient Ones
To join us and impart
their wisdom."
He raised his arms in front of him and parted his fingers,
allowing the soil to fall between them to the ground.
I watched as the soil began to swirl like a tiny dust devil
in a powerful wind. Dozens of ghostly dust plumes formed around him, nearly
filling the circle.
Again he raised his eyes to the dark sky, moving his arms
in a sweeping motion, as if catching and gathering something. He yelled, to be
heard above the noise of the swirling dust and sand:
"At this time
the veil between the worlds thins.
The gates are thrown
open.
I welcome the spirits
who have gone before,
The Others who pass
between the two worlds.
Ancestors of old,
arise now!
Join the human bridge
awaiting you!"
From the shadows cast by the flickering fire, I watched one
of the dust devils separate from the others and spin toward me. Its outline
changed. I stared at the top of the swirl, and two glowing eyes stared back. An
arm formed, then a second, reaching toward me.
The air in the circle became unbearably hot. I wiped sweat
out of my eyes, and was slammed with a vision of the person inside the dust, so
clear it stopped my heart for one terrified beat. This can't be happening! The wraith bore the face of my mother,
dead for three years.
I tried to get away, but me feet tangled with the woman on
my left. The ghost grabbed for me, raking the back of my hand with her
fingernails. I screamed, sucking my breath in ragged pants. She reached for my
face with both hands, but I scrambled away from her outstretched arms.
The ghost stepped back, her eyes filled with sadness.
Terror gripped my mind like a vise. I could think of nothing but escape. I
flailed and kicked and crawled from the circle until I could stand, and run.
What do you think about ghosts, souls, energy
and reincarnation? I would love to hear from you.
Sandy Wright
loves to take ordinary characters and thrust them into extraordinary
situations.
In her debut
novel, Song of the Ancients, a
Midwestern woman moves west for a fresh start. Instead, she becomes the prey in
an ancient war to open an underworld portal buried in Sedona, Arizona's magical
red rocks.
Readers
interested in the dark side of our supernatural world will enjoy of this paranormal
suspense series, written by a real-life Wiccan high priestess.
