MARK YOUR CALENDAR for Saturday, Sept. 24th! A BOOK FAIR FESTIVAL at A Brewed Awakening Coffee& Book Shop, 610 Craghead St. Danville, VA. Please come out and say “hello”. !0 am to 2 pm on the sidewalks. Come hungry for books and for some good foods! The event is hosted by Bonnie & John Hale. They host a BOOK FAIR FESTIVAL twice a year, spring & fall.
I’ll be there with books in hand, enjoying the day, talking about ghosts and whatever subjects come up. COME OUT AND SEE WHAT IT’S ALL ABOUT!
Filed under Book Fair/Festival, books, booksigning, coffee, espresso, general, hauntings, living with ghosts, paranormal, Poetry, writing
LIVING WITH GHOSTS
History often plays such a big part in a haunting. It seems some folks felt such passion about the place they once lived and the events that took place while they lived there, that they just don’t want to leave it. Remember that time in the afterlife is not like we count time here on earth.
It’s not unusual for a Revolutionary War soldier to show up in a Bordentown house, as it has in a couple (Living with Ghosts) where so much intense passion was felt during that period. In the Anderson Street and the White House stories, both places went under some major remodeling. This really brings the spirits out of the woodwork, and it takes a lot of time for them to settle back down again.
Of course, I don’t know why they should care, they just walk through walls (where the doorway used to be) anyway. Wow. What a talent to have!
LIVING WITH GHOSTS
Moving into my new home requires a good smudging even though the house bursts with the best spirit ever. I start at my front door, give thanks to the four directions as I turn to face each one. The spirit above and the spirit below are added to those thanks for my blessings. Especially for being right here where I am meant to be for my best living right now.
As soon as I step inside (I don’t even look to see if the neighbors are watching. Perhaps I’m unknowingly teaching them something.) I light the sage sitting in my large conch shell, with a wooden match. It’s important to use a wooden match. As the smoke rises, I wave it outward with the eagle feather that I found in the forest one day. Walking clock-wise, I go from room to room, chasing negative spirits away, if there are any around, and inviting good spirits to come join me, watch over me (and cat Lizzie) to share in my joy of being here. Lizzie follows in my footsteps. She’s done this before, too.
There. Done. The house carries the aroma of burnt sage, a cleansing odor that comforts.
When I was still living in Bordentown, a lady stopped in my bookshop to ask a question. She wanted to buy a particular house in town and wanted to know if it was haunted. I didn’t know of any haunts hanging around the house, yet encouraged her to smudge, anyway. She was new to the concept. . . . I like spreading the word that helps others.
Lizzie snoozing after a good read
Now that Mz Lizzie and I are moved into our new home, settling in, I’ve returned to the joy of watching her. She is so happy to be back in a home with just her and me, full of peace and good spirits in the house. Soft sounds of music float in the air while I sit on the rug and brush her. She purrs with love and contentment, reaching out her paw to touch my hand in gratefulness.
I tossed a familiar, thick towel of hers, onto the floor of the closet in her own bedroom on the first morning that we arrived here. That’s been her ‘go to’ place to hide out when she wants to.
We quickly found a convenient out-of-the-way spot for her water and food bowls. When they empty, she’ll come to me, sweetly asking in her best ‘meow’ words to come fill ‘er up. She gives her ‘thank you’ with a soft nuzzle at my ankle.
She’s taken to walking under and around a dining room chair and turning around and doing it again. It’s an “I’m doing this because I can.” thing. She sprawls out in the middle of the floor of each room, because she can. No dog and no one to tell her no or move or looks at her negatively. It is all her domain that she shares with me, gladly. I never tell her no, well, almost never. That one more bowl of dried food that she wants, but is not good for her anti-diabetic diet that I refuse her. She also loves to spread out in each doorway connecting rooms. That is something new for her to do in this lovely cottage of ours.
Cats are so tuned in to us real, live people as well as spirits who have stayed behind or drop in for a visit now and then. While going over my notes for my upcoming memoir, I came across a notation about an interview done in Bordentown a few years ago. Lora was telling me about the three cats that lived in her apartment at the time; her cat, her daughter’s Maine Coon cat, Draven von Lichtenstein, and a shadow cat. The shadow cat came with the apartment. He was just a shadow that ran from one room to another, leaped up onto the kitchen table, or jumped down from the sunny windowsill with a loud “b-r-r-p” just like the ‘live’ cats did.
As I sat at the kitchen table to record Lora’s story, I lay my folder in front of me. Lora’s cat leapt up, snuggled onto that folder and looked up at me, as if to say, “Get this all down right. I’m here to be sure you don’t miss a thing.” And that is where the cat stayed, throughout the entire interview, never moving, eyes watching me, interested in all that was said.” Cats are amazing!
From Living with Ghosts
LOVING WHAT I DO
Arlene Sandra Bice
Finishing my memoir-interviewing for the next ghostly book-reaching for submissions for this year’s anthology-seeking recipes for the cookbook, accepting stories for the grandmother’s book-writing lesson plans for the writers’ groups-formatting a teaching program-planning a new poetry book-publishing books for others!
It’s about to drive me over the edge
there are not enough hours in the day, yet
I love what I do
cannot give up
time with friends
will not give up
Tai Chai Chih
I love what I do
of gratitude for it
thankful for it
so there is no answer
I just love what I do.
This book begins with a punch and ends with a punch, and in between is a story that is nearly impossible to put down. Be prepared to sit up all night reading.
The story opens with Mary Helen Hensley in a hospital coming back to life after a fatal car accident. She was nearing her 22 birthday. I began marking the paragraphs and underlining sentences on page 5 and continued until the end.
Hensley holds nothing back. She doesn’t make herself out to be a hero, just a woman trying her best to do good and to get through life, being loved and loving. She tells us how difficult that can be. Her pain when life hits low points, are not hidden, but laid out there for you to understand. Her metaphysical experiences are clearly explained, so you can understand those, too.
Her writing about her life and metaphysical experiences has led me to understand many of my own. This is a book to keep and read again and again, learning more from it each time. Thank you, Mary Helen Hensley for writing this book.