Surrender, Spirituality and Specters

Thursday…  I’m glad that you’re here… I miss you, mostly on Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays….

After a lot of prompting by S, I joined eHarmony last night.  Probably a total waste of $20.  I wasn’t really attracted to any of my “matches”.  But, I should give it some more time… ONE MONTH to be exact!

I also edited some of my photos on the free dating site… added less “sensual” ones… however; I didn’t have any photos with a puppy.  We will see if that changes anything, I doubt that it will.

I know, I know, I have unrealistic expectations… but DAMMIT, I’m so tired of all of this.  I also know that I’m probably trying too hard.  So as of this moment, I am going to stop trying so hard.  I am going to go with the flow… just let things happen as they will.  That’s so ridiculously hard for me! 

I was emailing a friend in NC this morning and he brought up the fact that he gets messages from the Christian Reich sometimes, and automatically knows that they are incompatible.  I’ve previously mentioned that I feel the same way.

But I notice sometimes that people say that they are “spiritual, not religious”, what the fuck does that even mean?   

Are they simply confused?

Are they afraid of a commitment?

Are they just afraid to say that they are an atheist or agnostic?  I guess that’s a commitment issue.

I suppose I fall more in the agnostic category.  I just don’t know.  There are many things that cannot be explained away by science, etc… at least not by the science that we understand at this point in our evolution.  Could that be because a god is responsible? 

No fucking clue.

But, if there is a god that supposedly loves us beyond reason, why do so many fucked up, horrific things happen?  Well I suppose if I get behind the god theory, then I have to embrace the satan theory as well, so that would explain the fucked up, horrific things.

My Grandmother was the most god fearing woman you would ever meet.  Not an unkind word was ever said about her, she was truly and angel on earth.  Yet… she suffered, greatly.  So much that it effectively destroyed what little faith I may have had.

I mean fair is fucking fair.  If you’re a good person, generous, loving, faithful… why would your god make you suffer like that? 

Oh yea, “he won’t give you more than you can carry.”

Whatever.

Why must he continually test people that have proven their faithfulness?

Seems to me like that’s a jerk thing to do, misusing his power, in my opinion.

Ok, so back to being “spiritual”...

Here is how Wikipedia defines “Spirituality”:

 Spirituality is the concept of an ultimate or an alleged immaterial reality;^[1] an inner path enabling a person to discover the essence of his/her being; or the "deepest values and meanings by which people live."^[2] Spiritual practices, including meditation, prayer and contemplation, are intended to develop an individual's inner life. Spiritual experiences can include being connected to a larger reality, yielding a more comprehensive self; joining with other individuals or the human community; with nature or the cosmos; or with the divine realm.^[3] Spirituality is often experienced as a source of inspiration or orientation in life.^[4] It can encompass belief in immaterial realities or experiences of the immanent or transcendent nature of the world.

I really don’t know any more than I did before I looked up the definition.  I suppose that basically, you believe in yourself and other humans and immaterial realities.
I don’t know what an immaterial reality is? A god, goddess?

Ok, I’m tired of thinking about this.

But I do want to talk about things we cannot understand.  The paranormal to be exact.
I’ve always been enamored with ghosts.  It may be associated with the first house I can recall living in.  just a plain ole farm house, two story, nothing fancy.  My bedroom was a tiny room right off of the kitchen, it was painted blue as I recall.

I’ve never had a “normal” sleeping pattern, I’ve suffered nightmares, night terrors and been a sleep walker.  So I’ve spent many, many hours lying awake in every bed I’ve occupied.

So as a young child living in this seemingly benign farmhouse, I heard “things”, mostly footsteps.  ALL NIGHT LONG.

As I would lay their in my little twin bed, listening to OBVIOUS footsteps I would try to convince myself of one of two things. 

#1 “I’m a little kid and that is all my imagination.”
#2 Maybe it’s just bats in the attic.

You’d think that bats would also be frightening to a little girl, but it sounded preferrable to the undead.  I mean, aside from their potential proclivity for blood sucking, at least they were REAL.

So, for most of 8 years, that was how my nights were spent.  Pretty awesome, right? No wonder I’m fucked up.

When I was 12, we moved, to another OLD house.  I never really experienced anything in that house.  Odd things did happen there as my father was remodeling the front portion of the house.  An electric sander turned itself on and sanded a large portion of the floor, the radio would turn itself on and program itself to a station that my father did not listen to… things like that.  But we would just take those things with a grain of salt, to me it was better than hearing the incessant footsteps that would nearly drive a person mad.
The only audio thing that happened there was the sound of car doors slamming.  It wasn’t constant, but would make you go look out the window occasionally.

Fastforward to my adulthood.  I am living in a little Cape Cod house, built in 1950.  I live there for several years with NOTHING bizarre happening.

Then, I start working on my family tree.  I get a little obsessive about it, as I tend to do about things.  Very little was known about my father’s family as my grandfather was orphaned during the Influenza epidemic and he didn’t know a whole lot and preferred not to talk about it.

After a lot of research and making some connections, I find my Great, great, great, great grandfather’s information and his grave!  My father and I traveled to the mountains of eastern KY to visit it.  It was in a neat little cemetery that belonged to the family of his wife.  It was very emotional seeing his Civil War military headstone that was quite worn down from the years of weather.  We paid our respects and left flowers and a flag.  I would venture to guess that we were the first of our particular branch of the family to pay our respects in over 100 years.

In my research, I also discovered a letter written by his wife’s cousin that described how my GGGG Grandfather died. 

As I mentioned, it was during the Civil War.  When I first discovered his death date, I tried to match it up with known battle dates in the area, but there was no correlation.  So, I mistakenly assumed that he died due to illness as so many soldiers did.

The letter painted a far different picture than I expected. 

According to the cousin, GGGG Grandpappy and other members of his Union regimemt were kidnapped by Rebel Guerrillas in the Eastern Kentucky mountains.
They were lined up along the banks of Sycamore Creek and were being made to swear an oath to the Confederacy.  But instead, were all shot and left for dead.  There was, however, one lone survivor who was able to relay the story.

His poor wife was left with 4 young children to raise.  She did remarry and my GGG Grandfather was sent to live with some distant family.  This wasn’t uncommon during such a dark period in our country’s history.  Fractured families were commonplace, it’s a wonder the nuclear family even made a reappearance.

Ok, so that was what I think is the backstory to the next ghost story…

My bedroom at the time was in the attic/halfstory of the little Cape Cod.  The first experience took place in the bedroom one morning, early before my alarm went off.
I awoke (oddly) before the alarm.  There was always some light that would stream in through the window to the left of my bed from the streetlight.  So the room was always dimly lit.

I opened my eyes to see, standing at the foot of my bed, a young man who appeared to be in his early to mid twenties.  He was wearing trousers, a longsleeved button down shirt and suspenders, he was grayish and opaque.  He appeared to be from somewhere around the turn of the century.
He stood at the foot of my bed, immediately to the left of it with his left arm extended out over my feet.

I stared at him.  I didn’t feel frightened at all, I could easily tell that he wasn’t at all malevolent.  As I lie there staring, he took a step or two toward me and DISAPPEARED!
I really didn’t mention it to anyone, as I really didn’t have anyone to mention it to, and the people I was closest to already thought that I was legitimately crazy.
Then a week or so later, I was lying in bed reading, no one else was in the house.  I heard footsteps.  The bedroom/attic was just one large open room that the stairs opened up into, everything was visible from the bed.
I heard “someone” ascend the steps and as I watched the same young man came into view.  He rounded the corned past the stair rail and disappeared once again.

Another night, I was again home alone, upstairs, when I heard the door at the the foot of the stairs open and a male voice call “Beth…”  and then I watched him ascend the steps once again.  After a shiver or two I went downstairs to make sure no one was in fact home, they were not and all of the doors were securely locked.

I saw him come up the steps a few more times, not long after I relocated my bedroom downstairs, not because of him but because of the warmth.  I never saw him again.
In my heart, I believe that he was my GGGG Grandfather, Reason, come to thank me for finding him, finally after approximately 144 years.  I do not believe that it was someone attached to the house, his appearance predated the house anyway.  I firmly believe he was attaached to me, especially since he called my name.

It made me feel very special and connected.

I currently live in an apartment in a 1928 Tudor building.  I haven’t seen any real apparitions, but I do, from time to time see shadows moving out of the corners of my eyes.  It doesn’t frighten me, I’m sure there are people that have been in residence far, far longer than me.