Gosh, I love taking it all out…the past week has been non-stop and sometimes I wonder how to get it all done, but I just keep showing up and pushing through.

I want to do it all, I want to hang out with my girls, soak up my time with my nephew, he’s going to be a senior next year and this is probably our last summer just to hang out together.  He’s been staying with me since he was 8 – our summer time together has really meant a lot to me.  Bella is loving having him around and Lola too…Last week was interesting the girls were invited to a birthday party last minute and of course since my new “motto” is to join and not isolate keeping my “PLEASE, DON’T MAKE ME CONNECT” at bay.

I shifted everything around to get there; the little girl hosting the party is a new camp friend.  I was thrilled to meet her two dads, as fo’sho this is a world that I can fit into.  The best part was the cake, one of the dad’s – had made it singing of the 1970’s Tennessee – as he used an old school Barbie to top it!  I was reminded of my grandmothers 1970’s toilet roll covers that were hand crocheted; a totally warm and cozy feeling.

I sat down and took it all in, one of the dad’s leads ghost tours here in the city; I didn’t know they gave ghost tours – but now it makes sense as they do in most old cities with horse drawn carriages.  With a relaxed slip I said “Oh, I know this town is haunted – we’ve had our own experience.”  Then an elderly woman sitting next to me started to talk about “The House With Whispering Walls.”  Apparently she lived in the neighborhood long ago when things went down.  She used to play in that house as a child.

Again the room got cold and crowded, I became super uncomfortable and I knew that their memories – those that live in the walls – were next to me.

Oh, man I was torn between wanting to go there and asking as many questions as possible…and not participating.  The lady next to me however was intriguing; as she shared her experiences I put pieces together.  Not wanting to reveal too much and conflicted with the fact that this was not an appropriate place to discuss all of this.  However the kids were off on jumpy playground equipment and not in earshot.  I had to hold back and connect the dots – feeling protective of what I’d experienced and my relationship with the memories of that house.

The owner of the house had attempted to convince me that NO one before us had undergone anything uncomfortable while living in the house, including the family that lived there during the tragedy.  In fact she ran a list of how happy folks had been.  She’d forgotten that when we first moved in she’d taken me to lunch and spoke openly about how her husband had become paranoid and drank to much – destroying their marriage; sounds like a happy time.

According to my birthday party guest many folks who’d lived in that house had stumbled down a tragic path – including the original owners.  According to the elderly woman two of the originals had suffered deeply…one drinking herself to death and the other taking her own life.

That’s the thing when we live within the energetic memories of others…we are influenced, especially if these memories are kept alive by many living beings.

It’s the argument over say alcoholism – it’s not just genetically passed down but energetically – like if your dad was a drunk and he never drank in front of you, he still lived in that house with you and the feelings of a drunks space effect us.  When we grow up we’ve become influenced by this drunk’s way of living and find ourselves either drinking or again living with an addict – recreating the energy of our childhood.  That old saying – we are whom we hang around – is true.

Moving into a house that holds deep secrets, sadness and loss can only invoke those feelings within current residents.  Especially if the house itself has never been cleaned or even acknowledged.

My dreams there were paranoid, frightening and full of what I couldn’t speak out against or protect.  Since moving into our current house I’ve not had ONE dream like this.

I went to see Happy Son Of My People the next day; you see he’s not just an acupuncturist but also a Rabbi in the making– a Kabalistic teacher to me.  He had come to our old house when things got really crazy and he himself saw the face of what went on there.  When I walked into his office I climbed upon the table and told him “they are back.”

He immediately set to placing needles throughout my body, particularly certain points on the bottom of my feet.  Let me tell you shorty, these points HURT – I felt like I was stepping on nails.  When I asked him in Hebrew – “Mazay” (what is that point) he said “Kapara those are soul points, they are setting a boundary and opening your comprehension to other worlds and other life times.”  Then we spoke of what was going on, he said, “They want you to use your voice. You understand from the inside out what went on there, do you want to write it?”

I felt very quiet, not sure…then I drifted off into a dreamlike state that only the acupuncture needles take me too.  I saw an arrow and then a bulls-eye, the bulls-eye turned into the “Eye of God” known to some as the “Evil Eye” as it is said to protect one from negativity. 

Then I heard the elderly woman from the birthday party, her voice rang in my ears she asked did I have protection?  Then she asked had there been any stigmata in the house – I would have thought this incredibly bizarre – but instead I wondered how she could have known?

I woke up from my dream like state, still not sure if I wanna go there…Happy Son Of My People told me to talk to “them – the memories of the whispering walls” ask them what is it that they want to convey and then tell them that I need to do this in my own time and in my own way.

The elderly woman had wanted to get together and talk some more…I just gotta figure out if I really want to go  there; do I really want to know anymore? Or do I know too much as it is?  She did tell me that it wasn’t the spirits that were touchy about this story but also the living humans that remember.

The other day I drove by our old house, the one with “Whispering Walls”.  It’d been sometime since I’d passed, not because I consciously was trying to avoid it but because my daily driving route has changed.

Ever since passing by my mind has been hooked by memories of what we experienced there, I know I left you all hanging but it was for good reason – once we knew what we knew it was all I could do to pack as fast as humanly possible and get out.  I’ve not spoken in detail about what went down, not because the landlord asked me not too, which she did and I respecting her didn’t want to hinder the future sale of her home, however I did inform her that in good faith she must tell future renters  -  had I known I’d never have moved in there – but of course it was all perfect, had we not moved in there our presence couldn’t have shifted a very old situation the way that it did….I’m getting ahead of myself, sorry.

My real reason for not writing was because the darkness that did what it did in that house was so big I fo’sho didn’t want it following me via my memories to our new house; my Poppy (my grandfather) always said “Decide where you stand the light or dark, once you make that decision stick with it.”  So at a young age I KNEW I was fixn’ to walk in the light – avoiding as best as possible any interaction with darkness.

I have NEVER been a fan of horror movies, scary books and to tell the truth Halloween and it’s “Evil” characters kind of creep me out. Dressing up in funny things are cool with Mee & of course vampires as I am obsessed with the idea of immortality; the thought of what it would be like to really get good at this human reaction thing is intriguing.

The Day of the Dead, is one of my favorite holidays – because it’s not about sadness but again celebrating the connection as we pass through the veils of this world – death is not evil its an intricate part of life.  With all this said and my deepening comprehension of memories, time & ghosts – that our memories actually are what haunts our hallways and dreams – what went down in our last Casa is revealing it’s self with a new perspective.

Tonight I spoke to a friend on the phone that I’d not caught up with since before Thanksgiving, and well it was the day after the Thanksgiving weekend that everything began to unravel and the truth would not remain hidden – the clanging of cupboards and doors was no longer something we could ignore.

As I began to tell her, why we’d moved so suddenly; the room got cold and felt as if it were crowding in on me.  Before I could even finish the first sentence my friend suddenly said you know what let’s not talk about this, my body is covered in chills. I said thanks, we can talk about it later when I see you in California.

After we hung up, I sat alone in my room and yet that crowded feeling filled the space – I thought of Senora Gina and how she nips situations, folks & thoughts in the butt -”Oh, No We Aren’t Going There”  came out of my mouth, with the same I’m not playing around tone as Senora used when with me when the possibility of Cancer knocked on my door.

Just like a bully on a playground pulls back from someone who stands up to them – refusing to feed their poison -  I did not participate – this is how one stays in the light; and so the energy in my room shifted.

What left remaining was her, I thought of her all night….the one who’s story I have tried to leave behind.  Not such an easy task being a truth teller.

So I will wait and in time maybe I will write more, but I know that I will not pass that house again because they will feel me, and then I will hear their memories…

That’s the thing about memories they are everywhere and can really be heard, the more attention that a memory has been given the more power it has in the present.

I’m too tired to write anymore and like I said sunrise is many hours away and this is a tale I shall write from the light of the Convent.