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.