Ghost Stories

Orbs on Halloween in Tucson, 2009 (photo by Ginny Moss)

Towards the end of her life, Elizabeth Kubler Ross, the author of  "On Death And Dying", believed there was no death, only transformation from the physical to other states of being.  As a member of IANDS (International Association of Near Death Studies)**, and having heard quite a few speakers discuss their experiences, I have come to agree.  That, and the many personal experiences I've had (not an NDE, however).

This is a time to remember those we've lost, and times that have passed, and this is a journal, so I felt like telling a "ghost story" of my own.  It's sad that the people who  most need to hear  are  closed to it.

Orbs in night sky at my house (2011)

In 2008 my brother, Glenn, had a massive brain stem stroke.  He is brain dead, and because he left no living will, he is sustained entirely by life support - a machine breathes for him, another one drips nutrients.  He's not there.  But because my mother and other brother will not allow it,  I am unable to remove life support and allow him to die with dignity. And so it continues, and they visit him, continually grieving, and of course, any discussion about my "metaphysical ideas" is out of the question.  So I've had to accept the situation, and I have also consulted a medium, whose reading seemed both accurate and comforting in that she said he had "crossed over" and was at peace.

So here's my story.  Last year I renovated my mother's house, because I needed to rent rooms, as my mother is now in assisted living.  My brother's room had a closet where he kept his gun collection, and I didn't have a key for it because my other brother, David, who lives in California, insisted on keeping them in the house for sentimental reasons.  To me, Glenn's guns represented the unhappiness and fearfulness he lived with the last years of his life, and getting rid of them seemed like a way to transform that negativity for his spirit.   I didn't have the key (but I tried the lock numerous times) - so I figured I'd put off the issue for the time being.  But I did renovate his room, replacing the floor, and purposefully painting it sky blue, which symbolized spiritual freedom and expansion.

As I was painting sky blue around the closet door it very gently opened!  I stood there with my mouth open as well, and then I took out the guns in the closet, went to a local gun shop, sold them, and sent the money to several charities for children, as well as sponsoring a little girl in Nepal with PLAN International for my brother, transforming all that sad energy into helping children.  Which I think he knew I would do, and I am certain that's why the closet opened............his way of letting me know it was fine.  And I believe he is fine too.  Not his body, but his spirit.

About Orbs (above) - if they are just "dust motes" on the camera, how do you explain the way the orbs in the top picture recede into the distance?  To see more of the amazing Orb Photos (and art) of Ginny Rothwell visit this link.

Blue Orb, taken by Charles Spillar, at my house, 2011.
 Charlie asked for "a colored orb" before he took the picture.  It seems they obliged him.

 **IANDS has been investigating NDE's for over 30 years, and have an annual conference - I applaud them for their dedication and the help they've brought to many.  I do have to make a comment here, in that I've heard a number of speakers talk about "meeting Jesus" and "finding Heaven", which, upon returning to their normal lives, they have interpreted as evangelical Christianity.  But I also know that people who are from other parts of the world meet Mohammed, or Buddha, or Tara, or Krishna.......I think that the Beings of Light we encounter manifest in ways that are familiar and comprehensible to the dying.

Angels in Nebraska - Part 2.

I have noticed, in fact, it's become obvious over the years, that we live in a world of everyday miracles. In an earlier BLOG entry (March 2008) I was awed to find, right on the street near where I lived, an autographed copy of a book by Nobel Laureate Doris Lessing - perhaps one of the most magical entries in my "Book of Common Miracles". Where does magic really begin, and when and where are the "Mythic Times", if not here, and now? So as I prepare to toddle down the road again, I want to put this on my blog as well, something that happened in 2005 as well.

In May of 2005 I began the long trip from Arizona to Connecticut for a residency at IPark Artists Enclave; I have been privileged to participate in two residencies there, and I will always be grateful to Ralph, Joanne, and the staff of Ipark for their generosity, support of the environment, and the arts.

It takes me about 5 long days to cross this enormous country. After a pleasant night among the pines in Flagstaff, I stopped at a rest stop in New Mexico, squatting on the ground and enjoying the view. Dusting off my skirt, I noticed a pair of fancy pliers literally at my feet. They seemed a useful find, so I picked them up and put them in my car. By the time I reached Missouri, I decided to take a detour to Nebraska, to find the graves of my grandfather and grandmother in Dewitt, a small village in the prairie near Beatrice. When my beloved grandmother, Glen, died in 1966, my family lived overseas, and my father flew alone back to the U.S. to return her body to Nebraska.

No one had visited those graves in 40 years, my own father, Kent, having passed away in 1976. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to pay my respects at last, to see as an adult the country she filled my imagination with. All I had was a child's memory of driving across the midwest with my family in the '50's, and endless Black-eyed Susans dancing and hissing in the hot prairie winds.

Dewitt is a village of maybe 4,000 people. It is still prosperous, thanks to a tool and die factory that has been successful since the 1920's. Petersen Manufacturing is particularly known for its founder's invention, the Vise-Grip Wrench. Which is why it's called the Vise-Grip Corporaton. 

When I found the old graveyard, I planted some flowers, said what I had to say to my grandmother's spirit and drove on, feeling very glad I made the trip.

After arriving in Connecticut, I cleaned out my car, and there were the pliers I found at my feet in the red dirt of western New Mexico. Stamped on the side was the legend:

"Vise-Grip: The Original"