PRELUDE TO GHOSTS

  

Do you believe in ghosts?

There seems to be two distinct camps divided on the subject - -  those people who never had a paranormal experience are likely to be skeptics or disbelievers. Those who have encountered some semblance of other-worldly entities are most often positively convinced that ghosts existence.

The subject of ghostly hauntings is murky, tricky, and tainted. Many incidents are founded on little more than hearsay, rumor, legend, exaggeration,  over-active imaginations, and fabrications.

I would have most likely been among the skeptics if I hadn't had several very real experiences. I can't confirm the existence of generic ghosts, but I very definitely believe in evil spirits, demons, and other entities of ill-intent.

The true story that I want to tell is about a haunted "magic" eight ball that I had as a child. The horrifying things connected with it were witnessed by both of my parents - who instantly became staunch believers of the supernatural. Since it's a long story, I'm going to save it for my next blog post.
(I initially posted it several ago, but feel that it's time to rehash it again)

How to enter the portal of paranormal activity? I can only provide an answer from personal experience - -

Intense concentration.

If you purposely clear your mind of all clutter and concentrate solely on the deepest realms of darkness, evil will eventually accept the invitation.

I absolutely do not condone this unholy indulgence, and strongly caution that this practice will inevitably yield dangerously negative results.

I am certainly no expert on this subject. I'm only relying on experiences of people that I've known, my own experiences, and pure common sense.

Demons and evil spirits are extremely clever and can dupe the uninitiated into destructive realms.

I believe that intense concentration was the beginning of the haunted eight ball ordeal - but I'll save that for another post.

Right now, I'm remembering an incident in my wayward youth in Southern California. It's not ghostly, but definitely weird.

There was a (brief) time when I was a quasi - hippie with Maharishi intent. I wore clothes and sandals from India and made (half-hearted) attempts to adopt East Indian culture.

Eventually I delved into transcendental meditation. I read several books about the subject and began practicing the methods.

The main prerequisite to this meditation was to completely clear the mind and concentrate intensely on one mental visual - - such as a single rose suspended in a black void. While concentrating on a phantom image, mentally reciting a mantra is employed.

This unconventional ritual supposedly generates relaxation and keen sense of perception.

It is virtually an impossibility to have a blank mind, but I faithfully practiced this meditative anomaly every night. Completely alone in a darkened room.

I did this for about a week, with no positive results.

I tried to increase my power of concentration and erase any thoughts from my mind.

One night, while in deep abstract meditation, a strange (uninvited) power came over my entire body and I was paralyzed. I couldn't move, and it was as if a dark overpowering force was taking over my mind and body.

I suddenly shouted "Satan, leave me!" I jumped up, turned a light on, and never meditated again.

Demons? Over-active imagination? Whatever. The energy was definitely negative.

At that time in my life a guru advised me to give up my worldly possessions and abstain from sex.

I had few worldly possessions.

I abstained from sex for about two hours.

I've had several ghostly encounters in a cemetery when I lived in the Missouri Ozarks.

An old Polaroid photo that I took at Maple Park Cemetery. The grave of a woman named Melissa who died at age 24 in the 1880s. There were always fresh flowers on her grave.

I was very familiar with the Maple Park Cemetery in Springfield, MO, and that's where several creepy incidents occurred. The oldest graves are located at the front of the cemetery and the newer ones are way in the back. 

In the brisk autumn weather, I was completely mesmerized by this cemetery. It was filled with gorgeous old trees that turned stunning colors in October.
Having been raised in seasonless Southern California, I was amazed at how a real seasonal autumn could be. I would spend countless hours trekking through the cemetery, collecting autumn leaves and savoring the intoxicating atmosphere.

There are several graves of Civil War soldiers located near some ancient trees. Sitting nearby during an autumnal twilight, I distinctly heard mournful moaning voices seemingly coming from the low-hanging tree branches above the graves. The moans were tainted with the cold, desperate, other-worldly sound of dying.

It wasn't my imagination. And the cemetery was deserted.

I said aloud "you're safe now - rest in eternal peace."

The moans eventually dwindled, then stopped. For some strange reason I wasn't really frightened by the incident. I was more fascinated.

The old gazebo at Maple Park Cemetery.

 The creepiest thing at the cemetery happened to me one dreary October afternoon on the day before Halloween. It was a very dark, chilly, damp  day. I was wandering aimlessly around - gathering autumn leaves and savoring the sinister misty atmosphere.

I eventually wound up in the far side of the cemetery, where the newer graves are. Seemingly out of nowhere, I discovered the grave of a young man who was born on my birthday - December 13th. The same year. He was 26 when he died.

As I was reading the headstone inscription I felt an icy chill and got an incredibly strange feeling as if I was not alone. I looked to my left and saw a very tall, murky dark thing next to me. It wasn't a person. It was more like an ominous cloudy shroud.
This wasn't my fanciful imagination.
It was really there.

I instinctively ran through the graveyard back to my car and took off as fast as I could.

I never went back to that part of the cemetery. In retrospect - many years later - I regret not returning and taking a photo of the grave.

I have much more to say, but this post is getting too long. 

I'm debating whether I should rehash my post about the haunted eight ball. It's my worst haunted experience.

I don't want to be boring.

Wait a minute - - - me boring??

Completely impossible!

Jon