2,000 earthbound spirits released today!

30 05 2010

Just thought you might be interested in my day to day duties helping earthbound spirits to go back home to the light whilst helping those still alive (LOL!) to shake off their dark cloaks of fear, depression, stress, mental and emotional and even psychic ‘hangers-on’!

Thursday 27th May 2010 was a typical day for me, starting at 8.30 am with a one hour long distance healing and clearing of a friend’s energy centres – who happened to be flying to Egypt at the time!  (I had wondered whether I would be able to keep up with the speed of a jet (ie 500 mph?) but all I had to do was visualise myself standing behind her seat on the plane – and it worked a treat!)   

After a particularly traumatic break up with a long term boyfriend (with whom she is still in love) she had naturally been left feeling devastated, extremely low and weighed down by the world on her shoulders.  As soon as I ‘made contact’ with her, she understandably released a huge amount of emotional stress, indicated by the furious spinning of my dowser.  Then oceans of  spiritual stress released in the same way….followed by 22 earthbound spirits, who were detached from the psychic level – yet more spinning and such visuals as ‘a mad monk’, ‘a bandmaster’ and a ‘chappie in a kilt’ were glimpsed as they pushed their way into the vortex of light created by my dowsing.  All in all, my friend was 496 spirits lighter by the time I had finished.   I look forward to her feedback when she returns from her break….

2pm and a client arrives in my healing room for her usual reiki and crystal therapy session but instead tells me of a young friend of the family who has a severe form of leukemia and is about to undergo chemotherapy.  She felt drawn to telling me and I had no choice when my healers from the light automatically flew to his aid – on and on and on – and with every impression related back to my client she was able to confirm that his ‘poisoned blood’ had been as a result of his personal emotional and spiritual suffering.  For 55 minutes, earthbound spirits poured from his energy field! (and I was left with a very sore and flattened forefinger from clutching the madly swinging chain of my dowser, but oh such a satisfied feeling!).  When at last it stopped, we added up the spirits from each part of his body who had become trapped over many years in a like-attracts-like situation and whose low energies had no doubt contributed to the lad’s illness.  Trapped around his heart alone were  49 on the emotional level, 2 on the spiritual and behind his heart (older experiences) were 27 on the emotional and an astounding 101 on the psychic and 18 on the cosmic (a higher spinning level above the psychic aura)….At this stage my spiritual helpers called enthusiastically,

Hooray, Hooray!  Carry on!”

Around the throat (communication area) were 112 – several of whom called back ‘morons!’ as they left.  My client said this was the sort of expression the boy would use.  Altogether, 1,020 earthbound spirits were hooked out of the lad’s physical, emotional, spiritual and psychic bodies.  The next day, my client phoned with the news that the same evening (and after his first chemotherapy session) the boy was sitting up smiling and more like his old self and that his mother was delighted – and she had no doubt that our timely intervention had helped him enormously on his long road to complete recovery.

5.30 pm A psychic Carribean lady came to my healing room for a regular clearing of her energies and her home.  She invariably needs help in moving on ‘the naughty spooks’ who this time had ‘tapped her on the shoulder’ – cheeky things’ and even ‘walk RIGHT through ma home’‘even a black man was standing in my toilet!’ she squeeled – ‘and I says to him ‘Now YOU just get outa here!’  The garden was particularly bad this time, with her equally psychic daughter (who is a reiki student of mine and also discovered the gift of moving on spirits after she had received her level two attunements) saying she ‘washed her hands of it!’ – the energy was just too much for her to bear.

The moment I hooked on to my client’s wonderful crown energy 32 spirits left, followed by another 50!  When batches like this leave so quickly I close my eyes and do my best to report on the sort of characters I am releasing – although this is rather like trying to interview people as they race past me on a fast-moving escalater!  ‘Johnny, where’s your trousers?’; a ‘nanny’; a beekeeper; pet rabbits; someone who loves philadelphia cheese!  An Arthur Higginbottom; rats; weedkiller; something hidden in the bottom of a chest of drawers..….My lovely lady just looks bemused.  She picks them up from all over the place; attracted by her colourful personality but also her stressful situation with probate issues following her deceased husband’s indiscrepencies.  (He has come through to apologise more than once, but ‘that don’t help me now!’ she laughs)…. Many many levels of her energies are cleared over a period of almost an hour, followed by a relaxing but rejuvinating healing session and as a result her ‘swollen feet’ feel a lot better and she ‘feels so much lighter!’  50 (bikers; rockers; drug addicts; snorters; and a general ‘den of iniquity’) earthbound spirits are cleared from her back garden and 401 from her personal energy field.  By the time she leaves she has her old swing back in her step – and as her daughter arrives to collect her (having been cleared herself the day before of a similar amount of spiritual hitchhikers) she says ‘oh by the way, can you check MY house please – someone keeps going through to the kitchen and we hear footsteps upstairs in the evenings….. Happy to help!

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Waldo E Nutter shoots back with a message…

28 05 2010

“What a brilliant name!” I said to my husband, who is an exponent of  Manhattan Firearms (1958), written by professional engineer and gun collector….Waldo E Nutter!”

“Is he Resting In Peace?” was the inevitable question.  Yes, I ascertained that his spirit had reached the other side safely after his death (not known when) and enquired politely if it was possible to speak to him…

OK…fire away…” came the heavenly response (Good choice of words LOL!)

“Can you tell me how you died?” I asked Nutter.

“An infringement of my rights!”  he answered, but then I lost contact with him again.  Perhaps he had not got permission to talk to me or perhaps hadn’t booked a time with the heavenly co-ordinators?  After all,  I had only decided to call on him on the spur of the moment…  I tried again…

“Is Waldo there?  Can I talk to him?”

“Settlement.  They didn’t get the settlement right….” Waldo said, the connection back once more – and then shot off again (ha ha).   I waited a few seconds and then dipped back into the spiritual flow:

“What settlement?” I asked.   (Could he mean the act of bringing his spirit down to the physicality of myself in order to speak?)

Hitherto unknown….I put my heart and soul into it!” (and he shot off again)  It became apparent that this ‘shooting off again’ was a great source of amusement for those on the other side, as several of his ‘associates’ joined him in a ‘barrel’ of laughs.  Michael and I joined in with the banter but I was still curious about the ‘settlement’.

“Are you talking about the settlement when you died?” (As in a legal agreement)

“I was ravaged…I was ravaged!”  he cried. (No soul – as opposed to no-body – ever gives me a straight answer when I’m trying earnestly to be sensible.  There invariably has to be a double entendre or inuendo attached!)   At this point I was given an impression of the 1960’s and a vision of a man suffering terribly from gout…a poisoned toe….alcohol...and the song ‘blow the wind southerly’ was sung as a couple of earthbound associates of his were suddenly swept into the spiritual vortex, obviously needing a ‘leg up’!  I obligingly lifted them to the dizzy heights needed to cross the veil and returned to Nutter, who pointed out that his friends had ‘fallen by the wayside’.

“Is there anything sensible you wish me to pass on in my ‘what if spirits could blog’ then?”  I asked him – and to my relief he became earnest again. (‘Have I been Earnest before? LOL!”)

“There is a great need for restitution; salvation from tittletattle, uniformity in work life….Open Sesame!  Pandora’s Box!  Lift the lid.  Look inside.  There is so much to be discovered!  A veritable tinder box to be lit!  Bang bang bang…Take them by the arms  and show them how to fire straight.  Bang on target every time!  Pull the trigger slowly; take aim…(a pffffff sound).  The powder is lit.  Tell your story Madam.  Tell it with 5 bores!”

And he shot off again.

(Michael says that virtually all of the revolvers produced by the Manhattan Firearms Company had 5 chambers in the cylinder, thus providing 5 shots!)





Salvador Dali is ‘immortal’ – at last!

25 05 2010

Last night I couldn’t sleep, with blobs of mad whirling swirlings behind my eyelids, rather like a manic lava lamp, so I snatched my dowser from the sidelocker and ushered through a huddle of earthbound spirits under the given category ‘suger beet plantations’ – What was that all about?!  I closed my eyes but could not rid myself of the feeling of a belligerent soul battering on the door to salvation.  Then his name came through to me:  It was renowned and often reviled Spanish surrealist painter Salvador Dali…(1904 –  1989)

My dowser flung itself to the left and bounced chaotically as I reeled in his lost spirit.  Apologising to my husband as it was gone midnight, I switched on the side light and leapt out of bed to search for a scrap of paper to record the next step.  Dali spoke, then my dowser spun wildly around in a clockwise circle (normally indicative of the soul rising) but then stopped dead as he spoke again (the dowser swings continuously from left to right and back again during speech) – and this was repeated for a second and then a third time.  Below is a record of what he said at each stage of his spirit rising to new life:

1.  “My mind is but a confusion of lights and encircling mattter of constant movement!” (He was frantic, judging by the way he grabbed this chance for freedom from the living  purgatory of ‘between lives’)

2.  (Hope) “I have lifted from the dense matter of my inheritance….”

3.  (Joy!) “I am happy…I am elated…Bring on the flowers!”

Minutes later (on the other side, time does not exist as we know it on earth) he registered his safe arrival:

4.  “I am rested and I thank you greatly.”

Our bedroom door opened and our son peeped round, face screwed up.

“Is everything okay?”

“Oh yes thankyou – I’ve just helped Salvador Dali to go home.”

“Right, everything normal in the Hunting household then…” he said, and dragged himself back to bed. 

Come morning, a London friend ‘just happened’ to phone and I ‘just happened’ to mention my remarkable visitor to her. 

That’s funny….” she said, “We were going to watch a film last night but I’d recorded a programme on this very man from Sunday’s TV, so we watched that instead!  He was a very strange man!”  (And she continued to fill me in on some of his very surreal and downright revolting ways) 

“Oh, so it’s all YOUR fault then!” I laughed.  (Like attracts Like)  She’d also just arrived back from an overseas holiday and I meant to ask her whether she’d come across any ‘sugar beet plantations!

Finally, my research today turned up a personal quote from the artist whose public persona was one of ‘bizarre paranoia’ –

      “Dali is immortal and will not die” …

Through his safe transition from his self imposed ‘inheritance’ (ie his earthly personality traits and his unacceptance of the natural death experience from the physical to the spiritual body) his statement takes on a bright new meaning!  

It’s surprising what a little love (and therefore no fear or judgement) can do to help fellow members of mankind find their way home again – to spiritual immortality!





Happy Orby-ghost in ‘Christ Church’, Surrey!

23 05 2010

Two days after the rescue of Henry Ford’s spirit – when he had exclaimed ‘Christ Church!’ (an expression which a deceased Great Aunt of mine used when she was exasperated!!) – my husband had impromptu business in the County of Surrey (England) and we decided to stay overnight at a 16th century house – which, to my surprise, had no resident ghosts… We visited fantastic oldy-wordly pubs (several spirit rescues) and walked miles amidst beautiful, breathtaking scenery and woodlands dancing with blubells.  For two days we soaked up the sunshine and wallowed in good old English countryside, finishing with lunch at a lovely little pub in Coldharbour – and as we drove into the village we came across their beautiful church – which happened to be called ‘Christ Church!

We entered the coolness of the stunning building and the feeling of having been drawn there strengthened as I approached the front of the church and knelt facing the alter.  The peace was tangible; I felt at one with all of nature and happy with my lot.  I knew that my Maker continued to guide me in my work and that He had another task for me, as a circular sensation tickled the top of my crown.  Time stood still and everything felt Perfect.  After saying some prayers for my family and friends, I telepathically heard the hymn ‘Be Still for the Spirit of the Lord is with you…‘ so I stood still and closed my eyes.  I ‘felt’ a cloak being laid gently about my shoulders; a hood cover my head.  I ‘stepped outside of myself’ and looked at my earthly body: my face was translucent, my eyes shining.  Then the cloak and hood collapsed slowly to the stone floor of the Church, my body no longer inside!  Wow!  The tiny circle continued to prickle on my crown as I acknowledged an influx of lost souls, seemingly gathered from the surrounding area – so I took my dowser and helped them home.

It is highly unusual to find lost souls in a peaceful Church, but upon entering the door my face had tingled as a ‘lost soldier’ knocked on the spiritual door.  My husband had stood at the brass eagle lectern, reminiscing about the steadfast duties of his father’s weekly brass-polishing devotion to a similar lectern at his own little church in Edwalton (Notts.), and while he read aloud from the Bible (he is quite a character!) I had removed my dowser to investigate this one presence who had followed us inside:

His name was Hunt  and he had ‘died in battle’, and a second (unknown) lost soul alongside him took advantage of the open portal.  Michael pointed out that an officer of this very name was recorded along with several others from the village of Coldharbour and had been a member of the Coldstream Guards during the first world war.  He had been so devoted to his home town that (uderstandably) his spirit had returned after his death on the battlefield but lingered too long (over 3 months) and become stuck.  His family had since passed safely and now he was exhuberant to be reunited both with war colleages, villagers and loved ones.  He promptly sent for half a dozen colleagues and friends ‘missing from home’. 

‘Did Henry Ford cause the Huntings to drive past Christ Church on the Hunt for Officer Hunt?’ I giggled.  

“Long Live the Queen!” came the heavenly response…..

When I later uploaded the photos of our short break, I found the above picture taken in Christ Church, which clearly shows the ORB of Officer Hunt high above Michael as he reads from the Lectern!!! (See picture above)





The spirit of Henry Ford races home!

19 05 2010

Whilst dowsing and clearing a client of mine last weekend – amounting to over a hundred  lost souls whizzing home at great speed whilst my dowser flew on and on – the name Henry Ford came up and was ushered across the veil with lightning speed.  The lady’s partner and I exchanged puzzled looks, wondering if this was THE Henry Ford of car manufacturing fame…

Well they did apparently produce steel in Nottingham for Ford cars…” he enlightened me.

The next day I tuned in to Henry Ford’s spirit just to check on his status and it appears he had some advice for me before we went any further…

“My motorcars were made of steel…no rust on those wagons!  Packed full of saucepans and everything but the kitchen sink, people drove their boneshakers on picnics to escape to the country.  There may have been wise-cracks about the quality of a Ford motor car but they were rum.  Let go of the steering wheel, just cruise along at a comfortable speed” he said, at which stage I realised he was using the motor car as a metaphor for my own journey with the world of spirit, “jolly it up a bit when you come to a hill; exhaust blowing; put her in gear; you can do it!”

He was advising me to be aware of the mechanics of book publishing (knowing my impatience to get my big book in print via a publisher who was sitting on it), that I needed to understand how things worked in the publishing business and most importantly he asked me to take a leaf out of his own book and focus on the new possibilities that lay in store for my brand of work!  Indeed, I felt honoured.  “Then pull the throttle, engage your mind and put your foot on the gas…” he advised.

Eager to turn the subject back to him, I asked what his thoughts were on his own lifetime:

I had a goddam good one,” he said proudly….”a lucrative business!”

“So you know about my own work?”

We all know what goes on Down Under,” he said amusingly.  “Up Over, we call you a ‘Soul Trader’! LOL!  There are billions of them (souls); a few million more thanks to your kindly tinkering with their engines!  You get them kick-started and breathe life into them again – a mechanic of Light.  More fuel is needed for industry….”

I was interested to know what he did with 60 years to while away after his death from a cerebral haemorrhage in 1947 (Michigan USA) …”I rode on the back of my grandson, Henry Ford 2, leaving the business in good hands…” 

“How did it feel to be stuck in limbo between your earthly life and where you are now?”

“Stuck in neutral; drifting; no gas – just a vapour….”

“Did you see the Light beckoning?”

“Way off, over them hills!”

“What happened when you arrived home last weekend?”   (I was shown a picture of banners/streamers above a crowd of ‘automobiles’ and many many well wishers slapping and hugging him in jubilation.  Someone I thought he called ‘ETHEL’ was first in the queue, but I was certain he was male, and when I checked Ford’s biography later I found his son EDSEL had pre-deceased him in 1945.) He had now said his ‘peace’  and having been called back at least 6 times to finish this interview he now exclaimed “Christchurch!”, so I left him ‘tinkering with his hood’ ….!





Ghosts of Sudbury Hall Museum of Childhood, Derbyshire

17 05 2010

After perusing the National Trust gift shop and dodging the April showers my son and I ventured into the Museum of Childhood at Sudbury Hall, Derbyshire.  A jolly lady checked our tickets and suggested we take a map of the complicated layout, which I discarded after a while as it was so large and it was easier to follow our noses through the rooms of interesting displays and fascinating cabinets of childhood artefacts, ranging from war time to present day.  One room had a fascinating Alice-in- Wonderland type ceiling with upside down child’s bedroom, complete with furniture, toys and even a half ajar door!  We stood craning our necks, in awe of how the talented creators of such a masterpiece could have stuck everthing to the ceiling without it falling on their visitors’ heads!  I was particularly reminded of my own childhood when I spotted an orange bouncy ball with ears which had been determinedly grasped by the chubby hands of my little sisters as they’d jumped up and down on their ‘space hoppers’!  My slightly older sister and I felt much more grown up on the high stilts my father made us, after which all the neighbourhood children lusted! (And to his credit, my father made several more pairs to give away to them!)

Totally absorbed in reminiscing, I did not become aware until the third such room of treasures that little ghost children were running around us, giggling and enjoying themselves.  As two living humans we were otherwise alone and I glanced round for cover as I removed my trusty dowser from its holster in my jeans pocket.  These little ones were ‘evacuees’ from war time who had ‘missed the train home’ again and they were quickly joined by melancholic grown-ups of various eras who were connected in some way with the toys in the displays, spanning many generations.    In other words, the owners of the old toys who had not managed to leave this world naturally, were pouring into the vortex of light created by my rescue mission.

Whilst my son kept an eye-out for any living people wandering into the room, I did my best to make a mental note of those (mostly polite) souls who tipped their caps at me before leaving – happy to have been milling around the museum of childhood, but oh so grateful to be reunited with their loved ones.  At such times I feel a maternal gush of empathy and joy at their release!  After approximately 25 souls had been safely returned in this manner, my son and I wandered through many more rooms until we came to the recreation of a Victorian schoolroom.  A ghostly ‘Arthur’ sat at one of the desks, slate board and chalk in his hands, poorly looking, underfed, his nose running….he had died of diptheria…and in a trice a little girl named Tilly appeared from the otherside and took his pale little hand.  Such joy knows no bounds!  As I typed this information into my blog another 30 or so souls who had also died of diptheria and not completed their journey’s home were passed over safely.  Like attracts like.

A row of desks were lined up outside this room, each containing information for visitors.  Something made me close the lid of the end one and to my delight I saw that someone had scratched the words ‘JB WOZ ERE’ on the top – JB being the lifelong nickname given to me by my father and also used by my husband (JanieBold).  My son was greatly amused by this and cajoled me into posing for a photo opportunity!  After trying on some silly hats from a toy box and larking about in the ‘nursery’ (well nobody living was there to see!) I dowsed a ‘clown’ and a nanny/governess who enjoyed reading ‘ride a cock horse to Banbury Cross’ – and many more who had been attracted by the banter….As my dowser continued to swing in a whirlwind of joyful crossings, a member of staff entered the room (I snatched the gypsy scarf from my head but she just laughed, probably used to such childish antics by visitors!) and didn’t seem to notice the frantic spinning of my crystal….

After noshing on a Magnum each, we dashed to the Hall itself – ‘last admissions’ being 4.15 pm and, although very attentive and polite, it was obvious the half a dozen volunteers with only us to usher through the many rooms were keen to get home.  In the Long Gallery were over 20 portraits of family members but none of them were restless souls – I had gathered many on a visit many years previously and the details were safely stashed somewhere in an old notebook.  I remembered, however, that it had been the downstairs servants quarters that had been particularly spooky, with some dastardly deeds involving a fall (or push) down the stone steps and much blood from a knife wound (accidental or otherwise).  However, a modern art display entitled Celebrations clashed strangely with the ancient artefacts and portraits of the Long Gallery and the volunteer explained that the artist invited the public to add a written card to this long table, stating one’s hopes and celebrations.  I took a pencil and wrote ‘the publishing of my latest book’ and propped it against a book shaped jigsaw cut out, decorated in curly material/shavings which were apparently inspired by this room.

Another volunteer showed me portraits of one man and his three wives (one of whom was his first cousin), saying there was ‘madness’ in the family due to the ‘gene pool diminishing in size over many generations’….most interesting.  After an embarrassingly brisk trot through the interlinking rooms, all six volunteers stood with their coats slung over their shoulders, ready for the off.  However, one curious gentleman could not resist asking me what my book was about…..(‘Prepare for the disinterested looks once you’ve told them’ I said to myself!)  To their credit though they listened politely, asked me what the book was called, and one or two (ladies) said ‘how fascinating!’ – and as one man showed us down the stairs to the door he whispered ‘my wife has felt ghosts in here in the past….Just a feeling‘ he said.

Light showers turned to thunderous rain just as we made it safely back to the car park and retraced our journey home.  A few minutes later I had occasion to tick off a bad driver for cutting me up, and my face tingled as it does when we have a spirit visitor or two in the car with us.  Keeping my eyes on the road, I told our son that a ‘gamekeeper‘ was sitting in the seat behind him, and he looked curiously round, unable to detect anything but keen to know more.  This ghostly gent told me he had lived in the Hall (1896 – perhaps the year of his death?)  He wore a brown jacket and trousers pulled up very high with braces, a large trilby-type hat covering his bowed face.  Despite the static electricity buzzing round my cheekbones I had to concentrate on peering through the manic wipers as well as opening up the vortex for him to pass.…and then I became aware that he had a little girl sitting either side of him.  These were two orphans he took it upon himself to keep beside him after discovering they were also ‘lost ones’… His wife was now beckoning from the other side and in a flash all three of them were gone!  When I later asked what had been his cause of death, he simply replied “sneezing,” – (which meant  ‘influenza’) followed by “Bless you!” – making me smile.  And the little orphans?  “War zone.”

Another interesting day of Celebrations – helping lost souls to move through the Long Gallery of light to their rightful places beside departed loved ones!





Is it morally right to hunt ghosts?

5 05 2010

This question is so close to my heart!  Although I have many stories about my daily ghost rescues – too many to choose which one to tell you about! – tonight I happened to put the television on to Livingit to see yet another ever popular programme on Ghost Hunting!

How ironic that I should be named Jane Hunting – someone who is totally opposed to the way ghosts are treated in this day and age.  This is the 21st Century and our understanding of the spirit world has moved on enormously.  Most people believe in life after death.  What they seem to overlook is that ghosts are people just like you and me who have died and are unable to move back into the light (as most of us do)  This programme hammed up the voyeuristic and self importance of  ‘lead investigators’ and ‘mobile command units’, using expressions such as ‘9 hours into the investigation’ –   webcams and recording and technical equipment providing the backbone of the programme, along with ‘spooky’ footage of these ‘brave’ investigators sitting in dark rooms and saying things like ‘God bless America’ into their walkie talkies!  The householder had reported “‘sounds, footsteps, objects moving, their little girl talking to someone who couldn’t be seen”…..typical behaviour of people trapped between one world and another and surely to be pitied!

Of course, there was the obligatory glamorous  ‘investigator in training’ to bring some female presence to the team and make it good television! After their so-called ‘investigation’ they held a meeting with the householder to ‘go over the evidence that we have gathered’.  She replied that having a bunch of ghost hunters in her home had been ‘an excellent experience’  – even though they had merely  confirmed the same things that her family had reported seeing over the years.    She said, “I hope they will give us some tools to help us find peace with what’s going on in our home”  They said “our investigations brings credibility to claims you have made”.  One of the two ‘lead investigators’ basically gave his own version of what she already knew – ie “ Upon first heading in…there seemed to be a shadow…startled me…reflection off camera?…but the shadow backed off again….I waited, but nobody came through the door.  I walked on the porch.  I stayed in the house.  I headed outside to grab a tape; noise in background heard…”  Again, this merely confirmed what the householder had already told them…

The sound, weak shadows etc” he then explained to her, “are human intelligent hauntings; humans just like you and me with another body….it is not harming her (the daughter) but there are precautions you can take.  Don’t tell her it doesn’t exist.  Tell her she is not in that situation for too long.  Distract her etc.  Give us a call .”  After they had left, the householder said this was a “great experience.  It validates what we are going through.”  Discussing their ‘successful mission’, the ghost hunters drove back to their ‘HQ’ and agreed she was “relieved nothing in her home can harm her.  If they need us they will call us….”

Throughout the entire programme I tuned in and helped among others a young girl named Amy, who had died of measles, a man with a big build who described these ‘investigators’ as ‘morons’, a woman named Catherine, a ‘poltergeist’, a fire fighter who was rushing to a fire’, many black slaves, ‘hill-billies’ and also many animals.  “Tell them we need help,” said the firefighter, who was still in the act of suffering from his painful burns and choking fumes in his throat, “what they did to us was immoral…”  (Again, just like the ghost hunters on our own British tv, one so-called  investigator placed a ball on the floor and invited a ghost to ‘move it’…when nothing happened he asked him if he was a ‘coward!’  (Can you imagine how that suffering and obviously brave fire fighter felt?)  He did his utmost to upset the unseen man, eventually inviting him to ‘push’ them….!  (No doubt frustrated with little activity for their portfolio of  ‘evidence’.)  

In a second haunting investigation they were looking for the ghost of a man hanged and a girl who fell from a window and died and was lain in the basement ‘because it was too cold to bury her outside’…..the girl in question was already RIP but I found and moved over another little girl who was ‘sick’ and a man who had been hit over the head with a blunt instrument (the man who had been hung had already passed – it doesn’t follow that a violent death results in a spirit becoming earthbound) and many hundreds more…

…So in one way the ‘ghost hunters’ helped me with my own ‘ghost hunting’ to move as many souls as possible back into the light during my own lifetime…..Hoorah!








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