the lady phantom in the garden of the big house

22 12 2010

A good friend of mine asked me to check out the babysitter’s house in which her beloved dog Poppy was staying for a couple of nights.  This may sound a little unnecessary, but Poppy is a very sensitive dog who tends to pick up other animals with ease – those that have, like their human counterparts, died and have not moved on for some reason.  My friend suspected that the kitchen in which Poppy’s bed had been placed, although under a warm radiater, felt a little ‘cold’.  She also mentioned that there was ‘an old house nearby’ just in case that needed a bit of clearing – and that the son of her babysitters had recently died from cancer – and that it had been ‘a blessed release’ for him.

The house in which Poppy was lodging had been made into several separate apartments and the nice couple with whom she had entrusted her ‘baby’ owned a complete level to the side of the building.  I set too with my spiritual ‘scouts’ and found that her instinct had been correct as a ‘Norman’, a ‘Woodruff’, a ‘Sarah connected with a letting’ ,  a ‘Phill who choked’, a ‘Dianne reluctant to leave, who suffered from housewives knee’ (a painful condition caused by continuous kneeling to scrub floors etc), and finally someone with a ‘Berlin’ connection, made 6 in all detected around the kitchen area.   These lost souls are attracted to lightworkers (and their animals) and my friend had been doing her own ‘cleansing’ before I was called upon to ‘tidy up’ a bit!  I checked the rest of the building, which was clear of any more ghosts, but needed cleansing of negative thought forms that had stuck to the fabric of it due to the pain and suffering of its inhabitants over the years.
Setting my long distance dowsing to work on the old house nearby that she had mentioned, I found an association with ‘Firs’ – perhaps the name of the house or the trees in the garden?  – and immediately picked up the phantom of an old white haired lady who clutched her bun in anguish as she tripped around the garden in a long white gown.  She refused to speak with me, calling me ‘an outsider’ and  was extremely stressed and lost.  I could see the snow in which she was barefoot and was anxious to calm her and get her to listen to my offer of help.  It seemed that my words fell on deaf ears but all was put right when a relative on the other side by the name of Desmond –  who was quickly joined by another called  Ruby – appeared at the entrance to the enticing tunnel of love and encouraged her to leave.  It is always an amusing sight when such a character with bare feet and wearing a long white gown suddenly lifts weightlessly from the earthly plane and floats effortlessly through the tunnel!  3 more lost souls emerged from around the old house, connected in some way to  a messy area of rubbish/garbage -could these have been tramps I wondered as, due to the speed with which they were transported home I did not have time to get a good look at them?!

Not the Big House, but our own, from where I cleared the spirits

I put special clearing symbols over the house to go deeper, which resulted in something sinister emerging: The lady I had just rescued was apparently named Myrtle – and a long way back in history (Victorian times) – seemed to have been buried in the garden of this old house!  I heard ‘consequence’ or it could have been ‘consecrate’ and the confirmation that she had been  ‘buried there in the garden’ …  I was also given the knowledge that she was 72, and that it was ‘consecrated ground’ that she was telling me.  I don’t know if it was normal or legal to bury people in your back garden in those times? (research needed when I have time!)
I returned to the rest of the building in which Poppy was staying and filled it with angelic light from top to bottom, resulting in three more who were ‘hiding’ but were quite happily ‘evicted’ back into the light. 

“That makes a bakers’ dozen!” called back a spirit with a sense of humour,  reassuring me that all 13 had ‘risen safely’ ha ha! 
Finally I just thought I would check the babysitters’ son who had died of cancer – and found myself giving him a helping hand – as he was still hovering, gratefuly saying ‘give ma and pa my love’ , before leaving.  He had been planning to stay for his own funeral and would not necessarily have remained long enough to become stuck on the earthplane (3 months is the limit, from eleven years experience in helping souls to leave).  He had politely taken up the offer of a lift but I was concerned that perhaps I had been a little too eager – as  people need time to come to terms with their death.  As I hoped I had done the right thing by him his answer echoed back along that tunnel of love….. ‘It’s alright; you did the right thing out of a loving heart…‘  Thank goodness!

A few days later my friend gave me feedback about the apparently large old house in which Edward the VII once stayed with one of his mistresses! It is occasionally open to the public but only partially restored and ‘eats money’, is a ‘mish-mash of stuff, and when the roof leaked onto the brand new upholstered chairs, they left it because it was ‘authentic’!  She had visited it with a Women’s Club one last winter evening and said:

“It looks like something out of the Munsters!  I am not joking…so I am not surprised that there was someone buried in the garden!!!” Finally, she said ‘My concern was that when I went to drop Poppy off, they had a skip outside and were obviously doing something to the building.‘ – (‘3 more lost souls emerged from around the old house, connected in some way to  a messy area of rubbish/garbage…’) …More proof that like attracts like and if she hadn’t clocked her eyes on that skip those 3 souls would probably still be buried under the rubbish of  their own twilight, nightmare world…!

And if she hadn’t been concerned about her sensitive canine, that  white-haired old lady would still be running about in this snow, Bless her. Happy Christmas one and all!



how I met the spirit of Lone Wolf, Chief of the Kiowa

8 12 2010

A couple of nights ago I arranged to meet my daughter and her dog at a local rendezvous with the plan to return here for chicken soup and a catch up.  As Sam the dog and I picked our way precariously along the ice-laden pavements I was careful to concentrate on where I put my feet, slipping 3 or 4 times but only on short sharp ‘whoops, thank goodness I didn’t fall’ skids!  Twenty minutes later we were on the home run and the non-snow covered tarmac road outside the house was a welcome sight – until in full conversational flight there was a sickening thud as my boot shot skywards and all 12 stone of me hit the tarmac with a painful crash.  Ouch, ouch, ouch!

After the dogs had finishing licking my face with glee and Laura had stopped the traffic while her mum floundered like a beached whale moaning in agony, I managed to turn over and face the demon black ice tarmac before crawling pathetically to the roadside and attempting to straighten up.  To cut a long story short, 5 days later my coccyx is still releasing the trauma, a freezing band of energy being cleared twice daily of physical negativity (pain!) plus – unbelievingly to some – people who are lost in the ether having suffered a ‘similar’ catastrophe but unfortunate enough to have died of their injuries!  Amongst those were a very attractive lady in high heels who I witnessed slipping painfully on her back down some steep steps in Paris, ski-ers who were engulfed in avalanches and others who drowned in frozen waters and tragedies in snow-covered countries around the world.  I won’t go on as it is a little depressing but all in all over 100 souls were saved as a result of my little accident, so it was worth the (continuing) pain!

A good example of how removing  any souls who become tangled within one’s energy centres can often relieve physical suffering can be found on the Guest Book of my website – where a recent client who declared he was a ‘sceptic’ in these matters, but nevertheless gave my theory a go, has kindly given his opinion.  One day I am hoping that everyone will understand the like-attracts-like energy scenario which in turn will help them understand the spiritual journey a little better.  It makes sense, therefore, that if you are mardy, fearful, jealous, angry or bitter you will attract the same energy to you like a sponge and conversely if you are calm, happy, light-hearted and kind the same will happen!  (Incidentally, this does not mean that spirits seeking the light will necessarily become entangled in every person’s energy field as there are many other factors to take into account, which I won’t go into on this particular blog!)

Being a soul-seeker or spirit rescuer is not as glamorous as it may sound as it entails being ‘on duty’ 24 hours a day.  This morning, for instance, the smoke alarm outside our bedroom door shrieked its head off for no other reason than it detected ‘spiritual smoke‘ from – wait for it – an Indian named Lone Wolf!  Making the most of resting my back I had snuggled up to my husband in front of a real fire, blanket over my knees, and watched an early episode of the famous Western Lonesome Dove yesterday afternoon that ecompassed the stretching of human endeavours to the limit, with marches through wild desert plains, attacks by savage Indians who killed in the most revolting ways, including scalpings, capture by Mexican forces who whipped one of the characters to within an inch of his life, then made him march painfully with the surving stragglers as prisoners, then shot half of them for being ‘spies’ in a bizarre lottery to save face with his Army.

“Well that was pretty miserable…” I said to Michael, who agreed.  Obviously the main characters survived to continue the story but only 6 hours later, at 4 am a tirade of real life sufferers started the alarm shrieking on what was to be at least 30 times before 7 am! 

Incredibly, Lone Wolf was acting as a spirit guide offering his help from the other side to locate and bring souls to our home for rescue.  No sooner had I cleared one batch and we’d taken it in turns to waft air around the alarm to stop it shrieking, then the alarm screamed into action again as another batch was routed here…something to which we are quite used to but doesn’t stop Michael climbing up to unscrew the smoke alarm cover and take out the battery, stopping  short of disconnecting the wiring to the mains electricity as I shriek out to him not to electrocute himself! (As he pointed out, if there was something wrong with the alarm it would not stop when cleared of ‘smoke’ energy – but being logical he still changes the battery for a fresh one whenever this scenario happens!)  What also happens is that a short and friendly beep-beep will affirm something one of us says during the gruelling challenge, for example my freezing hand (-10 degrees outside!) held aloft outside of the snuggly warm duvet caused Michael to say ‘I’m sure the spirits really appreciate what you are doing for them Jane’ – and the alarm ‘answered’ with a short beep-beep!

As I cleared the spirits I called out many names and circumstances but due to the mayhem, time of the morning and lack of available pen and paper just had to try and recall them later.  There were many States that my husband recognised such as Iowa, Wichita, New Mexico (where Lonesome Dove was set that evening), Wisconsin, Utah and Idaho and many terrible deaths such as scalpings, torture and terrifyingly awful methods of murder, ‘buffalo skins’, and basically death scenes associated with the ‘wild west’ and pain and suffering.  Interestingly, before he left again ‘Lone Wolf’ spoke of an ‘adversary’ and a ‘commune’ – before informing me that  the total rescuees amounted to 780.  He also added ‘it was not right, what the white man did to my people‘  but also ‘neither was it right what my people did to the white man  – but the circle of life continues.’   The love that ‘shot’ back into my heart from the gratitude of these lost, suffering and wounded souls is beyond human description.

I researched the Indian named Lone Wolf and ascertained that he was  Lone Wolf the Elder (Gui-pah-gho) (ca.1820-1879), a Principle Chief of the Kiowa tribe, and it was confirmed by above that he had willingly helped me to gather in a multitude of lost souls – Indians included – who had died during wars among warriors as well as with the white man.  

With reference to the ‘commune’ and the ‘adversary’ of which my spirit helper spoke, I found the following sad confirmation of his suffering:  ‘In 1875 upon surrendering with his band, Lone Wolf, the Elder was among a group of 27 Kiowa singled out by the U.S. Army for incarceration at Fort Marion in St Augustine, Florida where he would remain until 1878. He was found guilty of rebellion and sentenced to confinement in the dungeons of old Fort Marion at St. Augustine, Florida.’

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