James, the Friendly Ghost (alternate title- My Life is Weirder Than Y'all Thought)

Doing spiritual work is such a trip. I’m not entirely sure how any of this happened, how I got to where I am. But a few weeks ago there I was, in a cemetery trying hard not to puke, helping a ghost figure out how to get out of here.

As a child, I was a staunch ghost denier. I was absolutely sure that ghosts were a myth that sinful people had created to deceive me, but I couldn’t deny that it seemed like a lot of people saw them. And that terrified me. But, according to my parents, no one gets to hang out on earth after they die. Either we instantly are plunged into the lake of fire for all eternity, or we immediately go to heaven and hug people and walk around for a million years (boring, but better than the alternative). The idea that I may plummet to hell if I didn’t look both ways while crossing the street was plenty of fuel for my “supernatural” anxiety, the only benefit of which is that I have said the sinner’s prayer over a thousand times and am extremely saved. But, my parents didn’t stop there! They told me that when people see a ghost, they really are seeing a demon. From Satan. And that demon could get in you, so you better not ever play with a Ouija board or watch a horror movie because you’re practically inviting them into your soul. It was no wonder that I developed an OCD routine of triple checking my bedroom door at night, leaping from as far away as possible onto my bed so as to avoid Satan’s hands grabbing my ankles. Somehow, at the ripe age of seven, I had merited the wrath of Satan himself, waiting under my bed to grab me by the toes or ponytail as I slept and drag me down into hell or wherever he lived. While trauma bonding with other evangelical kids in Sunday School, I learned that Satan lived under a lot of their beds too. The realization of his omnipresence only made him, and everything in the “spirit world”, more terrifying.

Some nights, I was so scared that I did what, for me, was a true hail mary: call on angels to help me. I was absolutely terrified that one was going to actually show up in my room, with wavy blonde hair, ten feet tall and waving a sword made of golden light. I knew I would instantly die of fear, because my mom told me that some kids in Japan or something watched a movie so scary that THEY STRAIGHT UP DIED IN FRONT OF THE TV. And everyone in the Bible who saw an angel completely freaked out and/or got instantly impregnated, so I was taking exactly zero chances. I made sure to pad my nightly requests for angelic protection with it’s ok I don’t have to see you to know you’re there! You can protect me and stay invisible! It’s fine, thanks guys!

What I did not know, and am sort of thankful for, was that I was actually seeing them in the corners of my room. As I imagined them hovering up near the ceiling, one in each corner, they looked like soft and dreamy people made of light, with a shape that looked like there were some wings around them. That’s exactly how I experience them now, and looking back I can see that my spirit eye was open even as a little kid. The reason I was so terrified of the supernatural was because I was actually experiencing this world I knew so little about, and firmly believed that I was helpless to demons entering my soul if I watched a PG-13 movie.

One of the very first times I ever did reiki on someone else was with my friend Amelia. Just a few minutes into the session, a spirit showed up. As someone who was still rather doubtful about the existence of ghosts, I was sure I was imagining her presence behind me, and that I had imagined how I instantly knew that she was related to Amelia through her mom’s side, and that her name was Great Aunt Margaret. I calmly soothed myself in the presence of this spirit by deciding that I’m either clinically insane or this is a demon and after the session I should probably surrender myself to the closest mental institution. But Margaret didn’t disappear the way I thought she would when I chalked her up to my insanity. In fact, she started talking. Telling me things to convey to Amelia. Because I knew I was crazy, and said so aloud about forty-six times, I figured I would go ahead and convey the message from the “spirit” for a laugh. But, as I spoke I knew that this message was not coming from me. And what Great Aunt Margaret had asked me to convey was deeply specific, personal, and, as it turns out, profoundly meaningful for Amelia to hear.

As I progressed in reiki and in my understanding of the spirit world, spirits began to regularly join us at the table during my sessions. Almost always relatives who had passed, these spirits offered the client insights into unresolved family trauma, apologized for a variety of wrongs, gave specific and beautiful encouragement, and always left the client totally freaked out…and also seen and loved in a way they could never have imagined. It’s almost as if word got around that I was a moderately effective channel for sending messages through the…dimensions? Veil?? Whatever it is, I can poke a hole in it and sort of…pass notes back and forth. And once word got out, the spirits and ghosts starting coming.

I was sure this could only happen while I was doing reiki. Positive vibes, magical room, music, candles, incense- I give my clients an experience, honey. But on a ghost walk with some friends in Wake Forest around Halloween, I realized that I can see them anytime, anywhere. And…they can see me. THAT WAS A SURPRISE because I had only every worked with spirits who came to me through a reiki session. Not just from behind the Walgreens on my way to my car after stress-buying chocolate covered acai berries (you know the ones). These spirits can just…approach me and ask for favors? In the broad-ass daylight??? Turns out I had a lot to learn.

Spirits that are just chilling around town are usually called “earthbound spirits” and they’re the ones who you would rightly call a ghost. They seem to have different levels of will and awareness, some who are stuck here without realizing it, and some who delight in freaking kids out in quiet corners of the library. On the ghost walk I saw examples of all different kinds (none of them on the guide’s list of “ghosts”), but the ones I was drawn to the most seemed to be unaware that they are, in fact, dead. Some were stuck in terror loops, reliving the moments before and of their death for many years, or even centuries. Others were searching for their loved ones, not quite sure why they felt so odd or why they couldn’t communicate with anyone. It was overwhelming to feel the intensity of their fear, frustration, hope, and terror. I had no idea what I could do to help them, but I couldn’t just LEAVE them there, suffering. It felt cruel to even consider it, so it quickly became clear to me that one of my jobs in this increasingly weird and ridiculous life is to set these souls free. My logical, taurus, grounded self has stopped protesting at this point. I usually just mutter a fine, and get started on whatever weird new thing I’m supposed to do. In this case, ghost liberation. Despite my empathy for these souls, it took me a few months to work up the courage to give it a try. Honestly, I was just nervous it wouldn’t work. But, as usual, putting these things off doesn’t take them off the list of things my spiritual team is constantly nudging me about, and before long I was forced to step off the ledge into this new world.

I’m lucky to live in downtown Durham near a beautiful, old cemetery absolutely brimming with history and dead people. Ever since my dad died I have been drawn to cemeteries for their quiet, slightly magical energy. I like people, but I really like the company of people who are quiet, and, even better, dead. Every time I travel with Jason I seek out an old cemetery to wander through- looking at the names, reading the stories, finding the oldest headstone, and hanging out with the not-so-freshly deceased. I have been accused of not being “fun” in my life, but walking over uneven graves imagining how people died in 1865 at the age of 23 is FUN…and this is why I only have two friends.  

I was visiting the dearly departed at my cemetery a few weeks ago, enjoying the crisp, sunny day and the company. Let me tell you something weird, as if I have not done that yet- there’s a spot inside my head, or maybe it’s my brain, that I can open and close like an eye, and it opens or closes the visibility between me and spirits. It’s on the right side of my head, near the back, and I have no idea what it is. I noticed it once when I did not want to see anything spiritual, and just had a silly thought about wishing I could close my ghost eye (because I don’t really ever close my third eye). And something back there in my head closed. Like I had an eyeball in my brain. I DID NOT LIKE THIS SENSATION. But I quickly realized that it actually worked- I didn’t perceive of them, nor them of me. Anyway, that day in the cemetery I had it nice and closed, as I was not planning to work with the dead thank you very much. But then my guides asked me to open it and help someone. And I said no thanks. And they said do it. And I said how about I do it later. And they said how about you do it now. And, as usual, I just muttered fine, and I opened my ghost eye. And there he was.

He had dark, chestnut colored skin, black hair, and was wearing clothes that seemed roughly hewn or knit together. He was waving at me from in front of a beautiful old tree that my children love to climb. As soon as I saw him, a wave of nausea washed over me and I decided that I was absolutely not going to do this. Not today. Or ever. And though I had been walking in his direction, I about-faced and said not today sir, sorry! out loud like an idiot. But my spiritual team was patient. Insistent. Nudging me back towards him. So, I relented.

I at least need to be in the sun, can we move over here? He followed me as I sat on a crooked headstone, clearly perplexed at who I could possibly be. He was respectful, interested, tall, and seemed gentle and kind. I had no idea what to say, so I fumbled an introduction with Okay, hi, hello, I have never done this before, but my name is Andrea and I’m here to help you. Can you tell me why are you here? He seemed to accept my truth rather readily, though he was clearly skeptical and confused. He “told” me (sometimes it’s less about words and more an exchange of feelings as a form of storytelling) that his name was James, he worked as a stonemason, and that he had lost his only child, George, when he was about nine years old. He had already lost his wife to illness, and was devastated at the death of his son. Either because he could not afford a plot or was not allowed one, he decided to bury his son at the cemetery without permission. He came at night and dug the hole himself, choosing this particular spot to “keep him safe”, but someone saw him and reported him to the authorities. He was arrested for grave robbing, which led to his death in some way. Either execution or prison. When he died he came back to this spot, absolutely terrified to lose his tie to his son. Occasionally he would see or smell something familiar and relive a memory, convincing himself that the energy of his son is here on earth, and only here. That is what was keeping him earthbound.

It seemed like he was already gathering this, but I gently told him that his son was not here, and had moved on as soon as he died. That the energy he was feeling of his son were the echoes inside of himself, of the energetic connection that isn’t lost at all. He absolutely lost his shit when I told him that I am currently living in the year 2024, as he assumed he had only been here for a few weeks after his death. I told him that there were spirits who could help him reconnect with his son, but that they are “up there” and he would have to leave this…plane? Dimension? He had a lot of questions about what it’s like in what he called heaven, and I didn’t have a lot of answers. All I could say is that it is good, and you will be safe. After thinking about it a bit, he agreed to go. So, I made the call, and I really have no idea what that means besides that I nodded vaguely to the sky and thought ok y’all, he’s ready. 

It seemed like my job at that moment was to create an energy environment where a spirit could more easily come and get him, because maybe that happens easily at the time of death but he missed his moment? Regardless, I’m not sure what I did besides create what felt like a bubble of energy that was…smooth??? And an angel or spirit immediately poked their head down from what felt like a ceiling above us, and James was like WHO THE HELL IS THAT LIGHT PERSON and I was like chill, you look exactly like that. I look like a person because I still am in a human body, you look like a light alien, ok? Then, golden steps appeared like, right in front of him. I’m annoyed at how ridiculous this sounds- golden steps?? Can we get new writers because that it sounds like I’m describing the set of a low budget movie-musical about heaven from 1955. Anyway after a few minutes he seemed ready to trust this insane situation that unfolded before him and head up the steps, but before he did he paused, and came over to me. He put his hand on my shoulder, looked me in the eye (my ghost eye??) and said Are you some kinda witch? I was so taken aback that I laughed out loud and said I guess you could say that, yes. He smiled and said well, thank you, and walked up the steps to the welcome of two very happy spirits that seemed to know him. The steps went away, the ceiling hole closed, and there I was- alone in a cemetery on a chilly February day.

For a few minutes, I sat awkwardly on the headstone and cried. From the beauty, the weirdness, but mostly from the insane amounts of gratitude I felt. I’m not sure for what exactly, but maybe just for him.

Andrea

P.S.- Please look into my eyes and see the reason and logic that live within me, my level-headed nature, my *hopefully obvious* lack of insanity. I make lists and do skincare! I eat veggies and listen to NPR! I also talk to ghosts and remove energetic trauma from people. ITS CALLED BALANCE, KAREN