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The Eidolonica Papers Issue 03
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PAPERS
Compiled and Edited by Greg Webster - Issue 3 Volume 1
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Ghostly Phenomenon - Personal Experiences
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I had intended to jump directly into this issue, without a needless
lot of introduction. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, life has
strange twists that make our standard situations and expectations change.
This was started as the December 1995 issue, and I fully intended to send
it out then. But, with all the things that usually crop up, once again
things did not work out as planned. There's not much I can explain about
why exactly things didn't happen as they were supposed to, but I can say
that after this issue, expect things to change. I began this only a few
months back, with certain expectations of what I wanted to do with it, and
certain reasons for putting it out. I didn't want this to be entirely
centered around the paranormal and the strangeness of our world, but I
would expect that it's a pretty encompassing subject, and one that tends to
take the forefront of anything it includes. I had intended a sharing
between the talk we have been having about the the unusual things in the
world, and some talk about the rules you need to get along in life, both
rules for yourself, and what to expect for rules in the rest of the world.
So, the write-up I have below I think encompasses both. It's basically
about a strangeness in our world, but talks about it in a way that speaks
more about ourselves than our environment.
I don't know really what's going to happen for the next issue, or even
if the next issue you receive will be "The Eidolonica Papers". Things are
going to change, I just can't tell you now exactly how. If you find that
the changes suit you, then I'm glad...but I expect for some of you the
changes won't be welcome. The intent is not to insult or infuriate you,
but I'll accept you asking to be dropped from the mailing list with no
problems or hard feelings. We all have a path, and some people's paths are
a little more like mine than others.
Let me know if you would like to continue to subscribe to the
Eidolonica Papers, no sense in sending out something that will not be read.
So without much more ado....
The Ghosts behind our eyes
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When humans developed society, we didn't have schedules longer than
the day we were in. We worried about when the evening meal was coming, and
what it would be. We hunted to find the food to keep us going for another
day, and hunted to prove to ourselves that we existed, that we had each day
had a direct and visible effect on the world that we were in. As we
progressed from a hunter-gatherer society to an agricultural society our
schedules grew longer. We timed ourselves by the season because we had to
know when to plant the crops and when to harvest them. Our daily schedules
became small parts of a larger picture. We thought about the future
because in order to hold to the society we were working in we had to. Then
we moved into a commercial society, at least partly. Still we had the
crops to grow and the seasonal schedules for the basic members of society,
the ones providing the food, but a larger and larger segment of our
population has a schedule mixed between seasonal and a backstep to
daily/monthly. Living on a fixed income, we've come to worry more about
getting from one paycheck to the next and saving enough money to get
through the "dry season" in the second week. Our long range plans only
cover how much we can save -each month- into our retirement plans and
holiday savings. So what's next, and why in the world am I talking about
this in an issue covering ghostly phenomenon? Ghostly phenomenon to me has
always been about seeing what is inside of us more than what might be "on
the other side". It has always been said that certain people can see the
ghosts while others are unable. Perhaps that was just a lie by false
prophets and mediums to lead the less suggestible folks into believing they
just didn't have the talent to see what was there. Maybe it is because
certain people -do- have talents unrecognized in usual society specifically
the talent to see into the ghostly spectrum. But maybe some see things and
some don't because as society has moved forward the majority of individuals
have grown away from our basic beginnings. In the first growth of our
civilization we depended on the hidden spirits that were around us. We
worshipped those beings who could affect our luck, the dieties of the
hunter, and the sprites and spirits that lived in the trees, plants, and
animals. I'm sure that the ghosts those people saw were seen as these
dieties and spirits. Wise men had visions of where the best place to hunt
might be, or dreams of plants in the woods that would help us in foods or
medicines. When we moved into the agricultural stage we began to accept
that things happened with a little less discourse on whether a spirit was
in every plant of our crops. Our gods became much mightier...Odin sprang
forth with Thor showering disbelievers with his terrific bolts of
lightning. The gods began to live in the skies and under the earth instead
of in the trees and the life-giving soil. Commercialism brought cities,
and the people in the cities soon forgot the connection to the earth we had
in the beginning. The gods grew in power and use, and a multitude of
spirits were brought to life by the Romans and greeks, who had gods for
every aspect of daily life...in the city or not. Prophets came and
developed the reasoning we needed to move past our actions being controlled
as pawn actions of the gods and let us think on our own. Buddha and
Confucius came as men whose sayings and philosophies were worshipped
instead of their powers or bodies. We changed from worshipping beings to
worshipping doctrines, and still underlying all of it was a group of people
unconnected in any real way who still saw the spirits of the forest...only
they were visions of the dead in our past instead of living breathing
beings that controlled parts of the physical world we didn't understand.
When we lost our agricultural and seasonal approach to life we also lost
our connection to the long term view of ourselves and began living in that
present once more. The only thing was, we had a taste of living slowly
which we've never forgotten. Now when we see our spirits, they belong to
the past...reminding us that we are moving more quickly than we might be
ready for. It seems like it is our time-frame that is haunting us, rather
than the spirits of our ancestors.
Now, you can draw your own conclusions...I leave it open-ended. I
haven't said that the spirits don't exist, all I wish to make as a point is
that perspective has changed, and what we once saw as forest spirits and
fairies may be the same thing as what we saw as the gods among us may be
the same thing as the ghosts of the dead we summon.
O Ominous Spiritus.
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I never know what Sanjay is going to come up
with for me when I put out a request on a topic.
He surprises me constantly with absolutely everything
he writes, mainly because I always get the
impression that what he writes could also have
come from inside me, and I never knew I thought
that way.
Me And My Shadow
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This is a strange topic for me to write about. Personally, I
don't believe in ghosts, spirits, or even the bogeyman. Maybe
they're out there, but if they don't really have that much of an
impact on my life, then why should I care? Out of sight, out of
mind, pass the pretzels.
Of course, sometimes, things just happen that I can't deny.
It's strange. A friend called me the worlds only honest cynic. I
didn't really like the term, but I guess it's better than being
closed minded. I'm not going to close my eyes and cover my ears
every time that something challenges how I would like to view the
world. I could, but then I'd be no better off than if I just
stayed at home and hid under the covers all day. But I digress.
This is actually something that happens fairly often. I'm not
sure why, and I can't think of a rational explanation for it, but
I seem to have a guardian angel lurking in the shadows, following
me wherever I go. It's a little frustrating actually. I can't
just dismiss these 'encounters' as pure chance (I don't believe in
coincidence), but I can't accept the explanation that it was
granted by a 'higher power' either. It's one of the few aspects of
my life that doesn't make any rational sense... And yet, it
happens.
Last year, I was walking to class. The sidewalk was icy, and
it was just an unpleasant day. I wasn't paying too much attention
to the world around me, but that was fine, because I didn't really
care either. Then all of a sudden I felt something pulling back on
my coat. I looked up and a car just sped through the intersection
that I was about to walk through, and I someone had held me back.
I looked around, but there wasn't anyone close enough that could
have done it, but I know that it happened. I know what I felt. It
was real.
There have always been little things that happen too. Both
before and after that day. It always seemed that whenever I was
about to be crushed by the weight of the universe pressing down on
me, the load would lighten. There would be no reason, no
explanation, not even any tangible way of identifying it, something
would just come along that would make carrying the universe a
little easier.
More recently, I can tell you about something that happened a
couple of nights ago. I had an article typed up and ready to send
to Greg, but I heard a little voice that said "don't send it to
him." I've learned over the years, that when this voice speaks, I
should listen to it. And then this morning, the voice returns and
tells me to write about that day at the intersection. And here we
are. You'll probably see the other article eventually, but it
didn't really fit in with the ghostly nature of this issue. I
think this one does.
Maybe one day, I'll find the answer. Maybe I'll find out that
someone is watching my back, and pushing me in the right direction.
Maybe I won't. I still a sceptic, but some things are just too
hard to deny. This is one of them.
This issue is dedicated to Sanjay Singh.
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And another submission from a favorite regular,
W. Burns. At least some credit for the changes
I will make goes to this contributor, the sharing
of his poetry had made me think that we could
perhaps use more in here.
Greg Webster, Editor
EIDOLONICA PAPERS
Dear Editor Greg:
My most intense sensations with ghosts have been with my
deceased grandparents.
My Grandmother Burns passed away, Spring 1977. My
youngest son has seen her in our back yard at night, near the
wind chime. He describes the woman he's seen as a dark haired
lady in a sweater, surrounded by several cats. Mind you, he
has grown up hundreds of miles away from my family and there is
no way that he can know that she had a thing about collecting
cats. There is only one photograph of her, and she is neither
wearing a sweater nor are there any cats.
I wrote the following poetry in response to her absence.
Grandmother Burns
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What do you see
beyond the shadows Grandmother?
I weep here at your tomb.
I weep the tears that a boy of ten could not muster.
The tears that a boy of ten could not understand.
What do you see beyond the shadows?
Are you warm?
Are you at peace?
Did you get to talk to God?
Did he answer the questions
that you saved just for him?
I can still see your hand reaching down
to a boy of five.
I see you in the morning fixing pancakes.
I see you letting a boy with sticky fingers
pretend that he is helping you.
I see your smile....
O dear Grandmother...
Why couldn't I cry when they put you
in that damned cold box?
Why couldn't I cry then
when it mattered?
I can remember...
Your hands still reach in my memory.
Your face still caresses me with a smile.
Your soul still walks in my dreams.
Sometimes we make pancakes
and I cry.
Grandmother Pennington passed away in the
autumn of 1992. I was burning leaves in the back yard
when they called. I returned to West Virginia for the
funeral. I stayed with my aunt in a bed my cousin had
slept in. As I drifted off, she came to me and said,
"Oh, Billy, its ever so much more than I imagined." I
let her go, she wanted to get back.
Grandmother Pennington
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The night you died
I lit a candle
and put it in the window
Did you see it?
I prayed
Did you listen in?
Thelma
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They called
I always get bad news over the phone
I built a fire in the garden
It being winter
the corn didn't mind
Bout the biggest fire
I have ever built
There was a great roaring and crackling
And the sparks shot up
into the darkening sky
Like angles
Like souls going to heaven
I know the ashes
fall back and become dirt
But not until the fire
is gone out of them
The fire continues on . . .
Grandfather Pennington passed away in 1993, about a year
after his wife. In both of the instances of my grandmothers,
there was nothing until after the funeral. In my Grandfather's
case I felt his presence in the car on the trip up to West
Virginia. There was this intense pressure on my right arm,
someone in the back seat of the car. I tried speaking to the
rider, but received no response. This went on for awhile, then
there was this soft brushing of my hair, like a farewell pat
and he was gone.
William E. Pennington
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A gray cap on the table
A red truck named Augie
Trout and
Red bone hounds
running even
with the evening star
Snow on a tin roof
Visions fall from the evening sky
leaves collecting on my head
I wouldn't shut them off
even if I could
A warm chocolate stove
Hot point freezer covered with
Thanksgiving pies
Honey bees and
Apples . . .
yes apples . . .
Visions of you
as you were
Raven haired
hawk beaked
Strong, weathered hands
How many times
have those hands reached out
in my dreams?
Held berries when my hands were too soft?
Held my arm when the rocks were slippery
What can I say to my mother?
What can I say to your children?
Here is his blood
Here in your hands
Honor the
rivers running under your skin
That you might remember him
if not in your mind
Then in your heart . . .
in your blood
finis
end transmission
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Subscriptions may be relayed to: Kick@freenet.vancouver.bc.ca
Submission go to the same place.
I've managed to get my act together a wee bit and get a ftp location for
you folks...ftp.etext.org. I'm not sure what directory level the files are
at just yet (I don't have real FTP access myself), but I've been told the
directory is called 'Eidolonica'.
Submissions on next month's topic will be accepted until the 20th of that
month. I hold the right to edit things as I choose for any reason I feel
is appropriate, but keep in mind that I hate doing it, so your submissions
will probably be safe from my evil hands.
Everything here is (c) 1996 unless I say otherwise. You may feel free to
copy it for any non-profit use you wish, as long as it remains unedited.
If you wish to edit something for use, or wish to charge money in any way
for what you read here, then you MUST contact me for permission.
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_.,-~^~-,._.,-~^~-,._.,-~^~-,._
| Greg Webster | El que siembra vientos
| Kick@freenet.vancouver.bc.ca| cosecha tormentas. Caras vemos
^~-,._.,-~^~-,._.,-~^~-,._.,-~^ corazones no sabemos.
