Ghostly Manifestations

But you see the entire thing was borne of love. The Preacher loved his religion and the importance of the little community, Pistol Packing Pete loved freedom and The Pioneer and His Wife loved each other! Some of those experiences were really frightening to me when I was a kid and I didn't truly understand what it was all about back then. What that truly entails was something I've since learned is accepted fact. Groups of people do go through lives together and return over and over again to perfect their spirits. Their souls are connected and combine into a larger soul or essence if you will and all of those people were intimately connected to each other.

Next we have a common story but I swear to God I actually witnessed it! I was camping in a pristine little camp ground just south of Mendocino Village. It was a cozy little place with only a few sites nestled in the trees right next to highway One. It was very quiet there and naturally verdant green. A tiny creek ran out to the sea which was only maybe 150 yards from the camp ground. As you may know in that area the mountains actually go all the way down to meet the sea unlike other places in California that have miles of flat land before you see ocean. To me that was the best of both worlds. I love the mountains but I grew up down in the Los Angeles area where the beach is always only a few miles away. So there I was with my wife and our young son camping to get away from the stifling summer heat of the big valley. It was a cool night and the only people around were divers who were too tired from their day of underwater discoveries to be making much of a fuss.

First I felt something coming over me as if someone was calling to me but there was no voice and no sound other than the hypnotic ocean waves rhythmically trouncing the sandy beachhead and the lazy crackling campfire. I started looking around and I saw a beautiful brunette woman emerge from around the cliff. Before she ever looked at me it was as if I could hear her thoughts of resignation. She looked my way for an instant and a chill ran down my spine. She walked across the street (Highway 1 in that spot is really nothing more than a street with one lane of traffic in each direction). She had a shawl wrapped around her and the wind kept tousling it and her long dark hair. For some reason what I was seeing was a breath taking beauty and the feminine pulchritude was as thick as butter or ice cream. That luscious hair seemed to dance on the wind and the way she moved was like she was gliding with extreme deliberence, treading ever so softly as she walked.

At that place, the beach is not very big and it does go gently down to the sea with no crags or anything to obstruct your view. She turned back around and looked into my eyes for a moment. The woman's gaze was absolutely electric! She had a very strong feeling of remorse and sorrow as if she truly was completely broken hearted. She turned around and looked out to the ocean. I remember watching her long dark hair flowing out behind her and shimmering in the moonlight and that shawl whipping around revealing a model's figure in a long dress. I actually did not look away as I wondered what the girl was going to do. I actually wanted to ask her to come sit with us by the fire and be warm.

But before I moved a muscle she vanished right before my eyes! She didn't turn to walk or anything. No car went by on the street. Nothing distracted my view of this woman. One second she was there and the next she was not!

What I felt from her when she looked into my eyes was profound heartbreak. My heart went out to the poor girl and I felt like I wanted to wrap her in my arms and tell her everything was going to be okay. It was all very compelling. I felt as if she had told me her whole life story in the twinkling of an eye and with that instant communication the feeling of majestic love came over me. Just before she turned to look out at the ocean her eyes softened for an instant as if she felt my concern for her and was edified. The compelling nature of this girl's spirit was overpowering. And when she disappeared I felt a distinct feeling of loss.

There are a lot of stories about "the preverbal young woman with everything to live for" who threw herself in the sea and drowned over lost love but that's not how this particular story ended. Here she was standing on the beach far from the shore and just vanished. For several years there were claims of sightings of a young beauty going down to the ocean and disappearing in it, but in recent years there hasn't been as many. On top of that, it is my understanding that most of those sightings were around the Carmel area and that is a great many miles south of Mendocino.

The experience had me shaking my head and rubbing my eyes. I asked my wife if she saw that and she replied nonchalantly, "That girl. Yeah I saw her."

The girl didn't look into my wire's eyes and my wife barely noticed her. In astonished tones I said, "She just vanished!"

My wife replied, "You probably just didn't see her leave."

I knew better than to make a big deal of it, but that whole night I kept feeling this woman's spirit all around me. From time to time I do see the woman again in dreams or she crosses my mind and I wonder who and where she is, or if she really was a ghost. You'd think now that I'm not married I'd be more wrapped up in the mystery woman but no, I just chalk it up to something else inexplicable happening in my life.

The thing that was odd here was that there was no fragmentation of events. I didn't perceive any pieces of memories or speculations coming from her or surrounding her. Everything seemed like it was in order. In fact the clarity of it all was amazing. They say when people commit suicide there is often a moment of extreme clarity when their decision to do so has been made. I don't know if that was what it truly was or not. All I know is, if the girl is a real live human being I'd truly love to meet her now that I'm not married to somebody else anymore. What I felt coming from that woman was truly supernatural and profoundly intimate even though we were never even remotely near each other. Was she actually a ghost? Well she didn't have a sign on her saying so but after feeling those extremely powerful emanations and watching her disappear I'd have to say she probably was.

Now before we begin the third examination I have to add here that I have been accused of being an empathic psychic myself. I have also been accused of many other things that definitely aren't true but I will admit the paranormal is more normal to me than many other people. I see and accept those things more readily so they happen to me more frequently. Along with other paranormal experiences there have been many instances involving "spirits" I won't go into here. Just one example that took place in the house my family called home for over forty years will suffice. My younger brother who had died in the living room made a startling show one night. I was getting ready to move to another city and while sitting there in the living room with a couple of friends I stood up, held my arms up and asked, "Well Mike are you ready to get out of here?" To answer my question, the army coat he wore all the time when he was alive was hanging on a coat rack by the kitchen door as it had for months, maybe even a year or more, gave the response. No one was standing or sitting anywhere near it. It lifted off the coat rack, moved over an inch or two and fell on the floor. My comment then was, "Yep, Mike's ready." The two friends who were sitting there were freaked out a little and we all had cold chills running down our spines. That didn't just happen. Mike answered me. So now we can begin the journey toward the third occurrence.

The actual manifestation was but a infinitesimal glimpse that lasted only a couple of seconds in human cognitive terms. I was sight seeing in Eureka California and one of the attractions there are several extremely impressive buildings. Most are old Victorian Estates which are marvelous examples of craftsmanship and architecture. Though I wouldn't even want to live in a Victorian home preferring Frank Lloyd Wright's architectural philosophy and the concept of feng Shui (i.e. fung shuay) I marvel at the work that went into those grand homes.

It was almost like in the movies. I was sitting in the car outside one such Mansion looking at how marvelous it was, when an extremely strong perception hit me. It was an energy that was lacking any continuity and came from well behind the dwelling on the bay's shoreline and to the right of the mansion as you look in from the street. It turned my head to the side slightly and in involuntary response my head flew back and I recoiled. Had I been standing I probably would have jumped backward. The feeling was that strong! It was almost as if I had been electrocuted by free power again and had to pull myself away from it. As the sorrowful verve encumbered me everything was a complete blur. I had to fight my way free of the perception. It took quite a while for it to filter down and compartmentalize into conscious thoughts I could examine. All of the ear marks of contact with a disembodied spirit were there. Bodily sensations (i.e. an instant cold and clammy feeling mixed with an eerie warmth, shivers, increased heart rate etc.) and the psychological manifestations all matched several prior experiences but this was more powerful. Intense in fact!

I have to point out to you here that it takes time to let the impressions sink in because the things that are more important to spirits are not necessarily event identifiers. Take for instance the event of their deaths. You would think that would be of profound significance to a spirit but I find that generally isn't the case at all. Their deaths are of little to no significance to them. Death appears to simply be a doorway they have already past through. The feelings which effected them the deepest, in the defining moments of their lives, is more important. So important, in fact, that the events which forced those feelings to arise may be extremely hard to discern. The only way that I seem to be able to comprehend what they are imparting is by lingering in the feeling and it's engrams until it contains enough realism and depth for me to piece together the events of the situation. I do feel their pain but it isn't my pain so I can let it go easily. And realize I don't go looking for these occurrences. If they happen around me then okay what's all this about? Otherwise I'm quite satisfied to pursue my own life among the living.

After a great deal of examination I pieced together all the fragments that seemed to emanate from that essence. What I envisioned may well be the events of this particular spirit's existence and I think I know what it would require for the person to find peace.

Framing the situation we find, the place was Eureka, the first capitol of California. As it grew from the early days into a bustling lumber town William Carson and his partner John Dolbeer quickly became forerunners in that industry. When William Carson built the beautiful Victorian Mansion on M Street and 2nd, now owned by the Ingomar Club, the wood available for him to construct it from was at a pinnacle of quality throughout the world. It's actual address is 143 M St. It is a private club and the mansion is their "Club House." The place is beautifully maintained and is the most photographed Victorian in California, if not in the United States. Many people come to Eureka just to see that very mansion as well as many other Victorians there, just as I did the day I had the brief encounter.

Mister Carson was a revered member of the burgeoning society and his wife was a wonderful person. I tell you this because I don't believe the story has anything to do with them or even his partner. Though his partner's wife did commit suicide that event took place in San Francisco many years after what I believe happened.

Imagine a gorgeous young lady, prim and proper, growing up in Eureka, a town filled with rowdy loggers and smelly fishermen. News of other places came as grandiose enchantments by way of Steam Ships, and eventually, from the train that finally linked Eureka to Sacramento as well. San Francisco was the epoch of high society on the West Coast and this young woman must have been eager to hear every tidbit of news from those places. She appeared to be the toast of the town among her peers with ample charm and grace to fortify her position in society. Her bearing was that of a young woman from a well do to family. But there was a brooding essence about her as well. She definitely felt isolated from what she knew her potential was, yet she renewed her cheerfulness with hopes of future progress.

The sweet girl's rosy cheeks and upturned nose caught the eye of many suitors. There was a older man in the community involved in politics who held considerable power and he was absolutely taken with this girl. He longed for her touch, her attention and her love but she was not interested in him. She felt a strong bond between herself and her friends and was eager for them all to flourish together in the boundless expanse of a young, vital, America. The older man had already faced all his trials and tribulations and she felt as if she would only be window dressing for his lifestyle, lingering futile as he sat back on his laurels. She was far too anxious for adventure and also willing to test her own mettle to resign herself to that.

Eventually she fell in love with a hard working "logger" who was a good hearted man that treated her very well even thought they didn't have a great fortune. Their dreams were such that they aspired to great heights and doubtlessly William Carson was either their (or her) mentor or someone they both venerated. Her lover was the rock she based all of her desires upon.

The older man was not pleased at the loss of this young woman to anyone, much less a lowly "logger!" He felt the roust about woodsmen were all a dime a dozen and kept trying to force the two young lovers apart. He was certain he could then maneuver himself into becoming the object of her affection. The shrewd old "gentleman" stood in the way of all the young couple's hopes.

One day in Humboldt Bay the logger was floating a great many redwoods into the mill when a guide chain snapped and his body was crushed by the giant logs that were suddenly at the mercy of the headwater's thrust. His torso was mangled and his vital organs crushed. He desperately clung to life as the other workers summoned his young wife to his side. She did arrive, but only in time to see the last glimmer of life slip away from her true love and the void was too far a distance. She stood in horrible shock as his blood washed from the bay and out into the ocean. A thousand thoughts raced through her brain as she felt her very life force wither into dismal numbness. Among those thoughts were suspicions that the older man had something to do with her true love's demise, as he was always meddling in their lives. She also cursed the gaiety of how she busied herself that day, thinking that if she were not out having fun with friends, she could have at least been there in time to say a final goodbye to the sweet gentle man who was her whole world.

Those two ideas overtook what was left of her life from that point on. She became more and more sullen and more and more suspicious. She was not only suspicious of the older man's every move she also questioned everyone and everything around her. Nothing in life held significance and she was constantly drawn back to the water's edge while she tried relentlessly to make the recollection turn out differently, but it was all in vein. She saw all too clearly what had happened that foggy day and it was far too hideously vivid for the memory to fade.

After biding his time when the older man tried to approach her she reacted violently, spurning his attention with vehemence. Her reaction to even his mere presence bid him never attempt to communicate with her again. He couldn't explain to her that he truly did not have anything to do with the guide chain breaking. To appear above reproach in her eyes was tantamount in his desire. There would certainly never be a day when he told her that arson was his specialty and he already attempted to have the forest her husband's team was working from burned down but rain had foiled his plan. The torch man he dominated would not commit direct murder for him and he certainly could not tell her he'd already suggested it, in a rum soaked rendezvous, to no avail. Explaining his next devious plan to have her and everything else he wanted, was to burn down the very mill most people in town worked at, was also out of the question. So his own underhanded activity defeated him because his guilt in other matters would show through his honest report that he didn't do this to her husband. She would see through him for she was his weakness and he could not hide from her focused suspicions.

She barely ate and seldom slept. Her heart withdrew into the solace of darkness never opening the blinds in her home or dropping the shield around her soul. She even blamed God for her husband's premature death. She hated the night and cursed each day and that ghastly fog clinging to everything was her mortal enemy for it was a constant reminder of the only thing she felt after seeing her husband's crushed body. When her life slipped away from her, she was too weak to even notice it was gone. On into the realm of spirit, she kept blaming herself for not being there in time to at least hold her dying husband to her breasts. On into the afterlife, she kept reliving the appalling tragedy begging to the one who's life was cut short. On into the hereafter, she mourned.

More than a hundred years have past since the two lovers parted in that dreadful way and even though time hasn't stood still it has done little to aid the young woman's despair. The young Logger waits outside time for their reunion and surely at any instant she will be there. In his heart and mind only minutes have past by and his beguiling young sweetheart must clearly be listening to yet another story of high society coming straight from the latest steam ship's arrival. Any second she will burst in with another wide eyed exuberant tale and he will smile at her and hold her in his arms while supporting her dreams with equal enthusiasm. His spirit is alive and well so the dreadful day never occurred to him.

The way to bring this young woman peace is to present her husband to her. The key is to do it in such a way as to hold her attention while explaining that in the afterlife they are both perfect and whole again. She must be convinced to put her faith in God once more so the miracle of their reunion can take place. With God's help I actually believe I could accomplish this. There are two reasons I think that. The foremost reason is that I do have the capability to project an image of myself that can resemble other people. As my being communes with someone I tend to present a mirror-like image of them. That is actually called Avloketsvarian wisdom by the Tibetans. I don't need to know what the young woman's husband looked like. All I need to know is what he "was" like, and I believe I do know that. There is cause to trust that I surely must have been similar to him in some way, either in appearance or spiritually, in the first place since she was clearly beckoning to me. The other reason is that throughout my life many people have claimed I look like Jesus. I can convey that semblance with calm love and meditative capacity as well as holding altruistic intent in my conscious mind. Selflessness must also be brought along into the foreground of my consciousness which is something I can accomplish easily especially when I don't have worries of my own to chain me to my identity. But in order for her to actually reach the peace of their eternal reunion she must "let go" of the world. For someone who has died young that can be a terribly difficult thing for them to do. Their youthful vigorous energy is transferred into spirit and their worldly desires attach them firmly to the illusion of life continuing. The hundred years have at last prepared her for her transformation and it is time.