Dog and Porch

7/2/11

After a particularly stressful week, I could think of nothing else that I would rather do than get back out under the stars and allow Mother Earth and Father Sky to renew my soul. My job was going through a transitional period that involved lay offs and downsizing. My friend Cyril was caught up in all of that and my thinking was that there is no better way to shake off the drama than to go where the ground is sacred and the wind speaks to you. Our plan was to visit two new areas, the trestle bridge and then the rock wall.  The finale to the evening was a trip to the lake at the ranch to star gaze.  

I was anxious to see what the area around Dead Mans Cut held for us.  There is a belief that with a sudden and violent death, the spirits are sometimes confused or even unaware they have passed.  Their unresolved issues are a burden they carry until the end of time. I wondered if there would be any trace of that fateful event still lingering in the wind.  As Cyril and his girlfriend marveled at the sheer size and scale of the bridge, Lance gave them a brief history of the legend of Dead Man’s Cut. We did a short EVP session as they wandered around the area. Just as we were preparing to move on, we heard the faint whistle of an approaching train.  I had often wondered what it was like to be at that spot when a train traveled over the bridge and now was my chance. I can tell you that the visual and auditory experience of a fast moving cargo train flying hundreds of feet over your head is like nothing I have ever experienced.  

Our next spot was of particular interest to my husband and I as it is the other structure believed to be a remnant of the Spanish. It is a rock wall built in exactly the same manner as the rock house.  It is constructed entirely from native stones that are stacked in a manner that did not require mortar but has remained largely intact.  Many areas of it lay undiscovered for decades as the land had reclaimed it as it’s own.  There is speculation that many sections of it are still to be found as satellite imagery shows some probable locations.  It’s purpose can only be guessed at, but considering it goes on for miles, it had to be of great consequence to them.  The sheer amount of labor involved is unimaginable. I doubt that you would expend that much effort on something for what was surely years unless you were protecting something or someone of great importance to you and intended to be there a while.  Although this session did not yield any EVPs,  it is somewhat humorous to listen to. There were cattle in the immediate area and they were none too pleased at our presence.  They can be heard making all kinds of racket and at one point giving us what we interrupted as the stink eye.  Plus I think they were freaking Cyril out a little.

After arriving at the lake and setting up our chairs, a quiet fell over us as we all gazed skyward.  We were all enthralled with the peaceful sounds of fish jumping in the water, birds calling to one another and the comfort of having good friends around you.  Brother wind provided us with a slight breeze that kept us cool.  It was perfect!

The following day, Lance was reviewing the recordings in our bedroom and all of the sudden I heard him say “Oh my gosh!” all the way in the kitchen.  In short order he appeared with an excited look on his face. “You gotta come hear this, we got something!” I knew it had to be something amazing to get him this worked up.  As he played the recording back, I was shocked to hear “Joe White” as plain as day. That was quickly followed by what we believe is “dog and porch”.  Is Joe sharing with us what he misses most about his time on this side?  Was he one of the men killed in the explosion?  We were quickly discovering that with every clue comes more questions.  It can make your brain hurt!

As with a lot of what we and others discover while speaking with the dead, what and how they choose to communicate with us can at times exhilarate us, confuse us or leave us speechless. But it can also be a stark reminder that there are people and things we too will one day miss.

"Thats a cow"

6/25/11

This particular night found us again at the cemetery and a new location that we had long suspected held secrets yet to be revealed.  There are the ruins of 2 small rock structures on the ranch that have been there as long as anyone in the family remembers.  The one of particular interest on this night is believed by academics to have been built by the Spanish.  It’s exact purpose and genesis are only conjecture but very intriguing none the less.   My husband wanted to do a smudging there to appease the spirits of the natives of the land.  If the Spanish were present at any time, they are known to have oppressed, slaughtered and enslaved the native populations of any land their feet touched.  I am not a fan, and I am known to say something that involves a curse word when referring to the plague that was the Spanish.  

 Spanish rock structure 

Along for the adventure were my husband, Retha and my youngest son’s girlfriend Haley.  We also invited my friend Cyril and his girlfriend at the time.  He had expressed a keen interest in going with us, but I don’t think she approached it with quite the same zeal.  She was quiet and never strayed more than a few inches from one of us the entire time.  

We gave them a quick rundown of the layout and some areas where we had captured some EVPs and then set them loose.  The rest of us all went and did our own thing and gave them some space to explore and find their own groove.  I would occasionally glance their way and wonder if the spirits of the land were welcoming them as they had us.  

That was a cow!

Toward the end of our time there, we met near the center to chat and view each others photos.  Just as were going our separate ways, a cow on an adjacent area of land let out an unusual and bone chilling noise.  Cyril turned on his heels with a wide eyed look of terror and headed straight towards me.  My only response was “that's a cow”.  His shoulders relaxed, the color returned to his face and he gave me a sheepish smile.  They had brought spotlights that could be seen from space, so I can’t imagine they thought anything was going to sneak up on them. That still makes me smile.

Land of wonder

As we drove back to the ranch entrance, my husband stressed to the green horns that the rule in Texas is “where there are rocks, there are snakes”.  I don’t think that did much to make them feel comfortable and then the spleen loosening ride to the site was certain to put them over the edge.  But then again, spirit hunting is not always cushy.  

My husband led us through the thick brush and over hill and dale until we reached the rock house.  As he prepared to do the smudging, I asked everyone to turn off their flashlights and look up.  I wanted them to drink in the magnificent light show that the Lord had so graciously provided for us.  Both of them would comment they had never seen anything like that except in a planetarium.

 

We all did EVP sessions and took a lot of photos but the spirits were silent that night.  I do feel good that we did our humble best to honor and appease them. It is important to my husband to make them aware that they are remembered, cherished and welcome.  I hope they now know that.    

And So It Begins....

6/12/11

This, our first night spent talking to the wind would prove to be the beginning of an amazing journey.  As I stated previously in the intro, I was not prepared for the results we would get.  I had hoped for a token gift but to get such results out of the gate was surprising, exhilarating and mind blowing!  We were also now firmly hooked.  It is like a drug we cannot seem to stay away from.  We go every chance we get.  

While enjoying this immensely, I have since paused to ponder my motivation.  Am I doing this from a place of respect and reverence or is this just a lark?  After some introspection, I have come to the conclusion that I and those with us seek answers, ones we realistically know may never be answered, but we search none the less.  Why are they still here, what do they need from the living, and most importantly, what can we do to help them?  Lofty goals I know, but if not us, then whom?  

I am also keenly aware that at some point we may run into something less benign than we have to date.  Instead of someone who seems only to want to share something of themselves with us, we understand the risk of piercing the veil as it were.  As a Christian, I know there is always light and dark.  While alive we struggle with our dark side, and for many it wins.  Why would it not carry over to the spirit world?   And you cannot discount the fact that there are also non-human spirits that wish to do harm.  My family always anoints ourselves and we say a prayer of protection because while not afraid, we are also not careless.  Zac and the boys at Ghost Adventures have taught me that while provoking makes for good television, the possible ramifications are not to be taken lightly. I will leave that to the professionals.  



Now on to our own adventures……

The spirits seemed to respond to Retha and I and not my husband that night. (a later entry will explain that he has a profound experience at a different location and time)  It may be that we were less intimidating, had a more pleasing cadence or we were more open to the experience, but not unlike anything to do with this, I am not sure yet.  After reviewing the recordings and the photos, we were stunned, elated and downright giddy to hear what we knew were EVPs.  I might have even danced a little.  The first one we recognized as a “no way to explain that voice” on the recording was at first indiscernible to us.  We must have listened to it 50 times.  I had my friend Cyril listen to it, and had everyone else who would hold still long enough, listen to it. Only after my husband downloaded some software and we slowed it down, did we clearly hear that it said “Elizabeth”.  As my husband became more familiar with the software and our ears became more in tune with hearing the EVPs, the discoveries kept coming.  There are of course some that we still have no idea what is being said, but it is undeniable that someone is talking to us. That is good enough for me.  

Under the bridge

Our last stop of the evening was at the trestle bridge. We did a short EVP session that yielded nothing, but we could faintly hear the rhythmic drone of drumming in the distance. Although we did not catch it on the recorder, we can all be heard mentioning it. We could never  discern their exact origin or location.  I wonder if the spirits of the natives were enjoying the night along with us somewhere in the darkness. 

Talking To The Wind

I had always been comfortable with the concept of an afterlife, the existence of a spirit realm and the possibility that some of them were still hanging around.  I had been raised in a family that remains divided on some aspects, but my mother’s side always quietly embraced it while not really discussing it often.  My maternal grandmother is a gifted psychic that unfortunately had been lead to believe that it was “evil, and from the devil.”  She had been punished as a very young child for her innocent recollection of a past life while driving past a hilltop in Arizona.  She vividly remembered that as the very spot where she was killed by Indians. Her premonitions, when realized, scared the living daylights out of her family.  The rebuke and scorn she received lead her to deny, repress and even try to pray it away.  She did not want to be a “witch”.  Now at the age of 90, she realizes it as the gift it is and is it peace with it.  I must admit that it is annoying when she is always right ……

The other thing that really opened me up to spirits still among us is that I live in a house with a “visitor”.  My three boys were the first to speak of him.  They refused to sleep upstairs and would talk of the noises, doors opening, footsteps up the stairs and other occurrences.  I did not disbelieve them, but I was not completely sold either.  None the less, I allowed them the freedom to talk about it openly, sleep downstairs, and consoled them when it scared them.  My “proof” came when my oldest son had a group of friends over and I had three terrified young teenagers tearing down the stairs and running past me like the devil was after them.  All of them had seen the apparition of what is now known as the old man.  He had walked from my youngest son’s room, past my son’s door and into the bathroom.  For the record, I have not seen either of those boys since.  

When I married my husband and he moved in, he was somewhat more circumspect about it.  His theory was that our emotions manifested it, not an actual haunting per se.  He endured my love of all things spooky and would watch the ghost hunting shows with me and even had lively debates regarding our very different views.  I can proudly say he has completely changed his mind.  The old man was nice enough to show himself to him very recently.  No denying that buddy boy.

I have not had many dealings with the old man.  I like to think we have an understanding.  I have asked him not to show himself to me, not to startle me anymore, and to just respect us as we respect him.  He still likes to pull some pranks and has shown himself to most everyone who spends a lot of time at our house but I think we are all at peace with it now.  He really loves messing with my son’s dog when he comes to visit.  He gets poor Jack in a tizzy. I have debated whether to just mention it right off the bat or let them find out for themselves.  I feel for them when they finally decide to mention it.  They always start out with “ I know you are going to think I am crazy, but…”  I usually interject there and say, “you saw the old man?”  The relief is palpable.

Our first ever foray into ghost hunting began with an offhand comment to my husband that we should try it and a plan to do it someday.  We actually decided on the spur of the moment to do it when my oldest son’s girlfriend Retha was at our house and she said she would love do it someday. That was all the incentive I needed.  We were fortunate to have the perfect place to start.  There is an old cemetery on land that was once owned by my husband’s family.  It is secluded, quiet and we had no chance of getting arrested for trespassing… all on my list of things I thought were important.  

We grabbed some flashlights, a digital recorder, some water, a camera and we were off.  I must be honest in saying I was not expecting much, but I did hope that we would get something, anything.

Once we arrived we wandered around the headstones for a while, reading, snapping photos and getting our bearings.  After a while I got the courage to take the recorder and set off to see what I could get.  I chose to start with a grave close to the fence that only had a rock with the intitials DW carved into it.  I timidly began talking to him and asking questions.  It was later discovered he was not in the mood to talk that night.  I moved on to a few other places and then passed the recorder to my husband and went to talk to Retha and see what she was capturing with her camera.  After a time my husband gave the recorder to Retha and we went over to an area where the graves of some men killed in an explosion on the family ranch were buried. They had been buried with only a rock and a crudely fashioned cross formed from rebar.  The names of most were unknown and not all the men killed had been recovered.  It had been a massive black powder explosion while working on the railroad trestle bridge.  The area on the ranch is still referred to as Dead Man’s Cut.

We casually watched as Retha moved from one area to another and all the while I wondered if anyone was talking to us.  We all gathered over by a bench and took a breather.  It was a hot and windy west texas night.   Before leaving, I decided to head off alone to see if there was anything else anyone had to say.  That one decision would change everything for me.  I discovered that night that you can talk to the wind and it will answer back!