There are marks left behind from everyone, everywhere, all the time and throughout the ages; an ancient drawing on a cave, a dusty journal hidden in a box, painted self portraits, books, writings, graffiti on a wall, a carving on a tree, “I was here,” …and sometimes its a misunderstood paranormal occurence, an obscure EVP, an unexplainable movement or sound in the middle of the night. The message is the same. I was here. I am here still.
I log everything about a case in files that include history and research, preliminary notes (a client’s interview or from anyone I’ve spoken to about the site), base readings before investigations which include several different kinds of log sheets, thoughts during the investigation and thoughts afterward. I download audio, video and photographs on CD’s to keep a good archived record of the case and include a hand typed transcript of the audio that highlights normal voices versus paranormal voices-audible/disembodied or EVP. When I review the transcripts it’s easier for me to see a clear picture of the interaction and a conversation that might have taken place. Easier to see if the answers truly correlate not only to the question but the entire conversation. I enjoy looking back at the transcripts and more often than not see fascinating stories unfold there.
I had a series of back to back investigations last year where I recorded a broad array of EVP’s in a short amount of time. All very diverse situations, history’s and stories when researched…but I began to see a recurring phrase or theme when I looked back through the EVP’s in the cases. I noted it in my journal…
“January 11th….I was sitting in my office alone reviewing a manuscript when my printer started acting as if it was prompted to print. I was not near my computer, the screen was closed and as I looked up straight at the printer I saw the most unusual thing. It took a moment for what I was seeing to really sink in. I stared a few seconds more, then rushed into action pulled my digital audio recorder out of my brief case, pressed record and clumsily placed it on my desk. Yeah. My printer was unplugged.
I stared at the plug laying on the ground. Stared at the printer. My computer. They weren’t connected.
In case something was trying to get my attention, I recorded the sounds, about 8 minutes total. I was alone in the house. At one point walked away from the digital recorder to inspect a strange sound in another room. When I reviewed the audio, at 22 seconds I heard someone say, “hello.” It was definitely not me. And a few phrases were spoken into the recorder while I was out of the room. When I returned from the other room I asked a few questions out loud. I cannot believe the responses I heard….!
Me: “Hello….is there someone here who would like to say something?”
EVP: “Can you hear me?”
Me: “My name is Michelle…..”
EVP: “HEAR ME….”
Me: “Do you need anything? Do you have a message for me?”
EVP: “She can hear us….”
Me: “I don’t know if I can help…but I’ll try.”
EVP: “You have work to do.”
I was pretty shaken by that encounter. And the ones that followed. A series actually of the printer making funny noises like someone was pushing buttons, different hours and times, not every day and with no pattern to it, me grabbing the recorder and hearing things like, “Help me. Help me please.” “Are you there?” “The clues are right there.” They answered my questions in an intelligent and logical fashion with little randomness at all. Eventually the “printer sessions” stopped. Mainly because I became so deeply emotional about them, what they meant and worried about what felt like a doorway that had opened in my office where spirits were coming in, taking a number and waiting for me to ask them what they wanted to talk about today. Being a paranormal counselor was NOT something I was ready for and as my work outside the house grew more intense I knew I needed to close that door and use my office as my personal space. Have a safe, quiet zone where I could reflect and take a break- instead of perpetuating the work seemingly non-stop. My final evp session at the house, one of my favorites, taught me an important lesson about not relying too much on instruments as much as my own instincts. At least until our instruments evolve into more accurate tools that truly measure what our gut sometimes tells us.
I don’t exactly know what the “printer sessions” meant. I know there were many different voices that came through; men, women, children. I could tell a difference in sex and age of who was speaking. Never got a lot of information. I was fascinated that they were walking in, getting my attention, asking for help, saying hello, telling me their name or something important they wanted me to know and then seemed to move on. I’d wondered if the death of a loved one made me more open so spirits and guides could console or reach out. Wondered if just my new found deeper seriousness on the subject opened the door. In the end, what they wanted and what I gave them seemed to be nothing more than acknowledgment. Yes I can hear you, yes I know you are there. Yes, I will tell others to pay attention, too. I hope I did not miss the lesson.
A good friend who is a medium told me that we all have a psychic beacon over our heads that we have the power to turn up or down. She said, “girl, yours is all the way up right now and they can see you from a mile away! They’re coming in droves to speak especially since you are listening. Turn it down a notch. Draw some boundaries.” I don’t know if that was truly the case, but that’s exactly what I did.
The following weekend I went with my team to an old site to try out some equipment and test a theory. There was a great civil war burial ground tucked away in a small section of the site. At one point I was drawn to that area, walked from my group and ventured there alone. I could still see them in the distance but I can remember feeling a bit like Nemo swimming away from his friends to the edge of the abyss…the darkness of the ocean. It was quiet, ominious…felt so far removed even though in the scheme of things it really wasn’t. My ears popped, my skin tingled and my heart raced….signs I would learn to interpret as indications an energy was very near. I asked a few questions and suddenly had the bizarre sensation that I was being rushed and surrounded by something massive…so strong. I could barely breathe and my heart was beating so quickly it felt as if it had stopped. I remember feeling as if a man on a horse was circling me fast and out of the blue, remembering the recent lecture on boundaries said, “I need you to give me some space! Back off a little, ok? We can talk, I will listen…but just back out of my space a bit, please.”
On my recorder, he responds as clearly and strongly as the energy I felt surround me. ” SEE ME!”
Hear me. See me. Know that I was here and I am here still. This is the message we need to be taking to everyone at the end of the day. We want to know if there is life after death…if we endure. They seem to need us to know just as desperately that yes indeed there is and yes, we do.