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An ambulance, ghosts and a good days work.

Started by CatTomb, July 06, 2015, 05:32:50 AM

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CatTomb

By all that's Holy, I love what I do.

Got a call from a client who referred me to a couple having trouble selling their house. My client believed there were ghosts running off potential buyers.  :wacko2:

She wondered if I knew anyone in Portland, OR who could "clear" the property.  :bad:

I asked how much she thought they were willing to pay. When she told me, I immediately said "Shit, for that, I'll do it."  :shok:

She emailed a letter of introduction, I followed up with an email and the haunted property owners gave me a call.  :pardon:

I detailed my credentials, experience, my typical plan of action ... and my price.  :mocking:

They wanted to know how soon I could be there.  :good:

I had a free day and my '87 FJ, I said I'd be there in two days.

It had been f'ing hot here, so I decided to get an early start. I hit the road at 5:00 am and headed up over the Santiam Pass from Central Oregon toward Salem and then Portland. It was in the low 50's at my house but it got cold over the pass, probably mid 40's. As I descended into the valley, it warmed up and I made it the 156 miles in just under 3 hours.

The aforementioned house is only about 7 miles from the center of Portland but is heavily wooded and overgrown. 80' tall beautiful trees, a lower canopy of greenery and then ivy covering ground. The house was built by the owners.  :scratch_one-s_head:  :nea:

The interior had been staged by the realtor but the staging couldn't hide the horrible layout. There were sharp angles everywhere. Some rooms were L shaped and the dimensions precluded any sort of functionality.  :bomb:

On top of that, it had a ghost in the guest house. On top of that, there was an old abandoned water tower surrounded by a barbed wire topped chain link fence that was a portal for a couple of dozen other ghosts. I was overjoyed!


I spent the first forty-some years of my life as a businessman. 100 employees working three shifts, high stress and grew to hate every damn soul-sucking minute of it.  :dash2:   :ireful:  :flag_of_truce:

In my early thirties, I started practicing yoga to recovery from injuries caused by too much weightlifting, regular mountain bike crashes and overuse pain from years of surfing. (I dealt with the stress of life by over-exercising)

Gradually, I gave up lifting weights and delved deeper into the esoteric practices of yoga. Yoga as we know it in this country has only been around for a hundred years. Physical movements and postures (asana and vinyasa) were developed in India in the late 1800's and early 1900's as a way to fleece anglos. It is still working!

The yoga that is thousands of years old is based on the subtle body, meditation and expanded states of consciousness. I started with the "harder is better" physical yoga model and gradually transitioned to the deeper and more powerful subtle practice.

In my mid-forties, my biggest customer took all of its business to China. At the same exact time, I spent a couple of weeks with two of the few yoga/meditation teachers I still respected. There, it was pointed out that I had a aptitude for energetic empathy. A definition would be the ability to read the electromagnetic configurations of humans, buildings, things, interactions, communications, etc.

A simpler way to say it was I could "feel" what was going on around me. A switch flipped. I changed, morphed into something else. It was an ecstatic revelation.

I got back from the retreat, told my wife I no longer wanted to be a corporate executive and wanted to find something to do with my life that didn't involve employees and actually helped people.

Over the next six months, I got divorced (she didn't want to join my on my new path), sold my business, two houses, four cars and was left with a pile of cash and a mountain bike. All of my earthly belongings fit into the back of a pickup truck.  :bye:

I enrolled in a four-year Healing Science program, started teaching yoga and living simply.

Over the last ten years I have developed a business teaching personal development, wrote a book, The Discomfort of Happiness, Mastering the Art of Vitality, moved to Central Oregon and bought two motorcycles.

Now, I ride several days a week, trail run every day and work with extraordinary people looking to grow in their ability to communicate, relate and succeed.

Back to the ghosts.  :mail1:

It seemed to me that the fence around the old water tank was a power source, sucking in all of the proximal energy. The tank itself seemed to be some sort of portal or saloon for entities (everything from random bits of consciousness to full-on ghosts).

The first thing I did was change the configuration of the fence by directing and grounding its energy into the ground. Kind of like flipping a magnet over or changing it from pulling energy to pushing energy. Next I made an effort to change the resonance of the water tower to one that would not be inviting to ghosts.

The house itself had one entity living in a stairwell in a building the couple used for family therapy workshops, but was generally just drained of all energy. I worked the magic, cleaned and energized every room and evicted the entity.

Then I called the owners. I shared what I had found and they were amazed. Every thing I related, they had experienced, including moving from the house because they felt like it was sucking them dry.

I rode to their place, picked up a check and started my ride home. It was well over ninety degrees and in full leathers, even at speed, it was hot.  :diablo:

After navigating the afternoon traffic out of Portland and heading up into the mountains, it cooled off. I stopped at a rest stop for a 45 minute phone consult with another client  and then rode the rest of the way home.

15 hours, 320 miles, 12 ghosts, two buildings and a half an acre of property. I made enough money to pay my rent for a month and had an awesome experience.  :hi:

Any day on an FJ is a good day but a day on an FJ with ghosts and a paycheck is exceptional.  :drinks:

Jeff

"Never forget that only dead fish swim with the stream." Malcolm Muggeridge, Chronicles of Wasted Time (1972)

CatTomb

"Never forget that only dead fish swim with the stream." Malcolm Muggeridge, Chronicles of Wasted Time (1972)

TexasDave

Great story Jeff. Enjoyed reading and relating to it. Never believed in ghosts. Until I bought an old house from an old couple who had raised their family in it. First Labrador retriever acquired for my daughters hesitated at the front door on the way in and spent the first week constantly looking up to the corner of the living room. Didn't think anything of it, there was nothing up there. Second Labrador and a cat same behavior. Third daughter arrived and at a few months old--you guessed it--looked up in the corner and started jabbering away. Daughter would jabber, listen and then laugh and repeat this process several times. Ran into the old couple later and they said yes they knew there was a ghost in the house. I never saw the ghost but I guess the animals and the baby could and if they didn't have a problem with it I didn't either.  Dave
A pistol is like a parachute, if you need one and don't have one you will never need one again.

ribbert

"Tell a wise man something he doesn't know and he'll thank you, tell a fool something he doesn't know and he'll abuse you"

Zwartie

If you are going to be busting ghosts then an ambulance would be the vehicle of choice!



Zwartie
Ben Zwart
London, ON
1992 FJ1200
1977 KZ200

CatTomb

Zwartie, I would have spent everything I made on gas to drive that pig to Portland and back.

A replica is for sale for $110K. Who would pay over a hundred grand for a fake is beyond me. http://bit.ly/1HIq8q3


Dave, The last house my girlfriend and I lived in had a ghost as well. My dog acted the same way. That one was loud, regularly opening and closing doors.


Noel, You're right, that is my hand but do you see how the hair is sticking up on my arms ... and don't the weeds look menacing???



"Never forget that only dead fish swim with the stream." Malcolm Muggeridge, Chronicles of Wasted Time (1972)