One regret I have is that, when we sold my brother’s house, I never got around to smudging or otherwise doing something to acknowledge and disperse the unhappiness that had existed there. Cuz man, there were some demons.
I am not referring to ghosts, per se, actual non-corporeal spirits which may or may not be friendly, but more about the energy we give off over time. Humans are powerful, and we are made up of energy. Think of how we affect each other — that one person who can enrage or melt you with a word or a glance — I can’t believe we don’t leave an imprint on our environment as well.
Fortunately, the circumstances of purchase for the people who bought my brother’s house worked out very well, so I hoped that that was enough to make a fresh start.
I was talking to Sherry the other day, though, and one of the houses she’d looked at was in a similar “state”. The gentleman who was selling the house was elderly, and rather desperate to leave the house and move to a nursing home. You see, his wife of many years had died the year before, and everywhere he turned in that house, she was at his side, and it was too much for him.
There is no way to feel fairy tale fantastic about buying a house like that, and yet, from a real estate perspective, it’s a great way to get a deal. But again, a house like that — you would have to do something to acknowledge the couple/family’s long life and history together, as well as the incredible grief the man selling the house had been living with. Hell, who knows, maybe his wife is a real ghost there. However, as my friend Kim knows, it’s possible to live just fine with ghosts. 🙂
It’s something I like to think about when I’m in houses, especially old houses. Really especially in places like Europe where their history makes every moment of Canada’s seem positively “new”. Layers upon layers of interwoven and intermingling lives and loves and fellowship and discord. Bodies born into this world and bodies borne out of it. An amazing thought, isn’t it? To be not only the accumulated total of our experiences, but coloured by the accumulations of the sweep of the past as well.