As the internet grows, and wicca finds itself on google+ pages, facebook pages, personal blogs and who knows where else, I sometimes wonder if there may not be some dilution of tradition. Specifically, I'm referring to spell casting. A lot of people get into wicca not really knowing much about it, and they refer to these myriad of webpages for their source material.
Usually when a person posts a spell or incantation online, with the best of intentions, I'm sure.. they're only trying to help the uninitiated.. it usually goes something like this: Gather these materials, wait for the moon to be in x phase, and then recite these words. And I'm not saying that there's anything wrong with that. If that helps you get your start, that's awesome. What I'm talking about is taking it one step further. Feeling your wicca inside yourself. Making the spells and rites yours. Wicca is very much about feeling it, and not so much about prescribed rules and exacting rituals. And in order to do that, it is helpful to understand a few basic things about spellcasting.
When casting what most witches will commonly refer to as "white magic" or "light magic" spells, the wording of rituals and exact materials aren't as important as one might think. You see, when you cast light, you draw upon yourself, your core, for the power of the spell. You ask Gaia/Mother Nature/Mother Earth/The Goddess/The Universe to help your spell become manifest, but the power comes from within. Gaia/Mother Nature/Mother Earth/The Goddess/The Universe serves only as a focus, or amplification. Therefore, it can be said that the materials used and words spoken are more for your own pleasure than anything else. Gaia/Mother Nature/Mother Earth/The Goddess/The Universe doesn't require or desire your praise. Those words and materials are mostly for you. They are words and items that help you to focus on the elements necessary for the casting of the spell. Like associating amethyst with tranquility, or willow with calm strength.
When you cast "black magic" or "dark magic", on the other hand, the power you draw on comes from the ethereal plane, most often demonic entities. When you cast from the dark, your wording and materials are exceedingly important, because their purpose is for the pleasure of the demonic entity from whom you are requesting the power. Their purpose is also for your protection from that entity. The preceeding notwithstanding, I do not support, endorse or recommend the use of black magic in any way. I only say these things to illustrate the differences in the importance of wording and materials. When casting from the dark, one never wishes to speak the wrong word, or use the wrong material at all. Not even a close substitute should be attempted. These mistakes are most often the reason for the failure of dark spells, and the repurcussions upon the caster.
And if you're here because you've watched every episode of Supernatural.... wash your brain out, none of it's real. Well ok, most of it's not real. They occasionally touch on something that's true.
But anyway, getting back to the casting. Again, stay away from the dark side. It is easier, more seductive. Once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny. Consume you it will! Ahem. Oops. Sorry. What I meant was, you know.. don't play with demons. You'll get burned. As for the light, feel it within you when you cast. If the words don't seem to roll off your tongue all that well, or just feel weird, find synonyms. Make the ritual your own. If you need a certain material and can't get it for whatever reason, maybe it's not available in your area of the world, do some research into its properties and find out why the spell calls for that particular material or item. Once you know that, you might be able to find a substitute with nearly identical properties.
Feel the wicca. Be the wicca. ;)
Sunday, October 30, 2016
Sunday, June 15, 2014
The visit
I was working at the Salvation Army, as a front desk attendant in the men's hostel. He came to the front door, stood there wordlessly, looking at the door, rather than at me. I was to his right, in an office perpendicular to the security door, and as though it was the most normal thing to do, I pressed the button to unlock the door and let him in. Then I casually opened the office door so he could enter, which he did, and he sat in a chair across from my desk. I knew him, after all. He'd been a resident of the centre while on parole recently. There was only one problem: he'd died of a drug overdose the previous night.
This was, of course, a dream. But an extremely vivid one. I'll call him Joe here, to protect his identity and adhere to my confidentiality agreement with Correctional Services Canada. Joe's eyes were so sunken, I couldn't actually see his eyes. They were just dark shadows. Pits, really. He kept his face downcast, to the floor. He wore the pajama pants he often wore while having resided there, and a simple t-shirt. He never spoke, and I continued with my paperwork, but the impression that came to my mind as this 'dream' progressed was that he was saying thank you to me, for having treated him like a human being, with dignity, during his stay there. He also seemed to be apologizing, for fucking up yet again. The overdose, that had taken his life.
Joe was an addict, and known recidivist. But he did his time and obeyed the rules. While on parole, he was polite with hostel staff, occasionally even helpful, and completed his day parole quietly, uneventfully. He even passed all drug tests while on day parole, avoiding the temptation until he was granted full parole, meaning he could leave the halfway house and get his own apartment. Within a week, he was dead.
It was one of the most vivid 'dreams' I've ever had, and one of the only dreams I've ever remembered more than a day or two. This happened about 3 years ago and I still remember it clearly. Was it a dream, or a visit?
One other thing. I didn't know that Joe had died at the time of this visit. I learned of his death several days later, from our resident social worker.
This was, of course, a dream. But an extremely vivid one. I'll call him Joe here, to protect his identity and adhere to my confidentiality agreement with Correctional Services Canada. Joe's eyes were so sunken, I couldn't actually see his eyes. They were just dark shadows. Pits, really. He kept his face downcast, to the floor. He wore the pajama pants he often wore while having resided there, and a simple t-shirt. He never spoke, and I continued with my paperwork, but the impression that came to my mind as this 'dream' progressed was that he was saying thank you to me, for having treated him like a human being, with dignity, during his stay there. He also seemed to be apologizing, for fucking up yet again. The overdose, that had taken his life.
Joe was an addict, and known recidivist. But he did his time and obeyed the rules. While on parole, he was polite with hostel staff, occasionally even helpful, and completed his day parole quietly, uneventfully. He even passed all drug tests while on day parole, avoiding the temptation until he was granted full parole, meaning he could leave the halfway house and get his own apartment. Within a week, he was dead.
It was one of the most vivid 'dreams' I've ever had, and one of the only dreams I've ever remembered more than a day or two. This happened about 3 years ago and I still remember it clearly. Was it a dream, or a visit?
One other thing. I didn't know that Joe had died at the time of this visit. I learned of his death several days later, from our resident social worker.
Sunday, April 20, 2014
So you want to make a wand?
Recently, I read and replied to a google+ post on the subject of making a wand, and I decided to write an entry on the subject. The absolute very first consideration though, is this: do you want a wand because you wish to seriously explore the world of Wicca, or because you absolutely adore the Harry Potter universe? If you answer the latter, this is not the article for you, and you should be able to find many wands to your liking on eBay or Amazon. If however, you have thoroughly considered and answer the former, then let's move on.
Make, don't buy. As stated, there are many handsome offerings available on eBay and Amazon, but none of them will "hold a charge", so to speak. They are mass produced, cheap, and not made by wand makers, rather by merchants looking to make a buck off the recent surge of interest in Hollywood-style magic. There are no wand makers in the real world. There are people and companies that make wands, yes, but there are no wand makers. If you want a proper wand, suitable for actual Wiccan practices, you really need to make your own.
Do you need a wand? All the above notwithstanding, you should ask yourself if you actually want a wand. If you plan to be working, you likely need a focus for your power. But it needn't necessarily be a wand. Some of us use a staff or cane. Either way, make, don't buy.
So we've decided? Whether you've decided on a wand, staff, or cane, the following will apply universally.
Choose your wood. The selection of wood will depend on a great many factors. There are several websites which can tell you which species of wood is best for which type of magic, and some will even tell you which is best for certain types of people. Not all will be available in your geographic region though. Don't decide on a species just yet though, because there are other things to consider. One of the first things to remember is Gaia's blessing, without which, your wand/staff/cane will be useless. It is preferable to use naturally felled wood, rather than cutting it yourself. If you must cut, seek the tree's permission first. Ask the tree to contribute. If you have any connection at all to nature, you'll feel the answer. Preferable though, is to find naturally felled wood, and a great time to do this is immediately following a thunderstorm. This will enable you to obtain your wood without cutting, and will also provide you with wood that has been charged by nature. This wood will provide you with a more powerful starting point than a cut piece.
Dry that sucker out. Now that you have your wood, bring it home, and let it dry for a few days. Usually three will suffice. During this period, try to hold it a lot. Holding it and meditating, or even holding it while you do completely unrelated things around the house will allow the wood to tell you what it wants to be, how it wants to be shaped. As Mr. Olivander said, the wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter. This, of course, is not a fully crafted wand in a pretty box just waiting to be held. But it is a wand, under all that extraneous wood, and you will not be the one deciding how it will look. The wand knows how it wants to look, you must open your mind and listen.
Gather supplies. Once you start to have an idea how your wand wants to look (or staff or cane), you will need to gather your supplies. You will need tools, such as a knife for whittling, possibly carving knives, (wood carving, not veggie ;) ) you may need a saw, a drill, possibly even a lathe, depending on your access to tools, and extent that you wish to go with this work. You may also need materials such as gemstones, copper wire, feather(s), etc. Hopefully, you will have learned by now how to listen to your wand enough that you'll know what materials you need.
Look to luna. Some practitioners will say that you should perform the construction during and near the time of the full moon. Others will tell you this isn't important, so long as you perform a consecration rite under a full moon once the wand is completed. I happen to fall into the latter camp, as I realize that many of us may be too busy to complete the project in less than a few weeks, or even more. That makes it kinda hard to do it all under a full moon. Just don't forget to consecrate your wand under the full moon when it's done.
Don't glue it! You may wish to attach items of power to your wand, such as a gemstone or feather or other such item. By all means, do so. But don't use glue to attach them. Gems can be attached using copper wire, which is an excellent conductor of magic, and gives a nice decorative look to the wand as well. And by wire, I don't mean hair-thin electrical wire. I mean 1/16th wire, similar to solder, or even 1/8th. You can wrap this around your gem, and around the wand, or through a hole you might drill in the wand. A feather can be attached using thin strips of leather. Deer leather can be purchased from native arts and crafts stores at reasonable prices, and is excellent for this use, natural, and usually humanely hunted, not farmed like cattle.
Further to the issue about not using glue, I also recommend avoidance of modern fasteners such as nails or screws. This will likely not be an issue for a wand, but might be for a cane. If you need to join pieces, particularly at angles and such, I recommend that you research carpenter joinery techniques, rather than using anything as crude as nails or screws in your creation.
Seal with more than a kiss. Be sure to use a good varnish or shellac on your wand, especially in any drilled holes, to protect it from wear and water.
Be creative. Make your wand yours. The more you personalize it, the more of your own power you're putting into it. Aside from gems and feathers, another thing you may wish do to is to burn runes into your wand. Or carve them in.
I hope this may be helpful for wiccans, especially those new to the craft, who are seeking that perfect wand or other such focus, and when I get a chance, I'll even post a picture of my own staff.
Thursday, October 31, 2013
THE DUMB SUPPER
I’ve followed, studied, questioned, participated, observed, bled, sang, learned, changed, grown with Magick, spirituality, the occult for the majority of my life. I’ve looked at it from every angle I could wrap my head around, delved into different aspects of Shamanism and found those things that are personal and private to me. I practice in individual expression and belief as opposed to “organized religion” and am convinced that for everyone, there is a unique way of seeing the Universe that should be pursued and celebrated.
Samhainn, Samhuinn, Samhain is one of four mid season festivals on the witches wheel of holidays of which there are eight total. The Veil between the world of mortals and the after life, spirit realm, the dream road is at it’s thinnest at this time of the year. Ancestral worship is very strong for many different traditions. Worship meaning something more akin to respect. Many years ago I learned of a ritual called, “The Dumb Supper” and decided that I wanted to try it. You prepare the best food with great care, thinking on those in your life that you have loved and lost. I’ve incorporated things like listening to their favorite music, cooking their favorite foods, having pictures of them out. Sometimes I have it outside, weather permitting.
I start my dumb suppers around nine on All Hallows. A decorative altar is made up, things that I have of those past sitting on it. One year my brother included the hat that he had inherited from my grandfather, I have jewelry my grandmother wore. The place setting for the meal can be anything from paper plates to the best china. Magick done with positive intent is largely intuitive and individual.
When dinner is served, you make a plate for your loved ones, as well as set a place for them, leaving them a seat too. When I sit for the meal, I do not speak, which is where the expression “dumb” comes from, meaning mute and not meant in a negative way. You stay silent during the remainder of the meal. I have done this with groups of people before and always it’s interesting to see how people react to the silence alone. The first group dumb supper I did erupted into a full blown food fight near the end of the meal, which than evolved into midnight margaritas. I stole that idea from the film, ‘Practical Magic.’ That’s become a yearly tradition for me: The contemplation and silence of those who have gone before me, ancestors, friends, even beloved animals, the preparation of food and place settings, building the altar, eating, followed by midnight celebration‘s that generally involve a fire pit, music and dance.
I once had a dumb supper with just one friend of mine and I invited a cat that I had lost earlier in the year to come eat with us without telling her any specific’s about it. Once we sat down to eat and meditate in quite she began sneezing and her eyes swelled up. Afterward she told me that she was allergic to cats and that’s what it felt like, that there was a cat with us, but there were none. I believe it was the Universe’s way of letting me know that my cat friend was there.
Magick is very particular. Be careful what you wish for is not just a saying, it’s words to live by. Things can manifest themselves in strange ways. So it’s best to be very specific about what you want.
While Harry Potter was a lovely fictional story and very respectful to the ideas of Magick, obviously we don’t live in a world where Magick is that flashy. I find it’s much more subtle.
If I remember correctly my first dumb supper was in 1993. I say that realizing now that was 20 years ago and feeling a bit of nostalgia. It was just me in a small apartment in Burbank California, nothing close to nature anywhere near me. It’s grown into something intensely personal and very comforting. It’s a time when you can acknowledge those that have brought meaning to your life in the past. I find it very healing at times, occasionally hilarious and very moving. I always feel exhilarated afterward and sometimes I’ve felt the presence of those that have past so very strongly that it makes me sad all over again. For me it’s worth it.
Many times we are unable to honor the passing of our loved ones directly after their passing for obvious reasons, the pain. When the grief is too near, you don’t really have time to remember them and the happiness they brought you or the wisdom they instilled in us. All that exists is about making arrangements, getting through the death ritual, whatever it may be. With a dumb supper you get to say things that need said, not out loud, at least not while eating. We exist because of our ancestors. We are who we are because of the people and creatures that we have known and loved, it’s a wonderful feeling to acknowledge that, even if there are a few tears.
Samhainn, Samhuinn, Samhain is one of four mid season festivals on the witches wheel of holidays of which there are eight total. The Veil between the world of mortals and the after life, spirit realm, the dream road is at it’s thinnest at this time of the year. Ancestral worship is very strong for many different traditions. Worship meaning something more akin to respect. Many years ago I learned of a ritual called, “The Dumb Supper” and decided that I wanted to try it. You prepare the best food with great care, thinking on those in your life that you have loved and lost. I’ve incorporated things like listening to their favorite music, cooking their favorite foods, having pictures of them out. Sometimes I have it outside, weather permitting.
I start my dumb suppers around nine on All Hallows. A decorative altar is made up, things that I have of those past sitting on it. One year my brother included the hat that he had inherited from my grandfather, I have jewelry my grandmother wore. The place setting for the meal can be anything from paper plates to the best china. Magick done with positive intent is largely intuitive and individual.
When dinner is served, you make a plate for your loved ones, as well as set a place for them, leaving them a seat too. When I sit for the meal, I do not speak, which is where the expression “dumb” comes from, meaning mute and not meant in a negative way. You stay silent during the remainder of the meal. I have done this with groups of people before and always it’s interesting to see how people react to the silence alone. The first group dumb supper I did erupted into a full blown food fight near the end of the meal, which than evolved into midnight margaritas. I stole that idea from the film, ‘Practical Magic.’ That’s become a yearly tradition for me: The contemplation and silence of those who have gone before me, ancestors, friends, even beloved animals, the preparation of food and place settings, building the altar, eating, followed by midnight celebration‘s that generally involve a fire pit, music and dance.
I once had a dumb supper with just one friend of mine and I invited a cat that I had lost earlier in the year to come eat with us without telling her any specific’s about it. Once we sat down to eat and meditate in quite she began sneezing and her eyes swelled up. Afterward she told me that she was allergic to cats and that’s what it felt like, that there was a cat with us, but there were none. I believe it was the Universe’s way of letting me know that my cat friend was there.
Magick is very particular. Be careful what you wish for is not just a saying, it’s words to live by. Things can manifest themselves in strange ways. So it’s best to be very specific about what you want.
While Harry Potter was a lovely fictional story and very respectful to the ideas of Magick, obviously we don’t live in a world where Magick is that flashy. I find it’s much more subtle.
If I remember correctly my first dumb supper was in 1993. I say that realizing now that was 20 years ago and feeling a bit of nostalgia. It was just me in a small apartment in Burbank California, nothing close to nature anywhere near me. It’s grown into something intensely personal and very comforting. It’s a time when you can acknowledge those that have brought meaning to your life in the past. I find it very healing at times, occasionally hilarious and very moving. I always feel exhilarated afterward and sometimes I’ve felt the presence of those that have past so very strongly that it makes me sad all over again. For me it’s worth it.
Many times we are unable to honor the passing of our loved ones directly after their passing for obvious reasons, the pain. When the grief is too near, you don’t really have time to remember them and the happiness they brought you or the wisdom they instilled in us. All that exists is about making arrangements, getting through the death ritual, whatever it may be. With a dumb supper you get to say things that need said, not out loud, at least not while eating. We exist because of our ancestors. We are who we are because of the people and creatures that we have known and loved, it’s a wonderful feeling to acknowledge that, even if there are a few tears.
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
TRUE GHOST STORIES: EPISODE ONE
When I was a child the real horror story was growing up with a mother who was mentally ill and an alcoholic and absent father. My main play mates were my dead sister and Mr. Nobody, see previous blog, they kept me safe and entertained. I was often warned by them not to pick up certain snakes, to stay away from the rushing river or to go play in the mud puddles when it thunder stormed. (That last one I’ve never managed to shake as I love to play in the mud in torrential summer thunder storms if I’m out in the country.) So when I was young I thought seeing the dead was a natural thing and I actually still believe that as an adult. I had to go through the phase of learning that that actually made you a freak in most persons eyes and opinions. ‘The Sight’ as it’s called by my mother and many others was a curse and blessing at the same time. When paranormal creatures realize you can see them, they will be attracted to you and often make their presence known. I’ve had many experiences in my life that gave me knowledge of things that were unknown to most. Some were cool, many were horrifying and I am very thankful that I had a child protectorate for many things when I was very young.
I was never frightened of skeletons, black cats, witches, or ghosts, they all seemed very real and very natural to me. It’s the living that frighten me, always have. One day while I was over at a fellow ‘Brownie’s’ house my mother came running in and took me home. She told me a very bad man was loose in the area and they were advising everyone to bring their children inside and lock the doors. So that’s what we did. I remember the fear rolling off of her, it was almost palpable to me as I was an extremely sensitive child. After a while my mother went to take a shower and she told me not to open the door for any strangers. She disappeared and sure enough, moments later there was a knock on the door. Our front room looked out on our porch where they were standing and our curtains were pulled because of the cercumstances. I slipped between the curtains and the wall studying the man on the porch closely and concluded that I indeed did not know him. Right as I realized this man was a stranger my sister, my dead sister, grabbed my dress and yanked me to my knees, telling me to hide underneath the couch and so I did. There was fear rolling off of her too. I remember her fear, but more than anything, I remember the forceful yank of her tiny hand that brought me to my knees and out of sight of whomever was on the porch. I’d never been able to feel her physically before and it startled me a little, but I wasn’t scared of her, I was scared of the man on the porch.
He left or at least, he was gone when my mother returned from her shower. I don’t remember where my brother, my living brothers, were, probably with my father as the parents were divorced by than. The mom had to coax me out from under the couch at that time. Later that evening she was doing the dishes and I was sitting on the floor in front of the tv which was turned to the news so she could listen. Even though I wasn’t an only child, my brothers never wanted to play with me because I was so young, so I had to find ways to entertain myself. That’s something I’m still very good at, in fact, I don’t believe in boredom. The news was showing pictures of the man that had been on the porch and I called to my mom. “That’s him! Moooooooom! Look look!” I was six. She came into the room wiping her hands off on her apron and looked at me curiously. “That’s t he man from that knocked earlier mom.” Pointed to the TV and I’d never seen my mother so pale before. She just grabbed me and squeezed a little too hard and asked me to look again just to make sure. I was sure...
“One of the killers asked the victims if they had any money or guns. Yes, to both questions. One gang member pocketed the money, about $30, while another located a rifle and bent the barrel in the toilet. Then Roger Clay Drollinger walked behind each of the teen-aged boys who were on the trailer floor, tapped each one on the foot, and asked, "How old are you, son?" "How old are you, boy?" After that, he ordered his cohorts to turn off their flashlights and put them aside. Four shotguns boomed repeatedly, blasting the brains and blood and life out of the four boys on the floor. But Betty Spencer's wig saved her life. A few pellets grazed her scalp, and her wig flew off. The killers thought her life had gone with it. But as one of her sons died, she heard his blood gurgle out as he slowly and faintly whispered, "Oh God, I'm flying . . . Oh God, I'm flying."
Leaving the grisly, blood-splattered, scene the Drollinger gang decided to take one of the new cars parked outside. With two gang members in that car and two in the rented Opel, they drove for several miles and then left the stolen car at the side of the road with the keys in the ignition. The killers laughed as they abandoned the car, planning and hoping someone else would take it, get caught by police, and end up facing murder charges.
The next morning Roger Drollinger appeared in court in Crawfordsville to testify in his drug trial, acting as though nothing at all had happened the night before.”
There was a nation wide man hunt for Roger Clay Drollinger, last seen in Crawfordsville, Indiana, where I was born and lived at the time, between the “St. Valentine’s Day Massacre” and Easter in the late winter, early spring of 1977. He was the man on our porch. To this day I can feel the fear from my mother and sister and I will never forget his face.
(footnotes:
1)article@ http://occasionaljustice.com/Drollinger.html
2)http://www.antiquesnavigator.com/ebay/images/2013/350891079332.jpg)
I was never frightened of skeletons, black cats, witches, or ghosts, they all seemed very real and very natural to me. It’s the living that frighten me, always have. One day while I was over at a fellow ‘Brownie’s’ house my mother came running in and took me home. She told me a very bad man was loose in the area and they were advising everyone to bring their children inside and lock the doors. So that’s what we did. I remember the fear rolling off of her, it was almost palpable to me as I was an extremely sensitive child. After a while my mother went to take a shower and she told me not to open the door for any strangers. She disappeared and sure enough, moments later there was a knock on the door. Our front room looked out on our porch where they were standing and our curtains were pulled because of the cercumstances. I slipped between the curtains and the wall studying the man on the porch closely and concluded that I indeed did not know him. Right as I realized this man was a stranger my sister, my dead sister, grabbed my dress and yanked me to my knees, telling me to hide underneath the couch and so I did. There was fear rolling off of her too. I remember her fear, but more than anything, I remember the forceful yank of her tiny hand that brought me to my knees and out of sight of whomever was on the porch. I’d never been able to feel her physically before and it startled me a little, but I wasn’t scared of her, I was scared of the man on the porch.
He left or at least, he was gone when my mother returned from her shower. I don’t remember where my brother, my living brothers, were, probably with my father as the parents were divorced by than. The mom had to coax me out from under the couch at that time. Later that evening she was doing the dishes and I was sitting on the floor in front of the tv which was turned to the news so she could listen. Even though I wasn’t an only child, my brothers never wanted to play with me because I was so young, so I had to find ways to entertain myself. That’s something I’m still very good at, in fact, I don’t believe in boredom. The news was showing pictures of the man that had been on the porch and I called to my mom. “That’s him! Moooooooom! Look look!” I was six. She came into the room wiping her hands off on her apron and looked at me curiously. “That’s t he man from that knocked earlier mom.” Pointed to the TV and I’d never seen my mother so pale before. She just grabbed me and squeezed a little too hard and asked me to look again just to make sure. I was sure...
“One of the killers asked the victims if they had any money or guns. Yes, to both questions. One gang member pocketed the money, about $30, while another located a rifle and bent the barrel in the toilet. Then Roger Clay Drollinger walked behind each of the teen-aged boys who were on the trailer floor, tapped each one on the foot, and asked, "How old are you, son?" "How old are you, boy?" After that, he ordered his cohorts to turn off their flashlights and put them aside. Four shotguns boomed repeatedly, blasting the brains and blood and life out of the four boys on the floor. But Betty Spencer's wig saved her life. A few pellets grazed her scalp, and her wig flew off. The killers thought her life had gone with it. But as one of her sons died, she heard his blood gurgle out as he slowly and faintly whispered, "Oh God, I'm flying . . . Oh God, I'm flying."
Leaving the grisly, blood-splattered, scene the Drollinger gang decided to take one of the new cars parked outside. With two gang members in that car and two in the rented Opel, they drove for several miles and then left the stolen car at the side of the road with the keys in the ignition. The killers laughed as they abandoned the car, planning and hoping someone else would take it, get caught by police, and end up facing murder charges.
The next morning Roger Drollinger appeared in court in Crawfordsville to testify in his drug trial, acting as though nothing at all had happened the night before.”
There was a nation wide man hunt for Roger Clay Drollinger, last seen in Crawfordsville, Indiana, where I was born and lived at the time, between the “St. Valentine’s Day Massacre” and Easter in the late winter, early spring of 1977. He was the man on our porch. To this day I can feel the fear from my mother and sister and I will never forget his face.
(footnotes:
1)article@ http://occasionaljustice.com/Drollinger.html
2)http://www.antiquesnavigator.com/ebay/images/2013/350891079332.jpg)
Monday, October 28, 2013
MR. NOBODY
When I was a child I spent my play time in the woods playing with my dead sister and my ‘imaginary friend’ named Mr. Nobody. My sister looked just like me, but Mr. Nobody, he was a skeleton with top hat and tails. How many two year olds do you know that would make up a friend like that? I have vivid recollections of what he looked like, how he moved and laughed. Once when I grew to close to the river he bade me come back toward him and I did. It seemed he was always looking after me.
My brothers are five and seven years older than I am and when you’re little that age made a huge difference. When they did look after me they taught me how to pick up snakes and crawdads. I was fearless and out to impress the brothers of course because my family was my whole world than. They were often too busy to watch me or too cool to play with me, but I was never alone. Mr. Nobody and my sister were always there.
I talked about them too, after a while my family got tired of me ‘lying’ all the time. Once on a family trip between Indiana and Pennsylvania for a family reunion, my mother decided to ‘get rid’ of Mr. Nobody once and for all. She decided that we left him at a Sohio Gas Station and continually reinforced the idea any time I brought him up. It was a somewhat traumatic experience, but I was already getting used to those by the age of four. Something DID happen, because I seemed to loose my ‘sight’ a bit after that. I didn’t see him anymore and I only felt my sister, I didn’t see either one of them again, not for a long time.
My parents divorced when I was four, my father abandoning my brothers and I to live with a mentally ill mother. When I was five my mother told me that my grandmother, my fathers mother, had died and that I couldn’t go see my dad because he was going to the funeral. Well, I was maybe six or seven and I had no idea how to act around death so I never said anything to my dad about it. The next time I went to visit my father, the phone rang and I was the only one around. When I picked up the phone it was my grandmother, the same one that was supposed to be dead. I learned that the woman I trusted more than anyone in my whole world was a liar and that I couldn’t trust her. If I couldn’t trust my own mother, I couldn’t trust anyone, not to my way of thinking. So I withdrew a great deal into myself.
At the age of eight I started writing regularly on my front porch, it’s a habit I never broke. If I live somewhere with a front porch, it’s my favorite journaling area. Writing was a means of escape from a continually decreasing and unhealthy family life. My mother was physically and emotionally abusive. Though I do not doubt that she had very little control over it due to her deteriorating mental health, that means nothing to a child. I felt trapped. The many years that I lived with her were very hard and they shaped my life into something unpleasant.
When I was eight my mother’s second husband died from cancer. The night he died, she and I had almost the exact same dream that he came into our rooms and said goodbye. I was horribly guilt ridden and in silence about it, because I hated him and I wished him dead. So of course I believed it was my fault and I never told anyone that until I was well into my twenties. In hindsight my mother was the first to remarry and I villianized him because of it. He was a kind man and didn’t deserve the way I treated him, so that was another mind fuck I bared alone, from lack of anyone I trusted. The morning after his death my mother and I were talking about our dreams of him. At that point I also brought up the fact that I have seen the dead before because I used to play with my sister, who looked exactly like me. She went extremely pale and proceeded to tell me that I had been a twin, but they didn’t want to tell me for fear of it influencing me in a negative way.
I was weird. I stuck my nose in a book and rarely came out for anything except choir. I read Stephen King when other little girls were reading Harlequin Romances, I listened to punk and alternative music when bubble gum pop was all the rave with the girls. At the age of eleven my oldest brother escaped to college, my other brother started dating his lifetime wife and found religion. He stayed away as much as possible. In fact I felt completely abandoned by both of them. After they both left for college I was alone with my mother for six years in that house. My madness was her madness, it was a hell I don’t talk about and have a lot of lost time for that period of my life. In high school I was punk and weird, they were izod wearing snobtastic future republicans. Through out all these years my sight came and went, I had some very powerful experiences that convinced me I was either mad, like my mother, or there were a lot of things in the Universe that I didn’t understand. I read everything I could about the paranormal, spirituality and witchcraft, these are passions that I still study to this day, thirty plus years later. At fourteen I dedicated myself to the Wicca path under the light of the full moon and it felt completely natural to me. I am pure Celt in my ancestry down to my red hair and blue eyes. I was drawn to study the Celtic traditions and adorned myself in Celtic jewelry and clothes. The Goddess Brigid was the main deity that I affiliated with. There had been failed attempts at raising me as an Episcopalian, but Christianity never made sense to me and it still doesn’t. The best thing that ever came from Church for me was meeting my life long friend in Sunday school.
I know you’re sitting there thinking that this is supposed to be about Mr. Nobody and I haven’t mentioned him in several paragraphs. My relationship with him is extremely personal and tied into all of this.
In my early 20’s I was a shining and healthy person, obviously flourishing from living on my own and no longer weighed down by my oppressive and sick mother. I went to visit my oldest brother once and I was looking through his books. At the age of seven I was introduced to the world of D&D and my love for it never went away. The book I was looking through was an extension of a table top game. When I sat down, the book fell open immediately to a page with a picture of skeleton with a top hat and tails on. It was Mr. Nobody, he was my ‘Drop Dead Fred’ friend and my heart sort of rose into my throat. I even said to my brother, “Look, it’s Mr. Nobody.’
I have vividly detailed memories of what he looked like when I was a child, how he was animated like any other living creature is solidified in my memory like something out of a CGI film today. He was never imaginary to me. I still felt a loss at having been separated from him. When I looked at the picture more closely, the description beneath the picture said, Baron Samedi. If you were a two year old and someone told you his name was Baron Samedi, don’t you think Nobody sounds incredibly similar? Well I did. I was extremely perplexed by it all and began to do research. Research is my first stop whenever I want to learn about anything. The strangest thing of all to me was that Samedi is a Loa of the Voodoun faith, a faith that I had never felt any connection to personally. So how was this entity attached to me and why? I invited him back into my life and asked him to help me discover the answers I was so curiously looking for.
Over the next few months, several very important things happened. My mother gave me a box a pictures and keep sakes that she had saved for me. In it was a copy of my baptism, the script and everything. I was baptized Catholic on November 1st, 1970. There are a few very peculiar things about this fact. I was raised Episcopalian, not Catholic. For some there may not be much of a difference, but from my fathers very Irish Catholic side of the family, there was a HUGE difference. The other strange thing about it all was that Baron Samedi’s holy day is November 1st, AND, get this, he was, is, the protector of children and the Voodoo Loa of the Dead. The Voodoo religion was, is, a mish mosh of spiritual African practices and Catholicism. Apparently I was baptized Catholic to appease my grandmother who was a devout Irish Catholic to her dieing day.
Whenever I was with Mr. Nobody as a child, my sister was always there. I’ve always had ‘the sight,’ just like my mother. The difference between a psychic and a psychotic being the ability to shield yourself from the other worldly. I was beginning to believe it was because of these two or that they, at least, had something to do with it. He is the protector of children and the dead? He protected me and my sister and I believe he still does.
The next miraculous clue was so profound, I still remember it in vivid detail. My oldest brother and I went to visit our brother and his family near Chicago. While there we went to the Natural History Museum. As my oldest brother and I walked up the steps there was a huge banner proclaiming the traveling exhibit about the History of Voodoo was there for a limited time and we just looked at each other in disbelief, and yes, at this point, he was aware of what was happening with the Baron and myself. Needless to say I B-Lined it to the exhibit and was ready to devour every bit of knowledge I could about it. When I came to the case about the Baron I read everything, scoured all the artifacts with my eyes and just as I was about to move on I noticed in tiny print at the bottom, the Barons consort/wife is said to be the Saint Brigit who was originally modeled after the Goddess Brigid to convert the heathens of the countryside to Catholicism. The Goddess Brigid, if you remember, is the Goddess I felt most affiliated to and often prayed to, danced to, made altars to, etc. I stood there in stunned silence for a long time. I still have never felt very connected to the path of Voodoo, but the Baron and I are inexplicably linked.
This all brought the Baron and I back together, not that he ever left, but I had stopped seeing him for those many years do to my mothers child psychology crap. I have worked with and honored him in many ways since these discoveries. He is intricately linked to my sister and myself as we are to one another. There were too many things that linked us, too many instances to ignore. I can’t explain it all, but it’s strangely comforting to know that the Loa of the Dead has got my back. As we near his day, I can feel him, I can feel the Veil growing thin and my ancestors wanting to come for a visit. To me it is comforting and far from scary. Though, I must say, I feel that he has and will protect me until my death and most likely beyond, so, messing with me or my family, probably not a good idea. I can hear him laughing as I write these words. Mr. Nobody, turned out to be somebody after all.
Friday, October 25, 2013
GHOST ENCOUNTER CLASSIFICATION
WARNING: Contains Difficult Subject Matter
Paranormal Investigation has become very popular in today’s society. When the practice first began it was largely from the point of view of the skeptical community. I remember reading the Parapsychologist Handbook in the 1980's and it was very dry and scientific. I think it's best to approach actual findings from a skeptics perspective, trying to debunk possible evidence is also part our jobs. If you want to be taken seriously using the right equipment and clinical presentation are essential to presenting your evidence. The presentation is often very different from the actual experience. When you go to a location you will often find yourself in abandoned buildings, basements, ancient houses, 'lunatic asylum's,' attics, mines, ghost towns, the middle of bum fucking nowhere. You need to be aware of your own safety issues in a very mortal way. I live in an area where moose and bear do as well so being smart about wildlife is extremely important. More frightening than the dead are the living, knowing your locations and what element of humanity use a location you want to investigate is key to your own safety. Once you get past all the mortal
dangers that might befall you, it's time to try and draw the ghosts out! This process has many varying methods of trying to capture evidence. It would take someone with nerves of steel to NOT react to the things you have to do
and the ghosts you have to interact with.
You have your equipment ready, your team, you've done your research, your interviews and you have finally arrived at your location. Next you need to pick where you want to spend your time. Night time is a much
more quiet time with fewer living folks around which is why most investigations are done at night. When you're going for interaction with an intelligent spirit recreating the conditions of when they are most active can increase likelihood of capturing evidence. This means, lights off. If you're easily frightened, this is not the job for you, your evp and camera evidence will be tainted with the screams of you running away like the Ghostbusters from the library.
(WHAT NOT TO DO: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9kj2bF8dDNs)
Your observations and classifications will be important to how you present your evidence. I have several classifications that I use. RESIDUAL ENERGY: This form of energy is an imprint to the location you're investigation.
Locations where violent deaths and horrible abuse or torture occurred very often hold the echoes of the past. These echoes can be held in the building material like wood or stone, just as humans have 'muscle memory,' buildings
can hold negative energy like an imprint. At a molecular level atoms are filled with vast regions of empty space. We exchange energy with everything we touch and are near at this microscopic level. The fury of violence echoes through the victims, the families, the criminals, why not the earthen ground or stone? When these sort of echoes are recorded, there is no intelligent interaction between the investigator and the energy captured on paranormal investigation equipment. Energy such as long term patterns can be captured as well, it doesn't have to be anything unpleasant. It could be someone did the same thing every morning for forty years and you're catching the residual energy from their daily routine. Houses, battlefields, hospitals hold memories,
just as we do.
INTELLIGENT SPIRIT classification. Benevolent Spirits are well meaning. Many times they may be family that has passed too soon or that may just be staying to watch over their loved ones. When I was a girl we inherited my grandmothers cat when she passed on. The night after the cat had passed away, I was laying in bed crying and clear as day I heard him meow right next to my bed. Another experience I had was the night my step-father died, my
mother and I had the exact same dream of him coming to visit us and say goodbye before he moved on. I found these experiences comforting and from reports that I've seen and read many others with similar stories have too. While life after death tends to be a belief, even with paranormal evidence, I believe that we have a choice when we pass to move on quickly or remain earthbound.
There is also the belief that when a soul violently leaves this world they are trapped until the perpetrator has been brought to justice. I happen to disagree with that assessment due to an extremely personal life experience.
2002 was the worst year of my life and I attempted to take my own life. I did actually die for several minutes, but returned. I learned many many things from this experience, but these are the experiences that are related to my
conclusion about this particular type of haunting. When I started to fade I remember leaving my body and being extremely happy about it. What remained was something out of a nightmare that I only learned about through others after many days and years. When they brought me into the emergency room, I was told, it took 6 men to restrain me. At the time before the restraints were applied one of the orderlies lost control of my arm and I was on top of him, beating him as hard as I possibly could. I truly have no memory of this to this day. (I did get to apologize to guy later and he was alright) Five days after I attempted suicide is when I can begin to recollect being aware of my surroundings. At that time, I referred to it as when I actually
came back to my body.
There's a concept in Shamanism, called 'Soul Loss' that says when you experience a trauma in your life, you loose apart of yourself. It can be anything from a auto accident, the loss of a loved one, abuse, rape or even an over exuberant sneeze. The piece of your soul that fractions off from you is the part that experienced the trauma. This also helps explain how we block out memories of extreme trauma and abuse. It's my believe that people that loose
too many pieces of their soul will show the absence of one. Such as people like Jeffrey Dhamer, Charles Manson, and Aileen Wuornos, these are examples that I believe are very apparent just from looking at their eyes in photographs.
Shamanism states that in order to be a whole person, you need to retrieve the pieces of yourself that you lost.
When I made the attempt to end my life, it's my understanding that what remained behind was the fury and ultimate despair that led me to take such an action. The majority of my spirit that was ready to leave did so. My
recollections of the time I was away from my body are happy ones. The actions of my body and spirit left behind was all the ugliness that I didn't feel able to deal with at the time, all the trauma from the events leading up to the actual attempt stayed behind as I tried to move on from it. My essence didn't return for five days. This is what I believe is left behind by spirits that actually do die, which can sometimes be residual spirits, but are often violent malevolent spirits. It's why we can pick up on screams of the actual events where known murders or suicides have taken place. The victims often separate from the events, leading to soul loss, letting the part of themselves that was benevolent and beautiful move on. Unless they decide to stay, as I believe many do for a multiple of reasons such as to comfort family and let them know they're ok to stalking their killer in an attempt to seek justice. The part that experienced the
violence that stays behind may only be fury, anger, sadness. It doesn't mean that persons spirit is any of those things as a whole, but only what they were in the terrible moment that took their life. A fictional example that may help some wrap their head around the concept is the film, 'The Grudge.' The ghost left behind is a vindictive and vengeful entity and I see it as only the lost part of the woman that was abused and eventually murdered. As with most fictional representations it is widely exaggerated, but a good example none the less. Lost soul parts can be retrieved with the help of a trained Shaman. Shamanic practices may originate as early as the Paleolithic, predating all organized religions, and certainly as early as the Neolithic period.
The worst kind of ghosts are malevolent spirits. Often these are the spirit's of the most violent men and woman in our histories. They are either trapped or afraid to move on for fear of after life repercussions. If you died believing you're going to Hell, you might stick around too. Another for of this type of haunting spirit may never have been human at all. Just as many believe in protective and benevolent creatures that watch over them, the equal and opposite may also exist in many forms. Obviously I believe it, so when
observing and classifying certain things my terminology would reflect it.
Some paranormal investigators use provocation as a technique to obtaining evidence. The best example being 'Ghost Adventures', I love these guys to pieces, AND they have had to deal with backlash in their personal lives
from using this particular method themselves. Using provocation is not an activity for beginners and novices. There are consequences that you have to face for poking at the evil shit, if you don't know what you're doing, you're
young, inexperienced or any combination thereof just don't do it. Of course when I was all of those things I would have scoffed and done it anyway, so I know you're out there you little hooligans. You think you're invincible because
you're young, if you HAVE to be stupid try and least to be aware of you and your teams personal safety on all levels.
Having a paranormal experience for some might be thrilling, but really, in the moment, it's often frightening. Fear and carelessness can get you killed and the last thing you want when you go ghost hunting, is to become one
yourself out of sheer stupidity. Preparation and proper research will help you to be aware of the site's dangers. If it's possible to have someone that knows the building or the area you are in walk you through during the day it's extremely advisable to do so. If you can't find anyone, at least do a day walk through before venturing into the location before dark. In fact having everything set up before sundown will help you stay out of harmful situation.
When you encounter something that frightens out you may have little control over how you react, that's the fight or flight response to get your ass to safety. Knowing your location will keep accident's from happening, so be smart about it. If you have camera's set up, just keep telling yourself not to freak out and run off like a little baby man because the whole world may have the pleasure of
seeing it over and over and over and you will never live it down. But than, it is fairly amusing to watch!
__________________________________________________
This video made by ABC re: suicide prevention: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_1SbBw-JcQ4
Paranormal Investigation has become very popular in today’s society. When the practice first began it was largely from the point of view of the skeptical community. I remember reading the Parapsychologist Handbook in the 1980's and it was very dry and scientific. I think it's best to approach actual findings from a skeptics perspective, trying to debunk possible evidence is also part our jobs. If you want to be taken seriously using the right equipment and clinical presentation are essential to presenting your evidence. The presentation is often very different from the actual experience. When you go to a location you will often find yourself in abandoned buildings, basements, ancient houses, 'lunatic asylum's,' attics, mines, ghost towns, the middle of bum fucking nowhere. You need to be aware of your own safety issues in a very mortal way. I live in an area where moose and bear do as well so being smart about wildlife is extremely important. More frightening than the dead are the living, knowing your locations and what element of humanity use a location you want to investigate is key to your own safety. Once you get past all the mortal
dangers that might befall you, it's time to try and draw the ghosts out! This process has many varying methods of trying to capture evidence. It would take someone with nerves of steel to NOT react to the things you have to do
and the ghosts you have to interact with.
You have your equipment ready, your team, you've done your research, your interviews and you have finally arrived at your location. Next you need to pick where you want to spend your time. Night time is a much
more quiet time with fewer living folks around which is why most investigations are done at night. When you're going for interaction with an intelligent spirit recreating the conditions of when they are most active can increase likelihood of capturing evidence. This means, lights off. If you're easily frightened, this is not the job for you, your evp and camera evidence will be tainted with the screams of you running away like the Ghostbusters from the library.
(WHAT NOT TO DO: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9kj2bF8dDNs)
Your observations and classifications will be important to how you present your evidence. I have several classifications that I use. RESIDUAL ENERGY: This form of energy is an imprint to the location you're investigation.
Locations where violent deaths and horrible abuse or torture occurred very often hold the echoes of the past. These echoes can be held in the building material like wood or stone, just as humans have 'muscle memory,' buildings
can hold negative energy like an imprint. At a molecular level atoms are filled with vast regions of empty space. We exchange energy with everything we touch and are near at this microscopic level. The fury of violence echoes through the victims, the families, the criminals, why not the earthen ground or stone? When these sort of echoes are recorded, there is no intelligent interaction between the investigator and the energy captured on paranormal investigation equipment. Energy such as long term patterns can be captured as well, it doesn't have to be anything unpleasant. It could be someone did the same thing every morning for forty years and you're catching the residual energy from their daily routine. Houses, battlefields, hospitals hold memories,
just as we do.
INTELLIGENT SPIRIT classification. Benevolent Spirits are well meaning. Many times they may be family that has passed too soon or that may just be staying to watch over their loved ones. When I was a girl we inherited my grandmothers cat when she passed on. The night after the cat had passed away, I was laying in bed crying and clear as day I heard him meow right next to my bed. Another experience I had was the night my step-father died, my
mother and I had the exact same dream of him coming to visit us and say goodbye before he moved on. I found these experiences comforting and from reports that I've seen and read many others with similar stories have too. While life after death tends to be a belief, even with paranormal evidence, I believe that we have a choice when we pass to move on quickly or remain earthbound.
There is also the belief that when a soul violently leaves this world they are trapped until the perpetrator has been brought to justice. I happen to disagree with that assessment due to an extremely personal life experience.
2002 was the worst year of my life and I attempted to take my own life. I did actually die for several minutes, but returned. I learned many many things from this experience, but these are the experiences that are related to my
conclusion about this particular type of haunting. When I started to fade I remember leaving my body and being extremely happy about it. What remained was something out of a nightmare that I only learned about through others after many days and years. When they brought me into the emergency room, I was told, it took 6 men to restrain me. At the time before the restraints were applied one of the orderlies lost control of my arm and I was on top of him, beating him as hard as I possibly could. I truly have no memory of this to this day. (I did get to apologize to guy later and he was alright) Five days after I attempted suicide is when I can begin to recollect being aware of my surroundings. At that time, I referred to it as when I actually
came back to my body.
There's a concept in Shamanism, called 'Soul Loss' that says when you experience a trauma in your life, you loose apart of yourself. It can be anything from a auto accident, the loss of a loved one, abuse, rape or even an over exuberant sneeze. The piece of your soul that fractions off from you is the part that experienced the trauma. This also helps explain how we block out memories of extreme trauma and abuse. It's my believe that people that loose
too many pieces of their soul will show the absence of one. Such as people like Jeffrey Dhamer, Charles Manson, and Aileen Wuornos, these are examples that I believe are very apparent just from looking at their eyes in photographs.
Shamanism states that in order to be a whole person, you need to retrieve the pieces of yourself that you lost.
When I made the attempt to end my life, it's my understanding that what remained behind was the fury and ultimate despair that led me to take such an action. The majority of my spirit that was ready to leave did so. My
recollections of the time I was away from my body are happy ones. The actions of my body and spirit left behind was all the ugliness that I didn't feel able to deal with at the time, all the trauma from the events leading up to the actual attempt stayed behind as I tried to move on from it. My essence didn't return for five days. This is what I believe is left behind by spirits that actually do die, which can sometimes be residual spirits, but are often violent malevolent spirits. It's why we can pick up on screams of the actual events where known murders or suicides have taken place. The victims often separate from the events, leading to soul loss, letting the part of themselves that was benevolent and beautiful move on. Unless they decide to stay, as I believe many do for a multiple of reasons such as to comfort family and let them know they're ok to stalking their killer in an attempt to seek justice. The part that experienced the
violence that stays behind may only be fury, anger, sadness. It doesn't mean that persons spirit is any of those things as a whole, but only what they were in the terrible moment that took their life. A fictional example that may help some wrap their head around the concept is the film, 'The Grudge.' The ghost left behind is a vindictive and vengeful entity and I see it as only the lost part of the woman that was abused and eventually murdered. As with most fictional representations it is widely exaggerated, but a good example none the less. Lost soul parts can be retrieved with the help of a trained Shaman. Shamanic practices may originate as early as the Paleolithic, predating all organized religions, and certainly as early as the Neolithic period.
The worst kind of ghosts are malevolent spirits. Often these are the spirit's of the most violent men and woman in our histories. They are either trapped or afraid to move on for fear of after life repercussions. If you died believing you're going to Hell, you might stick around too. Another for of this type of haunting spirit may never have been human at all. Just as many believe in protective and benevolent creatures that watch over them, the equal and opposite may also exist in many forms. Obviously I believe it, so when
observing and classifying certain things my terminology would reflect it.
Some paranormal investigators use provocation as a technique to obtaining evidence. The best example being 'Ghost Adventures', I love these guys to pieces, AND they have had to deal with backlash in their personal lives
from using this particular method themselves. Using provocation is not an activity for beginners and novices. There are consequences that you have to face for poking at the evil shit, if you don't know what you're doing, you're
young, inexperienced or any combination thereof just don't do it. Of course when I was all of those things I would have scoffed and done it anyway, so I know you're out there you little hooligans. You think you're invincible because
you're young, if you HAVE to be stupid try and least to be aware of you and your teams personal safety on all levels.
Having a paranormal experience for some might be thrilling, but really, in the moment, it's often frightening. Fear and carelessness can get you killed and the last thing you want when you go ghost hunting, is to become one
yourself out of sheer stupidity. Preparation and proper research will help you to be aware of the site's dangers. If it's possible to have someone that knows the building or the area you are in walk you through during the day it's extremely advisable to do so. If you can't find anyone, at least do a day walk through before venturing into the location before dark. In fact having everything set up before sundown will help you stay out of harmful situation.
When you encounter something that frightens out you may have little control over how you react, that's the fight or flight response to get your ass to safety. Knowing your location will keep accident's from happening, so be smart about it. If you have camera's set up, just keep telling yourself not to freak out and run off like a little baby man because the whole world may have the pleasure of
seeing it over and over and over and you will never live it down. But than, it is fairly amusing to watch!
__________________________________________________
This video made by ABC re: suicide prevention: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_1SbBw-JcQ4
Hanna McLean
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