Whispers in the Air

Today something interesting happened to me. I do a lot of thrift shore shopping, and today I went to one of my fave shops to have a look. There were several people browsing about the store. I happened to start looking through a rack of clothes, when suddenly someone whispered in my ear. A distinct yet unintelligible whisper. I turned to ask the person what they had said, but found myself staring into thin air. I looked around but there was no one anywhere near me in the store. I shrugged it off and went back to shopping. For me, such things are a fairly regular occurrence, though being outside my home it is a bit unusual.

Some people might call me crazy, and that's ok. These whispers in the air have been happening to me since I was a child, along with the appearance of fleeting figures scurrying about corners or unexplained momentary bursts of light in darkened rooms. Once upon a time it terrified me. At times I was sure I was crazy. But I honestly don't believe I am. The only mental issues I've had are with panic attacks, yet I rarely if ever have felt afraid of these phantasms which seem to seek me out from time to time. I think if I have been afraid of anything, it has been accepting the fact that perhaps I can feel some of them, and that they sometimes seek me out for no other reason than this.

I've tried communicating with them, with moderate results. But really refining that ability or skill is not something I have ever really felt called to do. I often make it a point to acknowledge them in some way, and I do invite them in from time to time, provided they obey the "rules of the house." But I don't see them, outside of a fleeting glance or a whisper such as today.I don't try to converse with them in any fashion outside of feeling. For the most part, I feel like what most of them desire is simply to be recognized, and have their presence acknowledged. I offer them a place to rest and be undisturbed. I do not cleanse the place unless one gets particularly mischievous, and even then with care to direct the cleansing to that spirit in particular.

The whisper didn't scare me, in some way it was amusing. It's no surprise to me that one or two might be hanging around in a shop full of people's discarded former possessions. I smiled and left the shop, feeling I was finished there. At the next place I found a 200 dollar original painting for 15 bucks, and a four foot cinnamon broom I'd coveted for some time, still sealed in its original packaging for 2 whole dollars. This is my life. And I can't help but think that my gentle friends recognize me as I recognize them, and to me that has only enriched my life. I can't imagine a life without those whispers in the air.

In Frith
Cena