To my ghost,

BOO!

I’m not afraid of death; it’s a reality that is inevitable to us all. Maybe my indifference is because I experienced loss at a young age. Maybe because it’s happened multiple times. To me, it’s a part of life that feels almost ritualistic. A right of passage that can hit and hurt or can alleviate pain and bring peace. It’s unexpected, anticipated, raw, ruthless and real. And, it’s natural.

Its antithesis is you. A ghost, the supernatural. When it comes to the spiritual, I’m often dismissive and my beliefs waver. However, part of the reason I found you, my spooky Casper, endearing is because while I don’t lose sleep over dying, something that keeps me awake is deterioration. Losing my wit, fiery attitude, and snarky remarks that I disguise as sarcasm. I fear losing my thirst for knowledge and my ability to remember. I fear not knowing my loved ones, not being able to articulate how I feel or worse, not knowing how I feel. I fear losing my soul.

@sandervos

It’s easier to ignore you and deny your presence as irrational. However in a way, it gives me a belief, a coping mechanism, that if nothing else in this world persists, our souls do. And that’s a delusion I don’t mind clinging onto.

I’m the first person to say I don’t believe in ghost stories. Because I usually don’t. I’ve never understood people who claim to see blurred outlines of a dead person or a hologram of someone who once lived on this earth. There’s a running joke about the “octopus lady,” a ghost that my housemates’ ex apparently saw, her eight tentacles haunting him and making both of us laugh ridiculously. Because it is ridiculous.

My openness to eeriness has come as a switch. All of a sudden, my eyes adapted to the dark, and I’ve let in a light that feels unearthly, mysterious and oddly grounding. For some time, I’ve become attuned to observing a swoosh in the air that wasn’t a moth or fly, but definitely caught the corner of my gaze. A breeze that sends goosebumps up your skin even though there’s no breeze, and the weight of a presence even when I know there’s literally nothing around.

The first “encounter” I had with something that felt supernatural was scary. I checked the locks on my front doors and looked under my bed. I walked around my house because the way that the lights spontaneously switched on, after I’d certainly flicked them off, spooked me. Sending a chill down my spine, I slammed my door shut. I contemplated calling a friend–but what would I say? What could they do? Instead, I blasted some Adele to try and calm myself down. Because nothing says peace like Rolling in the Deep.

However, when I caught a glow coming from an inanimate object on my bedside table, instead of feeling haunted, I felt supported. A vibrance that felt alive, but not haunting. Yes, I felt a presence, but the flicker in the air wasn’t one to disturb me. It was one to encourage me to continue moving with the breeze. An acknowledgement that I’m good. To keep going and… glowing.

The Starry Night, Vincent van Gogh

It’s bizarre, outlandish and weird. I’ll claim the witch allegations (mysterious, sexy, magical – I’ll let you continue), but in a way, it’s made me feel a heightened comfort in the world. It’s an intangible perspective that leans into white-girl cliches of “trusting the universe”, but, as someone who has always found comfort in science and fact, I simultaneously believe that there are certain moments in life that are merely unexplainable. And yes, my flickering lights could absolutely be a circuit glitch – but I’m going to choose that it’s a sign from the heavens above. A nod that I’m on the right direction on my respective path and should keep placing myself in vibrant places. You’re a little spooky guide that decides to show yourself with encouragement. To trust that even when shit hits the fan, each pivot allows the propellers to spin even faster. Your presence, as delusional as it may be, feels like a confirmation that I’m fulfilling my soul’s purpose. Don’t get me wrong, that takes work, drive and reflection (I’m crazy, but not psychologically insane) – although, it’s nice to think that we are each here for some kind of reason. And believing that our purpose persists beyond death is how I protect myself from losing my soul.