Are you listening? The voices beyond the veil are many – pleading, guiding, advising, sometimes warning us. At times they come through very clearly, almost like an email. Other nights it’s a flash, static, or just a feeling. Sadness, fear, even anger may come through – unfinished business. The gentlest of ghosts remind us to spend these autumn days in quiet, a time to reflect on deep love that continues forever. Voices and secrets have been a big issue recently in my life.

My new book, Into Dark Corridors: A Tale of Hands, Heart and Home is about an old house that I felt compelled to restore. I was guided, prodded, then dragged into the project, bulldozed a hillside, relocated the building, reassembled it with help from a lot of friends. That house has a voice, a very clear one. When I wrote the book, my agent called key events “Connie’s little miracles.” The little miracles were beyond anything that could have been imagined or contrived. One day a contractor explained that I would need several expensive two by eights under a dining room floor that had been damaged in the move. I couldn’t even cry, took a walk instead. Felt my grandfather’s hand on my shoulder, heard him whistle. Who knew that the rafters in her old barn could replace the shattered boards?

People ask, “Do you believe in ghosts?”

Not sure what there is to believe in, they simply are. I lost a favorite uncle a few months after we found the house. An odd set of coincidences occurred in spring 1988. My cousin and I talked in detail about his “attendance” at her wedding and the nearly simultaneous landing of a new husband at my front door. Let’s just say that when Chet Hood walked in the door, Uncle Bill’s cigarette ashes were all over a cluster mess at my job, and an unsigned rental contract for a film shoot.

Ghosts. They reside in our homes, historical buildings, and in our hearts, any place where souls have existed. They also live in our memories, and the links between memory and imagination are misty at best.  But the voices, or shall I say messages, are clear. 

So, I’m not afraid of ghosts.

The dead?  Do I miss their living presence?  Of course.  We all do.

I’d love to hear about your ghosts. 

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