to go...

wherever you go

go with

all your heart

the connection...

Human beings are made of body, mind and spirit.
Of these, spirit is primary,
for it connects us to the source of everything,
the eternal field of consciousness.

the manifestation...

 the

dancer's body

is simply the

luminous manifestation

of the

soul

words on my birthday...

i existed from all eternity

and behold i am here -

and i shall exist 

till the end of time

for my being has no end -

chaos within...

you must have 

chaos within you 

to give birth 

to a dancing star

enough...

i exist as i am

that is enough

with spirit...

With spirit we are all children of the cosmos;
Without it we are orphaned and adrift.

the crimson child...

 imagine your heart

as an opening

lotus

from its center

comes a crimson child

pure, virginal, innocent

speaking of ghosts - did anyone see the LMN movie about lucy keyes tonight? the thing that caught my attention was that it was based upon a true story - afterward, i couldn't resist googling the name and this article dated february 4, 2005 popped up -

The Legend of Lucy Keyes

By John Stimpson

Julie Delpy and Justin Theroux, stars of the forthcoming The Legend of Lucy Keyes movie.

The following story is true:

Robert Keyes and his family moved to Princeton, Massachusetts in 1751. They purchased a large tract of land, some 200 acres, on the southeastern slope of Wachusett Mountain.

On April 14, 1755, Keyes's daughter Lucy, who was 4 years old at the time, followed her sisters to fetch some sand from Wachusett Lake. Lucy never returned from the lake. She vanished in the woods that day never to be heard from again.

The towns-people made every effort to find the girl. Search parties combed the woods, the lake was dragged, all to no avail. Martha Keyes, Lucy's mother, was pushed to the edge of insanity by her grief over losing her daughter. Every evening she searched the woods calling her daughter's name.

Martha died in 1786. She never found Lucy.

Several years after the deaths of both Martha and Robert Keyes, a letter was found describing, in gruesome detail, the murder of little Lucy Keyes. The letter was from Tilly Littlejohn, the Keyes's hermit-like neighbor, who was furious over a property line quarrel with Keyes. To cleanse his dying soul he admitted on his deathbed that he found the girl, Lucy, in the woods and killed her by hitting her on the head with a rock. He then stuffed her body in a hollow log and waited until nightfall to return and bury her body under an uprooted tree.

Many people believe that Martha Keyes still haunts the wooded hillsides of Wachusett Mountain calling, "Lu - cy… Lu - cy.” And witnesses still experience the spirits of both Martha and Lucy Keyes to this day.

The Legend of Lucy Keyes is the subject of a full-length motion picture currently in post production starring Julie Delpy (Before Sunset, American Werewolf in Paris) and Justin Theroux (Mulholland Drive, Charlie’s Angles Full Throttle). The film was shot entirely on location on and around Wachusett Mountain in Princeton, Massachusetts -- the site of the actual haunting.

Recent email from a witness to the spirit:

Hello...

I saw the TV show, Chronicle (channel 5) and was interested in your Web site, having hiked Wachusett Mountain many times.

Once at your site, the hair stood up on the back of my neck and I got the chills. My hiking boots have spent many hours exploring the trails on that mountain. Many years ago hiking alone, I thought I heard a name being called. A breeze was blowing through the trees that day and the weather was favorable. Figuring it was just weird, I stopped and rubbed my ears. The calling went on for another 60 seconds. It sounded like the name was riding on the wind, drifting though the trees. (The general area was somewhere on the side where the visitor's center is located.) Figuring I was just hearing things, I kept hiking. It never really clicked until now.

In the near future, I'll take a trip to the cemetery where Lucy's mother is buried, for nothing more than paying my respects. That's an awful fate to be dealt in life. Horrific by any standards.

Thank you for sharing her story and best wishes on your film.
-John T.

Pictures of spirits haunting our set

Shooting is now complete, but while we were in production we evidently disrupted the spirits at the Meetinghouse Cemetery where Martha Keyes is buried. These two photographs of Julie Delpy, me (John Stimpson), and our crew show some strange phenomenon. Alex Stark and Eric Shade, two local paranormal enthusiasts took these photographs and had them analyzed by Worcester ghost expert and researcher Sean Smith. Sean drew the following intriguing conclusions:

Filming shot #1

"In the picture labled [Filming shot #1] (see above), there does appear to be ectoplasmic vapor of a spirit by the wall (between the tree and the young lady in the shawl). With this type of spirit energy it is theorized that the spirit is at rest (not moving). This picture is interesting, but I have to say that the picture labeled [Filming shot #2] (see below) is far more interesting. This picture also shows ectoplasmic vapor, but -- more fascinating -- there is also evidence of a portal. A portal being a the doorway between our dimension and the world of the spirits' dimension. If you look closely, at about 11:00 above the head of the lady with the blue hat, you will see a swirling distortion of the tree, grass and headstones. The tree branches are also distorted. By contrast, the right side of the picture is sharper. The dark line across the ground is part of the ectoplasmic pattern. It is connected in kind of a spidery pattern as part of the vapor."

Filming shot #2

There were many other unexplained weather, wind, and sounds that were blamed on Martha Keyes during the shoot. Nothing malevolent though. I think she was just letting her presence be known. It is my belief that she approved of the project, since we stayed so true to the story.

http://www.ghostvillage.com/resources/2005/resources_02042005

a vast similitude interlocks all...

A vast similitude interlocks all,
All spheres, grown, ungrown, small, large,
suns, moons, planets, comets, asteroids,
All distances, however wide,
All distances of time -
all inanimate forms,
All Souls - all living bodies,
though they be ever so different,
or in different worlds,
All gaseous, watery, vegetable, mineral processes -
the fishes, the brutes,
All men and women -
me also,
All nations, colors, barbarisms, civilizations, languages,
All identities that have existed,
or may exist,
on this globe or any globe,
All lives and deaths -
all of past, present and future,
This vast similitude spans them,
and always has spanned,
and shall forever span them,
and compactly hold them.

walt whitman/leaves of grass 12

the dream visit...

sacred

songs

echoing

d

e

e

p

into the

yesteryear

of

my

soul

waking

now

the

primal

s

c

r

e

a

m

in 1995 i went to the twin eagles pow wow in shreveport - it was the first one i had attended and my friend and i decided to go on opening day, taking along my twin granddaughters [aged 7] -

two nights before the pow wow, i had a very very vividly intense lucid dream - in my dream, which i realized to be a dream as i dreamed, i found myself in a completely pure white room - a single room with the white so bright as to be unimaginable - a pure unadulterated radiant white - in this room were several older women who were seated - no words were spoken but i knew that they were telling me that they were there to help me somehow - i can still see the cluster of them today, sitting with their long black hair the only real color in the room - they told me there was someone i needed to meet - and they were sending him to me - and through an opening in the room walked a very tall muscular man in native american regalia - he also verbalized nothing as he walked toward me - he was wearing a large plumed headband and dressed in solid white - i remember observing me from behind as i stood in the room - as he got closer to me, i awoke - and i remember watching him come closer toward me - as he got directly in front of me, i awoke -

the dream was one of those that leaves you overwhelmed with its intensity - wondering of its meaning - and feeling as if it were an actual "real" experience rather than a "dream" - i told my friend about it later that day and we laughed about it even, about the tall dark indian warrior coming to me in my dreams -

the day of the pow wow i gathered up my little granddaughters, picked up my friend and we drove to the pow wow at the shreveport fair grounds, and the huge arena in which it was being held - the crowd was enormous but we were able to get seats right on the second row from the front - perfect seats - the grand parade began with the marching out of different tribal representatives in full regalia - there were several sets of drummers chanting beating - the air was electrified - i heard nothing but the drums and the chants and the rhythm of it all - of the drums the voices the feet pounding the dirt floor - and a feeling of i don't know what came over me - a feeling of "coming home" - of having "been away" for a very very long time - a feeling of pure love - a feeling at the same time of absolute and total grief - i mean, pure unadulterated absolute "grief" - and i began to sob - i don't mean that i shed a few tears - i mean that i sobbed as if there had been a death - the sobs racked my body - they overtook my soul - my being - i was aware of people around me turning to look at me - some of them even smiled knowingly - when finally i could control the sobbing, or it stopped of its own accord, actually, i knew that something inexplicable had just happened to me but knew not what - and then, a single dancer - a kiowa - was announced - and out onto the dirt floor walked the native man who had come to me in my dream - the man in the white regalia with the beautiful headpiece - and as he danced, he danced toward me, looking at me as his feet struck the sand with each beat - i was transfixed in that moment and could do nothing but absorb the totality of those moments in time -

after several more dancers had performed, someone took my hand for me to come with them to the arena floor to join the dance - i don't remember the person - and we left out seats, my granddaughters, my friend and i, and went out onto the dirt floor where we joined hands with dancers and others and danced around the arena in unison, as one entity, to the beat the rhythm of the drums and the cries of the chants - a moment of pure beauty and love -

after the pow wow was over, we tried to find this man - this dream warrier -but unsuccessfully - he was not to be found -

but i could not lose the reality of the dream or of the elder women or of this man - and several days later i contacted someone whom i knew to be associated with the shreveport twin eagles group [but whom i'd never met] - we met for lunch the next day and i told him my dream story and the story of my reaction at the pow wow - the sobbing and the associated feelings - the grief and coming home and of peace and love - and he listened to me, his eyes never leaving my face, his long silver hair below his shoulders, with his hands out on the table toward mine - and he told me that the man in my dreams was dennis zotigh, a kiowa from oklahoma and that he, himself, had personally chosen dennis to dance at this pow wow - that dennis is a known "messenger" and that i had been chosen to receive the message this time - there was something for me to learn - a journey to be had - and then he asked me to join the twin eagles group, which i did -

i stayed a member for several years - and did contact dennis but did not receive a response - much to my dismay - however, it could be that he simply never received my email message as he tours constantly - whatever the reason, though, i have not communicated directly with him but he remains a part of my life in many ways -

as a result of this incredible experience, afterward i wrote a stream of consciousness group of words that seem to describe this dream visit - it is also posted elsewhere on one of my blogs but i place it here where it best belongs -

and so - this is my story of the women elders and the native man who came to me in my dream -

[this is the dream i mention in my earlier post "dreamjourney" where i have inserted an image symbolic of this dream]

yeats on universal subconscious

Spiritus Mundi

is Latin, meaning

spirit or soul of the world -

the spirit or soul of the universe

with which all individual souls are connected

through the 'Great Memory,'

which Yeats held to be a universal subconscious

in which the human race preserves its past memories.

It is thus a source of symbolic images for the poet.

Counterparts for the Garou include the Past Life background,

and the Umbra and its denizens.

---. "The Second Coming."

Norton Anthology of English Literature.

Eds. M. H. Abrams, et al. 6th ed. Vol. 2. New York:

Norton, 1993. 1880-81.