The Forgotten Magic

Part Two

Seeing the soul of things

Art by Louise Cox

I had a somewhat paradoxical childhood. Most of the time I did not feel like a child, I knew I was older than my years but in a childs body. If you then speak to the adults most of which I am aware are younger than me, as yourself, they do not like it. So I learnt to act like a child, I don’t think I was very good at this. I decided to keep quiet instead. I quickly learnt that some things you especially keep quiet about.

My mother once asked me what I was looking at one night while sat on the sofa. I was bored with what they were watching on the TV and had become distracted by the coloured orbs dancing about the window.

“I’m watching the coloured lights by the window” I replied “look how beautiful they are”.

“There’s nothing there” she snapped looking at me like I have two heads.

“Maybe we should take you to have your eyes corrected if your seeing things” she warned me.

I wanted to protest and was horrified that my vision could be corrected so I would not be be able to see these things but a voice in my head said keep quiet, I shut up and promised myself to keep quiet in the future.

Art by Louise Cox

I would often unfocus my eyes to see what cannot be seen. I’d practice on inanimate objects. The clock on the mantelpiece was a favourite. It had a rotating pendulum with three balls underneath. The trick is to be in a trance state before you start staring. This was a lot easier as a child as my mind was a lot less cluttered as it is today. Once calm look at your chosen object but don’t focus in on it, take in the whole scene, keeping your attention on the object. Eventually your vision will shift, I feel this in my ears as well, they buzz a little or feel like the pop you get when there is a pressure change. I liked using the clock as it’s moving pendulum gave colourful tracers as they moved plus it was just a clock, it had no energy attached to it so made a good practice object. If I used the same technique on my favourite toys they would be more animated, being imbued with energy from the personality I had given them.

Some things do not like to be seen.

I was staring out of the window of my Nanna’s flat one day. I had a strange fascination with one of the windows in a large house opposite my Nanna’s. Nanna lived on the thirteenth floor of a block of flats. There was a large expanse of grass outside with a big oak tree in the middle and a few smaller trees dotted about. On the other side of this open space was a large manor house. When left alone in the livingroom I would look out of this window, I always had an intense feeling that someone was watching me from one particular window in the manor house. It was so far away you couldn’t see if there was or not, but I had a weird sense like when you feel someones magic and it’s challenging you, ‘I see you I know what you are’.

Back then everything was more feeling and emotion than words and in my mind I knew in the room that window belonged to, there was a little boy. He was trying to get my attention because he knew we were the same so I understood. He was asking for help. But I’m just a little girl on the thirteenth floor of a block of flats looking out of the window back at someone I can’t even see! Is he really there?

This always made me feel really sad. I wanted to go up to the house and ask if there was someone in that room and I could I speak to them and help, obviously this was not possible.

On one particular day as I stared intently towards the window in the manor house, the large oak tree was caught in my gaze. It’s aura started to shimmer, the whole tree shone with a magenta hue so bright, I took my eyes off the window and marvelled at the beautiful glow of the oak tree pulsating with energy. I could see its very essence, it’s soul. The second my full attention was on the tree, it sent a shock wave so strong I felt like I’d been physically pushed backwards. It hit my solar plexus breaking my trance instantly.

Art by Louise Cox

I knew the tree was not happy to be seen and I’d been put in my place. It certainly gave me a greater respect of trees and an awareness that like people some like to be left alone.

Over the last couple of months I’ve been experimenting with ‘unseeing’, I call it ‘unseeing’ because you have to tell your brain to forget it knows what everything is and cultivate a sense that you are trying to see something else. So far I managed to regain the same sense of sight looking at an ornament in my room and I also still have one of my childhood toys which again had more movement than other inanimate objects.

I was a little more apprehensive about try this on any trees. However I plucked up the courage and tried the technique on the palm tree in my garden. It seems friendly enough. This took longer to engage than the inanimate objects I had used. Eventually I managed to get focused, by this point I felt as if I was floating and my sight goes in and out, like you are looking through a camera and zooming in and out, my sight was closer then further away. Then the palm tree was not just a palm tree put a yellow and blue entity with many heads and eyes. I made it clear that I meant no harm and it seemed ok with letting me observe for a while. Then I said thank you for letting me see you and returned to normal sight, although I could still see some of the eyes for a few days every time I looked at the palm tree, this has now faded, unless I consciously look for them.

Image by Louise Cox

As a result of these experiments my hynogogic images have become a lot more vivid especially before sleeping.

As for the boy in the window. I did ask my Nanna about the house and if you could go visit. She told me it was a borstal for boys where all the naughty boys went and that you cannot visit as it’s all locked up.

Whether there was someone in that room looking out the window or not I will never know for certain but this is one memory that has stayed with me throughout my life.

Years later I learnt to use the same technique the oak tree had used on me to defend myself from unwanted attention but that’s another story.

About the Author

Posted by

Add a Response

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: