May the source of all that is Good, all that is Worthy, and all that is Meaningful speak to me through the cards.
May I be a kind interpreter, a helpful guide, and a noble facilitator of the story.
May I use my privileged position to increase perception, to foster companionship, and to speak to truth.
May I cast the lamp of insight high enough for clear vision; high enough to chase away the shadows of doubt, fear, or resistance.
May I withhold whatever is not helpful, what is unkind, and what is reserved in judgement.
May I step out of the way and be an instrument speaking to love, to what is known, and to what Spirit wishes to make known.
May the weary feel the comfort of my care, the warmth of my affection, and the strength of my objective desire to witness their unfolding.
May I use tarot to guide and not to punish, to recommend and not condemn.
May I be a servant to the soul.
May I be a servant to the message.
Most of all ,may all who come feel safe.
So Mote it Be.
Last year I spent two glorious weeks in Britain and Scotland. I spent my days wending my way through castles both restored and crumbling, traipsing through field, hedge and moor; I expected to see some ghosties on my way through. I mean, aren't the British isles known for their ghostly activity?
As an intuitive, I can usually feel if there is some spiritual activity happening in the area around me. I think most of us can. From the inexplicable feeling of unease, to the sense of being watched in an empty room, most of us have had an odd feeling we couldn't put our finger on from time to time. But what takes a casual observer to a full on believer of spiritual activity is when those poltergeists are about, the noisy spirit that is able to make changes in our physical world that we cannot explain. You never quite believe it, until it happens to you.
I have had several of these poltergeist experiences in my past so when they happen now, my kneejerk reaction isn't to run, but to investigate. I stay in the room, I ask questions, I talk to the spirit and see if there is anything I can do or help with.
While I do that, the sweat down your sides feeling of terror can sometimes be hard to fight off and it was that feeling I was left with as I hung out in the Doll Room at the Museum of Childhood in Edinburgh, right on the Royal Mile. It was not a place I expected to have an encounter and honestly I was just curious about the toys and excited that the entrance was free!
The Museum of Childhood is 5 stories of games, hobbies, dolls, books and various toys throughout the centuries. It is a wonderful little museum and when I arrived it was fairly quiet being about an hour before closing. I started on the 5th floor and worked my way down before finding myself on the 3rd floor, the floor of Dolls. Imagine that, a whole floor of them, case after case of dolls.
The room of dolls has an instant creep vibe. It has cases upon cases of dolls from the renaissance to modern times and from every region of the globe. At first glance, you might think these are just dolls that little girls play with. But the selection also includes collectibles, fascinating mechanicals from the early 1800's, on up to modern Bernstein Bears and the like.
I decided to stay in the room despite feeling creepy and noticed that the few people who did cycle through did not stay long. They breezed in and out, probably picking up on the same creepy vibe I did. But when I encounter that feeling, I investigate.
I lingered in a certain corner because I noticed that some of the dolls were the exact same ones my Mother had. My Mother lived in Scotland in the 60's, so I do not know if it was just what was popular locally at the time, or coincidence. But I was feeling nostalgic and touched.
In that corner there was also this Shirley Temple doll. I was also reminiscing about how my Mother liked Shirley Temple and when she was a little girl, people often remarked about how she looked like her with her curly hair. I was standing in this corner for about 10 minutes reading all the info and reminiscing about my Mom when all the sudden, right before my very open, alert, sober eyes... Shirley Temple's eyes opened... okay, will you. just. look. at. that. doll?!?! Naw, girl... nope to the nope degree.
Shirley Temple had one of those eyes that, when you lay her down, her eyes close and when she sits up, her eyes open. However, her eyes were closed the entire 10 minutes or so while I was standing there. And then, all of the sudden, they popped open! I didn't move, we are not talking about some latent vibration from the floor, no one else (of course, right?) was in the room but myself. My eyes could not unsee what they saw, and I knew deep within my soul that this was no coincidence.
Now, my first instinct was to hightail it out of there. I got clammy from fright and my inner deer was like, "GTFO of there, girl!" But, I am no noob when it comes to spiritual investigations so I stayed.
I called out, "Hello. I saw you, will you come out to play?" Making a guess as to who, or what, might be there. Has to be a child, right?
I lingered a long time but I did not see anything more except feel a presence. I took my time, I pulled up a chair and more closely examined the cases in the room. One case was called, 'Dolls Around the World' and it was here that I found very interesting things...
No children's dolls were these, but powerful dolls, dark dolls, dolls that should not be kept here...
The label calls this a voodoo doll from the West Indies, and that may be true, but the paper attached to it, is in Nordic runic script, and points to a more local use. My eye was drawn to this doll first out of familiarity, but it was not, I suspect, the cause of trouble.
Now this one was interesting. A Peruvian 'painted figure' found in a child's grave. Was it a doll? Did it have some other purpose? It was not until writing this post that I googled this museum. I found several articles that claim that people have heard the sound of children crying from this very room! Alright, so I have established a history of poltergeist activity.
The stories attribute the crying to children who died but left their dolls behind, but perhaps there is more to that story than originally revealed.
A second google search reveals that these are, more correctly, Chancay (named for the people who lived on the Peruvian coast before the Incas) people and these Burial dolls have an unknown function. Child's toy, companion to the after world; we do not know, and neither does this museum. What we do know is that it was grave robbed.
But we are not hardly done, and I had not yet found the 'culprit' of the activity. This doll, a Sudanese maternity doll 'bought from witches, magicked with fertility spells is no plain effigy.
There is power in these dolls, no children's playthings are these... and while these are all certifiably alarming as to the possible origin of my disturbance... They all pale in comparison this last doll.
This doll below, I believe and felt, was the source of suffering...
Just look at the doll first and tell me you don't feel...something very dark. I know I did.
My eye went to this guy in the case and i felt electricity shoot through me
. This dark and very mysterious thing.
According to the plaque above, this is a "spirit doll' whose skirt hides the box which contains the spirit of a dead chief of the "Achewa' tribe. I say again, a trapped soul.
The moment I placed my eyes on this Chief. I understood that this was the home of disturbance. I do not know the story, the cause, the why or how it got into this museum but I know he or she doesn't belong there.
It feels so incredibly sad.
He or she belongs back with the Chewa where they may put his or her soul to rest--There is no 'achewa tribe' but there is a Chewa tribe--Even in this, the cultural ignorance is hard to miss.
It has to be one of the creepiest things (and I have had many) I have experienced. But mostly, it made me depressed.
As colonizers, many developed nations own and imprison artifacts that are not their right to have. This guy needs to go home, and there will be ongoing problems with that room and that museum until they do. Perhaps this is what I have been asked to do.
This little lady has teeth! Isn't she special? Apparently back in the 1800s they went for realism, but why are her teeth pointed?
I know you want to leave, Pumpkin, and I wish I could take you.
Usually there is a reason for poltergeist activity. Often, that reason is suffering. Find the source of suffering, and you free a soul. Next time something spooky happens to you, don't run, face it and ask, "How can I help"
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