A Consensus of One By Marco M. Pardi

A Consensus of One
By Marco M. Pardi

Phenomenological analysis of “social groups” must conclude that the concept of human social groups, if extended beyond the purely physical, is an illusion built upon a delusion. An illusion has an external referent, and the observer knows it. We pay to see the illusionist “saw the woman in half” knowing that she is not actually being sawn in half. A delusion is the combination of an external and an internal referent, and the observer does not know it. As we approach a group of talking people, they fall silent and resume talking and laughing after we pass by. The external referent is the behavior of the people; the internal referent is the assumption, within the observing self, that the behavior of the people is somehow connected to his presence. Synchronicity is assumed to be causal, not random.

The same ease of assumption is found in human communication. The psycho-linguist Noam Chomsky developed a framework known as Transformational Grammar. It posits a binary system of Deep Structure (feelings and meaning domains) and Surface Structure (the culturally provided lexicon and grammar). As Tor Norretranders explained in The User Illusion, when I experience a feeling it is filtered through a culturally erected structure, including the linguistic matrix described by Edward Sapir and Benjamin Lee Whorf in their Sapir-Whorf hypothesis of linguistic relativity (“the proposition that language plays a fundamental role in shaping the way members of a society think and behave” Haviland), and it calls for quantification and qualification in my (Chomsky’s) Deep Structure; I get a “gut feeling.”  I then search my Surface Structure for the culturally provided “words” and the culturally approved order into which to put them. I convey these words, through the cultural medium of language and syntax, orally or in written form. The person who hears these noises, or sees these marks on a page interprets them as an ordered code, to be “understood” by transformation from their (the person’s) Surface Structure to their Deep Structure.  They might then say something like, “I know what you mean.”

Thus, I do not “share my feelings” with someone, as the commonly used social slogan goes. I attempt to encompass my feelings within a meaning domain in my Deep Structure, transform them into a language code in my Surface Structure, and pass them from my Surface Structure to another person. I have not shared feelings; I have passed a code. Since the listener can take in only the code (into his Surface Structure), and the various paralinguistic qualifiers I might add, the listener has not absorbed my feelings; he has heard the uttered code. Any good “Con Man” has mastered the art of arranging all the code components of credibility.

Herein lies the crux of the shared illusion/delusion. How can someone know what I mean? Indeed, how do I know what I mean? In structuring an utterance to be conveyed, I must first assume that I have completely and accurately circumscribed my feeling within the appropriate meaning domain (semantics) and have organized it appropriately (grammar and syntax); I’m saying what I mean, how I mean it. Second, I am reading the behavior of the other person (let’s say the listener) and decoding the responsive utterance of that listener, through my Surface Structure, to my Deep Structure to get a feeling of having succeeded at communication.  The potential for error, based upon casual assumption, is inherent in each and any of these steps to an enormous degree. Yet, an attempt to truly and deeply analyze this interpersonal transaction (if it can be graced with such a label) is often met with, “You’re just arguing semantics.” Well, yes, partly.

The ultimate outcome of any such analysis must be the conclusion that social behavior is, to the unusually aware participant, an illusion that is shared for some purpose which is not explicitly stated in the interaction. The dimly aware might put it, “To get along, you have to go along.” This is also hinted at in our enculturation dictums such as, ”At a party, never talk about religion or politics.”  Why not?  Why should we not go into a church and nudge each congregant with the demand that each answer aloud to the question, “Who is God?” After all, are they not all there under the presumably homogenous title of their denomination, their social group?

Children acquiring language and building their lexicons often engage in a game in which they repeat a word quickly until, at some point, it seems to lose its meaning. As a society, did we not do this recently with the words “hero” and “patriotic?” This reminds one of the joke about long term prisoners who had heard each others jokes so often they numbered them and simply laughed when a number was called aloud.

Social group interactions are a kaleidoscopic babble of illusion and delusion metered through enculturated linguistic codes, and embedded within appropriate extra-linguistic indicators such as “proper” attire and garnished with paralinguistic behaviors such as grunts, sighs, modulations of volume and pitch and approved gestures.  The conveyance and sharing of actual and complete meaning is a purpose which is secondary to the larger, and equally undefined purpose: Being there, sharing in some unquestioned sense of solidarity.

Perhaps the most meaningful question that one might ask of another at the conclusion of a social interaction is, “Was it good for you?” There being no way to objectify the event, any answer will be correct.

But, you know what I mean.

Mea Maxima Culpa by Marco M. Pardi

Mea Maxima Culpa
by Marco M. Pardi

In analyzing the many hundreds of Near Death Experience reports, particularly those with no veridical evidence such as verifiable knowledge gained which could not have been gained otherwise, one quickly recognizes a problem: Beyond the currently acknowledged possibility that a priori exposure to the commonly accepted sequence of NDE events may have set the stage for the individual’s drama, there is the deeper problem of discovering and analyzing intrusive cultural themes, mores, and folkways. Included in these culturally transmitted elements would be themes interpreted by some as identifiably religious in nature; there is a given here that, particularly among “People of the Book” (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam) there are themes which exist apart from the holder. That is, they may be referenced in a preserved body such as a book or an art form even in the absence of any believers of these themes. To the extent that Hinduism and Buddhism may be classed as moralistic philosophies (by scholars) and religions (by some common believers), the literature and art forms of these may also be included.

If one accepts a Near Death Experience report, whatever its manifest form, as something other than or beyond the mere electro-chemical degeneration of the organic brain then one is, de facto, accepting the presumption that the mind has, independent of the brain, moved to a different domain, changed to a different dimension, or in the vernacular of the “New Age”, changed to a different frequency (frequency and dimension are entangled in quantum mechanics).

Yet, the person returning from this experience usually has a narrative which is inherently troubling, no matter how glorious the content might be. First, the individual is typically able to say “I” when describing the person to whom the experience occurred. That is, self concept, albeit with the frequently reported enhanced sensory and conceptual awareness, remained intact and, in cases of claimed self history examination (“life review”), actually became broader and deeper while even more intensely focused on “I”.

The problem of “I”, in this context, may be approached in several ways. The Mystic, especially a Buddhist mystic, would say I is a habit, perhaps even an addiction. It is a return to, or a clinging to a sense of predictable internal stability and continuous identity through external changes over time; a “stable and predictable personality”, which, according to mystics and to information theorists is utterly illusionary. The defender of the I, however, would counter with the assertion that someone must be doing the returning or the clinging, someone must “have” the addiction. And, they must have it in a continuously stable form over time or there would be no chronic coherence to what others would perceive as a recognizable person. Mental health practitioners would classify this person as suffering from Korsakov’s psychosis (syndrome); immediate and cyclic amnesia unaccompanied by dementia.

Interestingly, this last point raises the question of the degree to which the ongoing I is a social contract. Perhaps I remain stable over time because my social surroundings are stable and I conform myself to them. They, in turn, remain stable because I, as part of their affective social environment, remain stable to them. Researchers in various fields have long noted that the I is the first casualty of solitary confinement, sometimes permanently so as even the internal constructions we have made of “other people”, those people with whom we converse “in our head” fade undeniably into the mirror which reflects only us. Remove the external, social matrix and the construction called I disintegrates.

No matter how dramatic the death, with the possible exception of being vaporized in a nuclear explosion, death is a process; it is not an on – off proposition. The common narrative of the Near Death Experience suggests that, as this dying process unfolds, the social/personal matrix continues, albeit in modified form. Here then is the crux of the problem. If the mind has separated from the functions of the brain, as would be suggested by those cases wherein monitored brain function is demonstrably terminated, what carries the social/personal matrix into the reported other state – the domain, dimension, or frequency in which the NDE is being experienced? How can a “person” be a self coherent and self knowing entity while existing in the proposed other form? Even more troubling, to what extent does the particular enculturation of the person remain intact, and for how long?

Perhaps a clue may be found in one of the most common claims by people who report near death experiences: “It was simply beyond any words I could use to describe it.” It was ineffable. Unfazed, however, by their own pronouncements, many people have gone on to attempt a descriptive narrative anyway.

It is probably fair to say that most people have had little exposure to the fields of psycho-linguistics and information theory. Nonetheless, they are enculturated into a matrix of Self and Other definition and distinction; in order to be any-thing, one must be some-thing. Being some-thing is exclusionary of being other-things. Included in this process is the enrollment into a social contract we call language. And, watching for responsive cues from our social environments, we learn over time to fine tune and adjust our usage of this contract device in order to communicate. As Noam Chomsky can show us, whether we did actually communicate is highly debatable. But, it generally seems so to us on an everyday basis.

The acquisition of language is, subtly, the acquisition of culturally agreed upon meaning domains; we learn to circumscribe the Gestalt of experience into discreetly manageable packets provided by our cultural lexicon, our cultural vocabulary. Whether I actually know what something is is generally unimportant so long as I can get by with just calling it a “thing”. The same general convenience often applies when quantifying and/or qualifying other packets, such as “good”, “evil”, “love”, “beautiful”, “shameful”, ad infinitum. People traffic in this contract on a “You know” basis. Know what I mean?

But while this process of culturally guided circumscription allows us to exchange information packets on a superficial level, it also leads us into the temptation of thinking that the packets are inherently real; it seduces us into the illusory “real world” of this versus that, now versus then, and here versus there. Examples of the actually delusional level of this phenomenon appear in the usage of such terms as “afterlife”, particularly when coupled in a linear juncture with an “eternal soul” which presumably takes the baton toward the ever receding horizon. Eternity, most would agree, is endless. Since a beginning is an end seen backwards, there must have been no beginning to something which is endless. Since a linear construct has length, albeit out of sight at both “ends”, it must have width in order to distinguish its length. Yet, width – as is so with depth, has limits; it has ends. Eternity being endless, can have no length, width, or depth. Nor, obviously, can our fourth dimension – Time, be applied to eternity. Time, too, is an illusion. As Albert Einstein said, “Time is Nature’s way of keeping everything from happening at once.”

How is it, then, that the “I” in the NDE narrative stands distinctly before the “them” – deceased relatives, or “wise” figures in culturally appropriate robes, or the Being of Light, and on and on?  If being immortal is being unconstrained by dimensionality, then how is the experiencer standing over here while the others are standing over there, albeit without a sense of time passing?

Another problem inherent in many, but not all near death experience narratives is the claim that one realized the effects of one’s actions on others during life, felt the joys and pains of those others (including non-human animals and, presumably plants), and felt guilt and remorse while being brought to a realization that was too late in coming.

If there is still a coherently organized entity recognizable as Isaac Newton, this entity must be flapping its robes and pitching apples high into the ethereal trees (pay back time). The concept of cause and effect is manifestly the heart of Newton’s “Clockwork Universe”.  Shades of Poe’s The Tell-Tale Heart, Peter Pan’s chronometrically challenged crocodile, and Sesame Street’s The Count.

For the past 90 years the world of quantum mechanics has shown us that Newtonian mechanics are appropriate only on a gross, macro level. We now know, on an academic level, that the solid chair we sit in while reading this is not really solid at all; the sub-atomic particles of which it is composed are further apart, relative to their size, than the stars in the visible universe. But wait, there’s more.

We now understand, if understanding is the appropriate concept, that what we have thought of as ultimately irreducible particles are not really small “things”. If anything, they appear to be states. Furthermore, exhaustive experimentation continues to show that certain “particles”, separated from one another at variously extreme distances (the width of your finger would be staggeringly far in the world of these particles) instantaneously match their states to each other at speeds faster than the speed of light when the charge of one is changed. Einstein referred to this, rather morosely, as “spooky action at a distance.”

The salient point here is that we, on our macro level, see “cause and effect” as separated in being, separated in place, and separated in time because we are living in a communal, macro dream; we are dreaming that the dimensions we are physically constructing as we inhabit them are actually and exclusively real. We are indeed “pulling ourselves up by our own bootstraps”, or building our prison from within, unmindful of the Every Dimensional Oneness of which each of us is part and each of us is all. Localizing the cause for anything into the macro-globule that can be identified as me is an act of stupendous arrogance. It is, in fact, exactly what could be expected from the entrapment/development we call enculturation. Being raised from a shitting, slobbering bundle of cells on the floor to a cooperating participant in the social contract means buying into the collective dream. The success of that collective dream depends on me buying into the rules for that collective dream. And it is the rules of that dream that are somehow being carried forward into the new or different form of existence described in the near death narratives.

Another identifiably cultural element which is being carried forward is the desire for the retention of ego, the desire to keep on being singularly and identifiably me. Throughout the recorded history of many cultures, particularly in the West, there has been a plethora of hero figures who, through the nature of their lives and deaths, have archetypically provided Mankind – or the selected people, with the assurance of eternal life. Jesus was among the latest and best known.

In fact, misunderstanding of the nature of “Nirvana” (Sanskrit: nir – beyond, vana -wind) as a state of complete ego loss is the most cited Western objection to Eastern philosophies. Western “cherry pickers”, like “cafeteria Catholics”, pick out those Eastern elements that they mistakenly find most appealing. Among these is the idea of personal reincarnation. While the Bardo Thodol, “The Tibetan Book of the Dead” is a sequenced guide to the rejection of transitional stages in which entrapment could mean reincarnation, Westerners are often thrilled at the prospect, flocking to “therapists” who claim to be able to uncover their “past lives” with the implication that there are more to come.

What is being totally missed by these self lovers is the message that the personal ego is a restrictive shell; once having seen through the shell the individual ego becomes EGO, the Allness. No loss of ego is involved. Instead, the personal ego is seen in its natural state; a manifestation but still a part of EGO. It is greater, not lost.

Thus, we could say that the overwhelming Western interest in near death experiences is largely a culturally driven desire for reassurance that the ego remains distinctly intact among other distinctly intact egos. The suggestion, as Mystics the world over have said – often at their peril, that the experiences reported by “returnees” were only preliminary, culturally burdened orientations to a much more expansive reality does not sit well with people who love themselves too much.

The Efficacy of “Paranormal” Investigations

by Marco M. Pardi

Can investigations into Near Death Experiences and related “paranormal” phenomena be considered science? Perhaps, as is so common, the answer is in the question. As Isaac Asimov reportedly said, “The most exciting sound in science is not ‘Eureka’ (I have found it), but ‘That’s funny’”.

Aside from a 23 year career in the premier American medical research institution, the U.S. Federal Centers for Disease Control & Prevention (CDC), I have spent 10 years in full time and 8 years in part time university and college teaching of Anthropology. Anthropology is much more than the two dimensional cataloging of who is where; it is also the three dimensional examination of how people think and feel.

Since 1973 my specialization in Anthropology has been in the cross-cultural field of Death & Dying. And, with each semester’s wave of new Anthropology students I find that exhaustive examination of certain basics must occur before any progress may be made. These basics include the nature of science and the process of thinking.

A. Science is misunderstood by the public.

1. Research is just what it says  -  re-search. Science moves forward by doing original searches, sparked by experiences and ideas which are the foundations of Hypotheses. Research is only the re-examination of what has been found before, laying part of the foundation for a hypothesis, but not the evidence for new conclusions.

2. Science teachers teach finalized results; they do not concentrate on the processes that developed those results.

B. Science advances by organized collection of evidence.

1. Evidence is not always obvious and demonstrable; it must be understood as often (a.) “circumstantial” and (b.) “inferential”.

a. Unless a person admits to a crime and provides information only the perpetrator would know, or was seen by a credible eye witness,  all evidence presented – even in murder cases, is circumstantial.  The jury is asked to weigh the circumstances, not the “facts”, and see where they lead. In a rape case, the prosecutor points to the circumstances of the presence of the defendant’s semen and injuries on the victim as evidence of forcible rape; the defense points to the very same evidence as proof of as proof of consensual rough sex. Juries might arrive at “truth”, or they may not.

b. Although we can demonstrate evolution in other life forms, and can identify overwhelming fossil and genetic evidence for human evolution, we cannot “prove” human evolution since we cannot put it into a laboratory and do it all over again. We must infer, based on the evidence.

C. Our capacity for critical thinking, and therefore our ability to examine the thinking of others, is grounded in a thorough knowledge and understanding of the nature of thinking. The presumption that others are thinking in the same manner as we are is the heart of many communications failures. A common error, for example, on the part of eager young rational thinkers is the effort to engage “religious” thinkers (non-rational) in debate; the result is most often “talking past each other”. There are three fundamental categories of thinking:

1. Rational. More than just orderly, rational thinking is accountable at any point through demonstrable and presentable “facts” which may be externally examined for relevance, logic and veracity.

2. Non-rational. More properly considered different from rational rather than inferior to rational, non-rational thinking may proceed in a rationally orderly fashion, but it ultimately rests upon an unaccountable initial premise. For conversation to proceed, the participants must a priori agree at least to the conditional validity of the initial premise even if with the understanding that it may never be proven or demonstrated.

3. Irrational. Quite apart from the previous two, irrational thinking is disordered, unaccountable, and often considered evidence of psycho-pathology.

D. What are NDEs?

1. “Near Death Experience” is misleading because it is far too confining. There are several recognized phenomena associated with Death & Dying, and they do vary by culture:

a. OBE – Out of Body Experience, in which a person bi-locates, or is able to accurately view and describe events going on around his or her body from a usually elevated perspective.

b. SDE – Sympathetic Death Experience, in which a person is able to accurately pinpoint the death of another at a distance, and sometimes “accompany” the other in the transition.

c. PDE – Pre-Death Experience, in which a person experiences and reports a “preview” of his/her dying experience, sometimes being in contact with pre-deceased individuals they did not know had died.

d. ADC – After Death Communication – in which a person receives audio, tactile, and/or visual information, often new information, apparently from a deceased significant other.

e. NDE – Near Death Experience, in which a person in medical crisis experiences an OBE, a sense of movement and arrival, a sense of being in another form of existence, and a return. These usually include radically clear perception of self and surroundings, visual and non-auditory communication with others, and tactile sensations.

E. Doesn’t all this just arise as a function of brain chemistry?

1. All related studies clearly demonstrate that the use of sedation in surgery severely reduces, if not eliminates the chances of an NDE.

2. While perceptions similar to NDEs occur under manipulation of brain chemistry, such events as anoxia (deprivation of oxygen) reduce mental function – the opposite of NDE.

3. Manipulation of brain chemistry cannot account for new information obtained by the near death experiencer.

4. While a few reductionist materialists ascribe all mental function to brain states, brain states are only operating conditions and they do not explain the content of ideation.

5. Ideation as a mere function of brain chemistry is moot under circumstances of demonstrable cessation of brain function.

F. Isn’t all this just a way of pushing belief in a God?

1. There is no logical connection between a belief in a God and an understanding of NDE associated phenomena. For example:

a. There may be a God; There may be an “afterlife”.

b. There may be a God; There may be no “afterlife”.

c. There may be no God; There may be no “afterlife”.

d. There may be no God; There may be an “afterlife”.

2. All of the above statements are equally logical. For example, a non-corporeal existence does not automatically necessitate the existence of a non-corporeal “Chief Spirit”.

3. Many people fall into the epistemological convenience of posing All or None choices between propositions a. and c. Yet, this is only half of the logical and possible paradigm; b. and d. are equally possible.

G.  How should a scientist structure an investigative protocol for the paranormal?

1. Beginning with a recognition of the limits of the Experimental Method, wherein a step-by-step protocol is carefully recorded, the notes and results gathered, and the process repeated by independent peers, the scientist must consider “one off” forms proofs.

2. Since, in theory if not also in practice, a scientist is essentially plunging his hands behind an opaque curtain (the realm beyond conventional senses) he must understand that certain steps are not necessarily replicable.

3. A “one off” form of proof includes valid information obtained by means which are unaccountable other than through the purported paranormal event. For example, many hundreds of recorded cases of “death bed visions” proceed as follows: “Mrs X sat up in bed and began excitedly talking to an upper corner of the room, where no one could be seen. She was apparently happy to see and talk with Jack. But then she displayed surprise and spoke to Henry.”

a. We may easily identify Jack as her pre-deceased husband and dismiss this as wishful fantasy, even a form of psychic self protection from the fear of imminent death.

b. However, on deeper analysis we find that Henry is Mrs X’s brother. Mrs X, a five year nursing home resident, has rarely been visited by family and has not been told that her brother Henry died several weeks before.

c. Obviously, we cannot have Mrs X repeat the event for the cameras and the “lab coats”.

H.  Does science ever structure a faulty protocol, thereby pre-determining its own results?

1. Certainly. At this writing, a network of U.S. hospitals is engaged in a study of “out of body” reports during surgery. Following on the large numbers of patients who claim to have left their bodies and witnessed the operative procedures done on them, surgical teams at these cooperating hospitals have installed devices such as lap top computers atop cabinets in operating rooms with key words displayed on the monitors. The premise is that a disembodied individual will float up there and see and remember the displayed word. Revived patients who are unable to provide the word will not be deemed credible in their out of body witness accounts, no matter the fullness or accuracy of their reports if they cannot provide the key word.

2. The fundamental flaw in this protocol is the complete dismissal of focus. We know that “consciousness” is a matter of focus. The reader is, presumably, focused on this page, not on the elastic in their underwear (now you are). I am often home alone, cooking for myself. Should a home invader break into my kitchen, knife in hand, my focus will be on the invader and what he is doing with the knife; it will not be on whether the oven alarm is blinking. In the same way, a disembodied patient will be focused on the behaviors of the operating team, what they say, and what they do with the instruments in their hands; it will not be on items on top of cabinets.

In conclusion, then, what is called “paranormal” is, in reality, part of the normal, and can be studied as such. The problem lies not in the subject of study; the problem lies in the presuppositions of the examiner and how that examiner may take for granted or dismiss certain realities. For example, the reader is probably sitting on a chair. The chair is presumed to be a solid; it is holding us up, after all. But even first year physics students know that the hardest solid, when seen under an appropriate microscope, is almost entirely empty space peppered with the particles of the substance we see at the macro level. In fact, per unit of size and in relation to each other, the particles in the hardest substance are further apart from each other than are the stars in the visible universe. It takes only a minor shift in perception to bring this reality back to us, and most of us just say, “Uh huh” and keep on sitting; we do not worry about falling through the chair – or falling through the planet.

Clarity in thinking brings clarity in results. And, to modify an old bit of wisdom, clarity begins at home.

My Experience in the Psychomanteum

by Steve Trask

According to Wikipedia, a psychomanteum  “ …often called “mirror gazing”) is a mirrored room, specially set up to communicate with the spiritual realm.  Reflective objects or surfaces, such as blood or water, were considered a conduit to the spiritual world in ancient times. Sometimes described as an “apparition booth” the psychomanteum dates back to ancient Greece, where a person would gaze into a still pool of water. This silent and steady gazing into a reflective pool would produce apparitions or visions.  The room is set up to optimize psychological effects such as trance. Its key features are low light or near-darkness, flickering light, and a mirror. The dimness represents a form of visual sensory deprivation, a condition helpful to trance induction.”

Years ago I read Raymond Moody’s book called “Reunions.” In this book, the famous near death experience researcher talked about his experiments with psychomanteums, and how some people were actually able to use these to communicate with the dead using certain techniques.  Years later, Jamie Butler  proudly showed me her new psychomanteum setup atop a stairway in her office.  I jumped at the chance to try this! On a Tuesday evening I stopped by and decided to spend an hour in the darkened room. I was open to anything that might happen. Here’s my experience.

When I arrived to try out the psychomanteum,  Jamie noted that seven of my spirit guides had arrived about 90 minutes prior and were waiting to watch and assist my experience.  I excitedly entered the darkened booth, we placed a fan inside for white noise, and a small light behind my chair to allow me to see slightly in the darkness. I sat in the chair, took some deep breaths, looked up at the mirror (which I really couldn’t see- it was so dark!), and waited.

In the back of my mind, I expected to see faces, or even my mother or other recently passed relatives.  I don’t think it’s a good idea to have preconceived notions for these types of things. Anyhow, the first things I experienced were blobs or orange/white colors, which quickly moved from the top to the bottom of my vision, and sometimes from right to left. This was exciting, but lasted only for a few minutes. After that, I stared into the blurry darkness.  It reminded me of meditating – where my mind would wander, and I would see a lot of moving fuzziness in front of me. After about 15-20 minutes of this I noticed my eyes were tiring from staring ahead and I was blinking a lot. Shortly after that, I started to lose focus, my eyes would occasionally roll back and I would nearly fall asleep. Something told me to stay awake or I would miss the visual experiences  from dreaming the whole time. It was difficult to stay awake, especially with the white noise (which is optional).

When I was able to stay alert and focused, I sometimes noticed small movements of sparkling light. Brief, and fleeting, but they were there. Were my eyes just playing tricks on me? Probably about 30-40 minutes in, I started seeing some white clouds that would drift slowly and dissolve. Then, just the blurry blackness  returned to view.  Ok, I thought. I have seven helpers here – let me see something! Let me hear something!  At one point in a trance like daze, half awake and half alert, I had a vision of my mother in a garden, looking young and happy. Mom passed away two years ago and I’ve really missed her. It was a nice feeling to see that, however briefly.

I waited further and something strange happened, something unexpected. I felt a warming in my chest area. It was if a beam of energy was shooting right into my heart chakra, opening it up, and healing me. I’ve been very much trapped in work lately and have been emotionally blocked – serious and analytical. Was this my spirit guide team trying to open me up emotionally? This lasted for about 10 min, then the feeling was gone. I thanked whoever was helping there. Then, the alarm I had set to go off in one hour started to go off. Disappointed, I moved the light around so I could actually see the mirror in front of me a little better, and remained for 20 more minutes, determined to see something in the mirror. All I could see was that under-water like blurry/foggy vision.

When I left the psychomanteum, I felt somewhat disappointed, as my ego was anticipating some kind of paranormal experience. I got in the car and started to drive away, and surprisingly, I started crying. I don’t usually cry, in fact, I rarely cry! My chest area felt warm and tight, as if someone had given me a massage in that area. Emotions poured out of me and I felt open, sensitive and aware. I hadn’t felt this way in a long time. As I’m sitting here writing this tonight, I’m still feeling the after effects of my experience. I feel emotionally drained, but in a good way.

This was a good lesson. I shouldn’t try to force experiences, or have preconceived notions about what should or would happen. Instead of speaking with spirits, I was able to have some emotional/heart healing that was very healing, especially after I left the psychomanteum!  I would imagine that each experience in there would be different each time, and different for every person.

Thank you Jamie, for this very cool experience!
Steve Trask

A Ghostly Tour of Julianton

by Angus McLeod

The following article about a ghost hunt Jamie participated in appeared in the Darien News in Darien, GA.

Are you familiar with Julianton Plantation? This expansive acreage at Harris Neck was originally the home of one of the first successful planters of sea island cotton, Francis Levett. Named for his mother, Juliana, Julianton has over 1,500 acres of high ground and an equal amount in marsh, a fabled holding with abundant low country grace and centuries old charm.

In recent years, Julianton passed from the Stebbins family to a private owner, and then to a development group. With a soft real estate market and an economic recession, plans for development stalled time and again. A previous owner, Gene Slivka, moved three historic homes to the site, adding to the mystique and romantic appeal of Julianton. Rumor has it that these houses are haunted.

How I came to write this story

I never ate a meal at Hunter’s Café or took my boat out at Shellman Bluff without looking across the river at Julianton Plantation and wondering what it would be like to explore that mysterious area.

Previously, I worked as a realtor at Eagle Neck and Delta Plantation in North McIntosh County. During that time, I met a past owner of Julianton Plantation, Gene Slivka, hoping for an invitation to his property that never came.

I had seen pictures of the historic Thorpe house being barged from the east side of Harris Neck at Spring Cove down to Julianton. (This is the large home you see from the river as you boat from Shellman Bluff out to Sapelo Sound.) I heard stories of the owner living in the Thorpe house without electricity and of elaborate parties held under the adjacent oaks. Party guests were allowed to walk on the porch and peer in the windows but could not enter, adding to the home’s aura of mystery. These stories piqued my interest about Julianton and the secrets it held.

In 2008, I learned Julianton Plantation was purchased by a big company which planned to build a championship golf course, a twelve-story hotel and a high-end residential golf community.

Fast forward to January 2009 when I sat in a restaurant in Richmond Hill one evening with a dozen other people. We had just finished a ghost tour of Jim Williams’ home in Richmond Hill (Williams authored Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil). One of the ladies at the table was telling about visiting the Coldbrook Plantation in Chatham County a few years ago and looking for the plantation house recently only to find out it had been moved. (This reputedly haunted house was featured on the cover of Savannah Spectres, a book on haunted homes of Savannah written in 1984 by Margaret Wayt Debolt.)

As the lady told the ghost stories of the Coldbrook house, my son called. He was at Julianton in Harris Neck. The caretaker wanted me to do a ghost hunt at the Coldbrook house, which now resided at Julianton. Scarcely believing my luck, I jumped at the chance. The next day I made arrangements to view the Coldbrook house and the rest of the plantation for the purpose of having a ghost hunt.

My ghost hunt idea was to get a dozen or so folks together with an interest in psychic phenomena and visit a home or building suspected of being haunted. Each guest is armed with a digital camera in hopes of capturing a ghostly image or light orb in a photo. Psychics add to the fun by interpreting what the spirits have to say. Further, guests express their interpretation and feelings during the ghost hunt.

My first Julianton visit

On a cold January afternoon, I arrived at Julianton Plantation. The electronic gate, usually locked up tight, was wide open. I felt like a kid in a candy store as I drove to a midpoint on the property where the caretaker’s office was located. Just beyond the gate, I noticed a modest home on the right. This was the caretaker’s cottage recently built to look as though it was constructed in the 1800s. Flanked by stately oaks, it had a dirt drive and no established landscaping.

Continuing on, I traveled down a dirt track through the forest. I could see into the woods lining the road for a 150 yards or so because the underbrush had been cleared. Large oaks and hickory trees dominated. My feeling was that I stepped back in time, maybe late 1700s or early 1800s. This feeling stayed with me throughout my visit.

After meeting the caretaker, we drove toward the south end of the island. We came to a high brick wall with a white wooden gate. I was told this was originally a formal garden complete with a green house. When the plantation was last sold, Slivka removed the plants. Weeds and high grass were the only vegetation in this once thriving garden. This could have very well been a garden in the 1800s, but the formal architecture seemed more suited to England than Georgia.

We drove three or so miles from the north gate to the south end. Julianton is a haven for wildlife like the graceful osprey, the red-tailed hawk and the covey of wild quail that we flushed. I also saw deer, feral hogs, turkey and armadillo.

The first home we came to was the Thorpe house. This wonderful plantation home was built between 1790 and 1810, replete with spacious rooms and high ceilings. I was cautioned not to take my guests out on the story porch since it was in disrepair. The same with the two outbuildings. One had been used by the previous owner as a kitchen and the other was his library. The porch off the kitchen had nearly fallen off, and the steps were dangerous going into the library. In spite of this, all three buildings had been and still are grand structures.

Credit: Debbi Zepp

Traveling behind the Thorpe house we passed a garage and then on to the Coldbrook house. I knew it at once, from the picture on the front of Savannah Spectres. From my research, the Coldbrook home was built in the 1700s and is possibly one of the finest examples of an 18th century southern plantation home still standing in America. I entered the home but the caretaker didn’t follow. Curious, I asked him why. He admitted being afraid, saying he felt spirits watched him from the windows. With a little prodding, he joined me for a quick inspection. We saw no spirits.

What was a little strange was the room on the right downstairs side was very cold, the hallway was warm, and there were warm and cold spots as you walked the halls and stairwells. There are no lights or running water in the Coldbrook house. It is a comfortable home with large rooms, high ceilings, two stories, and large attic. We hurried through the Coldbrook house, feeling it would be better to explore it with a group…. not that I was scared, you understand!

As we drove away, I looked back and in the upstairs window it seemed someone or something was watching us. But that could not be so because I had just left that room and there was no one in the house

On the southwest part of the island is a brick barn with the stables opening to the outside. It is a strange looking barn; one story and no breezeway. Perhaps it was a duplicate of something built for a nobleman? Although I did not go inside, I could tell this was not a traditional south Georgia working barn.

On the west side of Julianton, we explored an extremely nice dock and dock house. The building behind the dock house contained a walk-in cooler and storage room. In recent years, the cooler stored oysters from a commercial oyster operation that Slivka ran. In the dock house, a bay boat hung from the hoist.

North of the dock house and nestled back in the woods on the west side of the property is the River house. A plaque on the front door says “River House” and a year in the late 1800s. The River house is old, less elegant than the Thorpe house, less stately than the Coldbrook house. In the back of River house is a modern kitchen. There are two bathrooms in this one-story house. The forested setting of hickory and oak adds an air of enchantment to the old home.

Julianton Plantation did not disappoint. It was as grand as I had expected it to be. Now I needed to put a ghost hunt together. I knew of a famous psychic in Atlanta who has her own television show and is extremely busy. Jamie Butler (http://www.withloveandlight.com) accepted my invitation. Psychics Sara Richardson from Statesboro and Barbara Witton from Savannah also agreed, as did sixteen other folks.

The ghost hunt at Julianton

On a Friday evening in late January, a caravan of excited folks arrived at the River house on Julianton. They unloaded sleeping gear and light snacks before loading up and heading back to the Thorpe house. Here they divided into two groups. Sara and Barbara took half the group into the Thorpe house and Jamie Butler took the other group into the Coldbrook house.

It was well after dark when Sara and Barbara’s group reached the Thorpe house. They sat in a circle on the floor. Sara described the spirits in the house and talked about things that had occurred in and around the house.

Credit: Debbi Zepp

She described a man in a wheelchair in the outbuilding that had been used as a library. She also described a lynching that occurred in the yard beside the Thorpe house. The group experienced strange noises and lights upstairs in the house.

They heard someone walking in the next room, but when they investigated no one was there. This group snapped pictures of light orbs.

As the group I was in entered the Coldbrook house, Jamie Butler said there were many spirits in the house. We went into the right downstairs room. This is where I previously noted feeling cold, and the room the caretaker said had watchful spirits.

Jamie brought a desktop computer and a recorder in the room with us. Both instruments worked fine before we left the River house. Neither worked in the Coldbrook house. (They worked fine the next day at the River house.)

Credit: Debbi Zepp

Jamie talked about a little girl in the room being afraid of her grandfather, who was outside in the hall. Jamie said there were many more spirits in the house, spirits from many generations. The spirits were confused about being here, and they never went outside because of the Indians (spirits) in the woods around the Coldbrook house.

We asked questions of the spirits. The older spirit complained about the deteriorated condition of the house. This spirit, through the psychic, let us know he did not care for the previous owner, Gene Slivka. As we sat in a circle, Jamie Butler told each person in the circle who their guardian spirit was, and she also told people in the group things about the people that only they knew. For instance, she talked to my son about him being a boat captain in Alaska, a fact that is not widely known.

After the ghost hunt, we returned to the River house. Some spent the night. Others went on an adventure in the dark driving around the area. I doubt anyone got much sleep, including me, on this haunted estate.

Though the fate of Julianton continues to evolve, I am thankful for the opportunity to view the beautiful grounds and historic homes. The land feels unchanged, a land out of time. For now, this spirit-rich plantation remains a haven for wildlife and a storehouse of memories past, present and future.

Last Dying Words

The readings which make the most impact on others contains absolute “proof of purchase”. What I mean is, when the sitter gets to hear the perfect recantation of their family members last dying wish or words. Here are a few of those sessions I recall.

I remember several years back I was speaking to a daughter whom set up an appointment to speak to her mother that had recently passed away. The connection was clear and I was able to describe the mother, her ailments and how she was in a hospital when she died, with her bed pulled up next to the window. The daughter was moved to hear me know the details of her mother’s last days so well. Then the mother kept repeating to me, “All I wanted to do was lay down and die.” Dragging out the vowel sounds in “all” and “wanted”.

I questioned the mother if she wanted me to tell this to the daughter. “Oh yes! Tell her….aaaall I waaaanted to do was lay down and die.” Well after hearing it a few times it became a little funny to me. So I told the daughter in a lighthearted way, imitating her mother (thinking it was funnier this way). Well I ate my words in the next few moments. The daughter began to cry and tell her mother, “I know, I know, I know. I tried but those nurses kept propping you back up!”

Then I realized what the mother was saying was literal, not just some metaphor. The daughter began to tell me that her mother had a hard time eating and keeping it down, so the nurses would prop her up to help the digestion. But, all the mother wanted to do was lay flat and rest before she died. When the end came close the daughter and her sister decided to hold vigil and each would take turns staying over night making sure they would lay their mother down after the nurse left the room.

Once when it was the daughter’s turn, she had to leave to room to get something to eat. She made sure her mother was comfortable and laying flat. She felt confident enough she would not be gone long and all was well. Upon returning she found her mother had passed away, and she was sitting up. During her short leave a nurse had come in and sat up the mother stuffed the pillows behind her head, for the sake of digestion. The mother’s final wish to die lying down was not granted.