From the age of two, mine was a world of spirits, that my parents took some getting used to. At first they took mistook it for some kind of fantasy and tried to entertain it with story books- but only those of folklore interested me at all. My Prussian grandfather, being the clever one, knew what this meant. Thus, every time he came to stay with us, he brought me the loveliest old Prussian children's classics. Indeed he was a man after my own heart, and I still cherish them in my keeping after all these years.
Although my parents were absolute crap at family life, let alone their own domestic affairs; at least their atheistic attitudes spared me from any religious oppression of my psychic abilities. Ironically, their stalwarthy skeptism had no doubts about the paranormal, provided it didn't involve some self-proclaimed expert of the hocum. My father's parents were well known throughout the Niagara district for their own phenomenal skills. My paternal grandfather was an immigration inspector who could read people like a book. Of course he also put this to practical use in card games and checkers. I remember their livingroom was full of trophies as such. My paternal gran was typically old Welsh of Phoenician origin. Her view of causality was full of its ancient superstitions. She was an orphan of some lord's secret liaison, educated as Victorian domestic for the upper classes, particularly specialized in herbal medicine.
This was her job in the Marquis of Salisbury's household where my grandad got to know her. His father was the illegitimate son of James Gascoyne-Cecil, 2nd Marquess of Salisbury, employed on the Hatfield estate to train their racing dogs. He owned a pub just off of the estate, where he gained the name "Gentleman Jack" but was given to such drinking and gambling that my grandparents didn't see much of a future. So, they married young and emmigrated to Canada around 1899. In the Niagara district my gran prospered a great deal of acclaim for her healing and domestic skills. My father, however, being an adventurous sort, left home early and spent his teenage years in a mining camp up in northern Quebec. Growing up in some pretty remote places myself, this became second nature. The desire to pioneer on the liminal, forever exploring the unknown realms. On full moon nights my communion with the dreamspirits would be in the form of resonant humming. Indeed there are many things I knew from before the beginning, seeking to expound the limits of my young mind. Of the few children I ever associated with, they were usually those society had written off as "wild ones", mostly métis and cajuns who didn't fit in either. In the wilds we were free to explore the true essence of our being, away from the god-fearing paranoias of evangelist society.
It wasn't until I came to Germany and met heathens like myself that I was finally able to realize my own ancestral paths. Ironically, it was through a Hopi friend there, interconnectedness came to me in a profound vision of awakening at the age of 15, mind you, there never was a question of my sense of direction. This has been my path for the last 54 years because I've always sided with what comes to me naturally- namely instinct. That is the nature of my communion. In essense it requires no devices other than the multifarious integrity of my own being. Spirit magic, the channeling of will in that borderline state between causality and consciousness. Discover the continuum in your own interaction. It comes from within.
Although my parents were absolute crap at family life, let alone their own domestic affairs; at least their atheistic attitudes spared me from any religious oppression of my psychic abilities. Ironically, their stalwarthy skeptism had no doubts about the paranormal, provided it didn't involve some self-proclaimed expert of the hocum. My father's parents were well known throughout the Niagara district for their own phenomenal skills. My paternal grandfather was an immigration inspector who could read people like a book. Of course he also put this to practical use in card games and checkers. I remember their livingroom was full of trophies as such. My paternal gran was typically old Welsh of Phoenician origin. Her view of causality was full of its ancient superstitions. She was an orphan of some lord's secret liaison, educated as Victorian domestic for the upper classes, particularly specialized in herbal medicine.
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