Pulling up to Jennifer’s house, Sandra and I gather ourselves and our belongings, ensuring we have everything we need to be prepared for the night to come. I am still slightly anxious about what we will do tonight. I have done hundreds of tables and helped thousands of souls, but I have become so close to Monica, I fear failing. I am terrified of doing anything that might bring any more pain than they have already experienced.
After running through a short checklist of essentials, we climb from the car. The air outside is still warm. It is early in the evening, and the temperature is perfect. Taking a moment, I attempt to blend myself with the night. Fall is coming. I can feel it. I love this time of year. Taking a deep breath of the coming season, I finally decide there is no time like the present, and I knock on Jennifer’s side of the duplex.
Entering the house, I pause to get my bearings and sense any dangers that might be present. I have spoken with Monica several times regarding Amber’s home and how it is the place where she passed. I can feel the presence of it just beyond the wall of the room where I stand now, but I don’t fully relate to the energy there yet. I don’t know the details of her passing, but Monica has told me how many family members cannot bring themselves to go down the stairs, and some cannot even enter her home. So, I have an idea of where this tragic event likely occurred.
After only minutes inside, Sandra and I decide to smudge the space before proceeding with the table. We work our way through Jennifer’s side of the duplex first. Her home is relatively peaceful, and I don’t sense any tension or ill will. So, I expect the night will continue to move in an effortless flow, and I am grateful for the journey.
Smoke from our smudge sticks billows and quickly fills each room with medicine. It enters the corners and saturates the dark places around and under the furniture. There is no place the smoke does not reach. It finds the spaces that our minds and our eyes do not. It fills the crevices where our hands cannot. It leaves nothing behind, and in this way, it heals. It changes the air and the energy, and it brings peace to space where there is pain.
Our energy lifts as we continue our cleansing of each of the rooms in Jennifer’s home, and then, we move next door to where Amber’s family still lives. Her husband and two small children are not home presently, but they have left the space open so that we may do work here. As I enter the home, the feeling of love is saturating. The living room is warm and inviting and welcomes us with pictures of Amber and the greatest of her love, her family. While this room does not cry out for healing, I offer a blessing of peace. I smudge and invite healing to this home, expressing my most profound compassion to this place and those who still live here.
Every other room on this level is similar in feeling, and I am comforted by the idea of this kind of love in the world. There is no negativity here, and it is refreshing. I send prayers, along with smudge as I did in Jennifer’s home. I pray to comfort the children, hoping they will always know their mother here.
After finishing with the bedrooms, I move into the kitchen, smiling while I pray. Working my way through these homes, I am excited to move forward with our communication. Never have I known a place of so much love. The night is moving with the kind of peace one can only pray exists. I pray for the same kind of loving and compassionate energy at the table tonight.
As I finish in the kitchen, I move to the top of the stairs leading to the basement. The smile on my face vanishes. Just as suddenly as being consumed by love in the living room, my hackles rise. As I step beyond the threshold of the kitchen, there is a door leading to the backyard. I sense negativity beyond the door, but it is not strong here, not yet. Still, I stop for some time, and I smudge heavily.
When my prayers are complete at the door, I turn around to face the stairs. Everything human within me begs me not to move forward, but I am here to heal. So, I ignore the warnings and continue to the basement. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, I am immediately consumed by the emptiness here. This space does not feel ‘lived in’ the way it does upstairs. There are no walls to block my view, and I can see nearly everything in the basement from where I stand at the foot of the stairs. The space is not large. I can probably only walk 20 paces in any direction. There is ‘stuff’ all around, mostly toys, but even though there are ‘things,’ it feels empty and abandoned, like no one has lived in it for years, if ever. The feeling here reminds me of what it is like walking into a brand new home, where memories are still waiting to be made. It is not foreboding or longing in any way. The place is simply void of any emotion.
Stepping away from the stairs, I stop to stand in the center of the basement. I wonder if the family ever spent any time down here. I just can’t get over how vacant it feels, but it is almost like I can also sense something else behind the feeling. Just beyond the vast echo of emptiness, there is another sensation. It is a quiet anxiousness. It’s as if I am waiting for something to happen that never will. I could beg for it to happen. I could forever wish it would happen, and still, I would know in the end, I will always leave disappointed, and the potential of the space will never fully realize itself.
As I look around the room, I wait for clarity on what I will use to heal this place. Nothing comes. The room is as void of a signal as it is of feeling. I am not sure which direction I should move, and I am amazed by how such a strong sense at the top of the stairs can completely vanish without a trace of residual energy to track at the bottom. Where is the emotion I expected to find in this basement?
Frustrated, I ask for Spirit’s guidance and get an immediate response to turn to my left. I follow the call and continue past the stairwell wall, smudging as I move. There are a washer and dryer against the wall, but there is no connection drawing me to them. I turn just left of the appliances instead to the doorway that leads to the nook under the stairs.
As I step from the light of the room into the dark of the alcove, the density of the air suddenly changes. My hair stands on end, and I feel the familiar twitch of my shoulders, telling me there is danger. I think I found my monster. I sense him like a rabid dog cornered and pacing. I watch as he turns with heavy teeth bared, and I can almost see him drop back on his haunches, ready to leap. I must fight the urge to run, calling for the protection of my guides. I know I must take advantage of the opportunity I have before me. He is cornered here, and I know I may not have the chance to corner him again. I can’t leave this thing behind, not knowing there is still a family living just above me.