The Oud

This story comes to me from my dear friend, Daniel.  Once he went to a small family run oriental carpet store to purchase a small rug for his new apartment.  Being the affable person he is, he started a conservation with the Turkish shopkeeper and his son.  As the conservation progressed, Daniel looked around and saw an old oud sitting on a shelf and asked about it.  Now, Daniel is one of those people who can pick up just about any stringed instrument and immediately “know” how to play it.  He has an instinct.  The owner turned to his son and grinned, then turned to Daniel and asked him if he wanted to buy it.  Daniel purchased it on the spot for an amount he will not admit to me.

 Photo Credit: Academy of Ancient Music, UK (http://www.aam.co.uk)

He took the oud home and over the next month cleaned it up, re-stringed it, and played and played it.  One day he made a cup of tea, set it down  on the table next to the oud, and wondered into another room to look out the window waiting for his tea to cool.  He began to hear lute music.  The music was so beautiful it brought tears to his eyes.  Standing there spellbound, Daniel stayed in front of the window until, eventually, the music faded.  That is when he realised he had purchased a haunted artefact – a haunted lute.   He was able to reproduce the music, finding that the conditions must be exact or the oud would not "perform": you must place hot tea in front of it and leave the room.  Later that year he happened to be walking by the oriental carpet store he had purchased the oud and stepped in.  The owner and his son instantly recognised him.  Daniel remarked, “That oud you sold me; that is a pretty amazing instrument”.  The owner simply replied, “Yes it is.  It belonged to my Dede (my grandfather).  He bought it from an old peddler in a pazar (a weekly open air market) in Turkey.  He also found out how special it is.  He would be glad you know it has a new home with you.”

Illustration 3: Turkish Tea. Image by friend Soydan Ustunergil, used by permission.

Mezzotints and Ambrotypes

As a practising Jewish mystic, I frequently contemplate how common objects can become “imprinted” with spiritual “strength”. Recall my post of bimahot, for example. The great Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz wisely summed up an underlying concept in Jewish mysticism in this manner: “The observed universe around us is only a part of an inconceivably vast system of worlds”. Most of these worlds being spiritual; they occupy the same place as the physical universe we perceive, but we cannot normally sense them.” Rabbi Aryeh Kaplin further observed that, according to Jewish mysticism, that “these worlds are highly coupled, that is, what actions you do in this physical world is reflected in many other worlds.” Moreover, with the Divine spirit, the Nefesh, which has been gifted to all of us, one may observe, and even effect, these otherwise undetectable dimensions in a conscious, purposeful manner.

An example of such a purposeful manner is the posing and subsequent capturing of a person by photographic means. Think of this process as “recording” a person's physical image, but owing to the raw nature of the photochemical process that ambrotypes and mezzotints employ, a person's Nefesh is also recorded or reflected in one or more of the highly coupled spiritual worlds. By means of the practise of Ma'aseh Markavah, with which the mystic seeks to perceive these spiritual worlds connected with the convolution of photochemistry and the subject's spiritual essence, such an image can be recalled.

In conclusion, concious, concentrated, and purposeful direction of spiritual activity is one of the ways a “haunted” artefact may be created.

These ambrotypes and mezzotints come from my small, but select, collection. Unlike paper photographs (including cabinet cards), ambrotypes and mezzotints seem to be able to capture the spirit of the subject better - literally. The blind Japanese man is my favourite. He has a strong presence – even what was imprinted on this ambrotype. Stop in for a visit or attend one of my workshops and I will show you what I mean! 

Photos by the author

 

Spirit Possession of Spirits of the Sages

According to Jewish tradition we all are, upon birth, gifted a Divinely-derived spirit. There are five aspects to this spirit, listed in order of most immaterial to most physical. They are: the Yehidah, the Chiya, the Neshemah, the Ru'ah, and the Nefesh.  When you die, four of the five aspects quickly return to the pool of Divine spirit, but the Nefesh lingers, “leaking” out of the body over a period of 24 hours, transitioning from a spirit of the living to a spirit of the dead.  Once liberated from the body the Nefesh becomes a purely spiritual entity. The Nefesh may journey to Sheol, meeting place of the recently dead, if the messengers find it free of unresolved transgression, that is, a tzaddik - a pure and righteous person, one who has rectified all transgression.

A Maggid (plural maggidim) is a departed tzaddik and usually a sage. The Rabbi Moshe Cordovero, writing in the third quarter of the 16th century, stated in his Drishot be-Inyane ha-Malakhim (Inquiries Concerning Angels) the “the types of ibbur (cling) depends on a person's moral and spiritual state, whether his Nefesh may cling to a maggid spirit if righteous".   Rabbi Hayyim Vital (1542-1620) in his book Shar'are Kedushah, expounds: “Seclude yourself in an isolated place, wrap yourself in a prayer shawl, sit and close your eyes, divesting yourself of the material world as if your Nefesh had left your body and were ascending. Following this abstraction, recite whatever single Mishnah that you wish, many times in uninterrupted succession. Cling to the Nefesh of the sage.... He will speak with your mouth and your will hear with your ears the wisdom of the words.” 

In summary, the Jewish literature contains accounts of spirit possession exercised between the great sage and prophets and tzaddiks spanning continuously over 3000 years.  It was not a theoretical practice, rather one regularly used to give the opportunity of spirits of the dead an opportunity to impart wisdom. 

Spirit Detector Dowsing Rods

I realise this is all about haunted artefacts, and I assure you, that even though I created my Spirit Detector Dowsing Rods, they do fit into this category.

 Photo by author

The L-Rod Dowsing Rods, as pictured above, have two compartments that may be loaded with anything. For instance, it you were looking for gold, to place some gold in the chamber. Or water, or oil, whatever you are looking for, you place a sample in the compartment.

Hans Holzer, American paranormal researcher, believed in “life after death and the existence of ghosts, spirits, and 'stay behinds'”. Ghosts were, according to him, imprints left in the environment which could be "picked up" by sensitive people. Spirits were intelligent beings who could interact with the living, while "stay behinds" were those who found themselves earth-bound after death.”

I work under the assumption that if a person is not sensitive in such a way as Mr. Holzer is, that, perhaps, there are ways to compensate. Thus, the “invention” of Spirit Detector Dowsing Rods.

Last November (2016), I lead a ghost walk around a famous and well-documented haunted site. I wanted the walkers to have a great experience (and I realised that they might not have the “sensitivity”). My wife and I drove out to the site extra early. Early enough to make a short detour. A detour to Multnomah County Pioneer Cemetery...

Photo by author

There we found a very recent excavation with a pile of loose dirt (see the far right of the above picture) and we grabbed a handful of dirt, shown in the pictures above, in the small plastic bag. Working under the assumption that if we fill the chambers of the dowsing rods with graveyard dirt, it will help the walkers find a spirit of the dead. I had two of the ghost walkers scoop in a bit of the graveyard dirt into the two chambers. Instant ghost detector!

The Horseless Carriage Tail Lamp

I found this horseless carriage kerosene tail lamp when I was about 10 years old. It was my first haunted artefact and I still am proud to have found it. Near where I lived as a boy, there was this informal dump which included, among other things, an old hand crank wringer washing “machine”, parts of a broken gas stove, several sets of springs from a horse drawn carriage, the twisted frame of the model T, and many lumps of unidentifiable rusted metal. One summer whilst admiring the junk, a green glint caught my eye; something I had never seen before had emerged from the dirt and sand. It was this horseless carriage kerosene tail lamp.

I am not sure if I was drawn to it, or it was drawn to me, but when I first caught the green glint from the green lens, I knew it was something very, very special. As I grew up, I tried to mentally understand this strange attraction, and without realising, began to develop my mystic insights well beyond my age. Years later, my wife and I were cleaning out some old boxes we have never unpacked from our last move (which had been over ten years ago!), when she turned to me, holding up the lamp, and said, “What is this? It is really cool! There is something really interesting about it.” That evening after dinner, I pulled out the lamp and showed her the green glint. Thereafter she understood why I had kept it all these years.

To this day I am still uncertain about the nature of this strong attraction to, what most people would consider, a bit of junk. When you see the green glint, you too will agree it is not junk, but just as I, you may not understand why.

 

Photo by author