While I have had many experiences, some of them layered at different sites, and some seperate, only one really sticks out as my favorite experience, and most memorable.
This experience happened in late August of 2005. I was in Seattle, Washington at the time, and homeless. Some might think of being homeless as the worst thing that could happen. But for me, it was the greatest life lesson I could have enrolled in. It gave me time to explore myself and be truly free. Anyways, I am getting off topic. My favorite experience centers around a cemetary. Those of you who are knowladged in the paranormal, know that there are two types of resting grounds. Cemetaries, and Graveyards. One is at ease; a Cemetary. The other, quite the opposite; Graveyards. for the most part at least.
In Seattle Washinton, neslted back in a secluded part of the city, up by where all of the alternative lifestyle hubs are, is the grand Lake City Cemetary. The final resting place of Brandon Lee, *yes, from The Crow* and his father, Martial Arts Master Bruce Lee, as well as MANY other colorful persons from Seattles rich history. Now, in the front of this cemetary, is a very large, beautiful and extensive Asian/Japanese burial section. It is filled with Ancestorial Tablets, Mausoliums, beautiful markers and cherry blossom trees. The petals from the trees cover the grounds like a pink snowfall. The scent is welcoming and the feeling is gentle, and loving.
Nestled right next to the cemetary, is a large park, Voulenteer Park and Botanical Gardens. Now, the two are seperated by a fence. A childrens wade pool is by the 'childrens section' of the cemetary, and a small playground is nestled next to the Asian/Japanese section in front.
One morning, at around 1 am, I decide to go walking with a friend of mine, Doug. He and I are pulled towards the wade pool, and we see the most beautiful display of reds, blues, yellows, pinks and orange lights dancing in the area. As always, in my trench coat pocket is my Poetry Diary that Doug gave to me. I try pulling it out, and writing about what I see, but come up empty handed.
All of a sudden, I get this inexplicable urge, to go to the gate of the cemetary, two blocks from where I am, and enter the grounds. The gates are open, and as though I am being guided in, I enter into the grounds. There is this, what can only be described as living mist, coiling around the stone markers.
A feeling of peace washes over me, and a sense of absolute warmth fills me at this point. All of a sudden, I begin to hear the pawing of hooves on the ground, I feel it beneath my feet, my eyes wide, I look around, but see nothing.
I then begin to hear the clashing of metal on metal, unseen sparring, going on around me, yelling in what can only be distinguished as japanese. Looking into the mist, I see two figures of fog, apparitions, lift themselves from the ground, turn their backs to one another and walk a short distance away to spar with unseen entities.
Metal hits metal, screams and laughter. The figures, after what feels like a lifetime, but must only be a short time, turn to each other, and stride, striking metal on metal, beginning to spar. They continue to spar, dressed in full Samuri battle garb glinting in the light of the moon, the Katana swords flashing, though transparent. The sound of metal striking leather, metal, flesh, and bone fills the air, yet there is only the scent of the blossoming trees on the grounds.
All the while, my friend Doug is outside of the cemetary, calling to me, screaming for me to come out. I can't hear him, I see him, but he does not see or hear any of this, and though the gate is open, he is unable to enter for some reason.
I open up my poetry diary and begin to write furiously and compose a poem called Warring Souls. *If you wish to see it, I will gladly PM it to you, I have it saved on an online site, please message me, and all that I ask, is that you do not plagerize my work, thanks*
The sparring continues, shouting, screaming, what sounds like cursing in Japanese tongue. At the first glints of dawn, the spirits stop, swords lower, tip to toe. The figures bow to one another and then retreat. Back to their markers, and again, sink into the ground. Upon investigation, I find out that not only are these two soldiers related, but they were twin brothers, betrayed by one another.
Hence the title of my poem, Warring Souls. This, as I said before, is my FAVORITE experience because it taught me so much about the paranormal.
I was able to do REAL full research, I found pictures of the brothers, (quite dashing for Asian men, and quite tall) and found the family stone, one of the brothers was removed, and put on a seperate, smaller stone next to the ancestrial stone, a high dishonor. I found out, that the way the brothers betrayed each other, was they sold each other out, for the other side. Apparently feuding since a childhood fight.
Their story was amazing and it still amazes me today. When I think of that, I feel nothing but peace and happiness. The same feelings that came over me in the cemetary.
This experience happened in late August of 2005. I was in Seattle, Washington at the time, and homeless. Some might think of being homeless as the worst thing that could happen. But for me, it was the greatest life lesson I could have enrolled in. It gave me time to explore myself and be truly free. Anyways, I am getting off topic. My favorite experience centers around a cemetary. Those of you who are knowladged in the paranormal, know that there are two types of resting grounds. Cemetaries, and Graveyards. One is at ease; a Cemetary. The other, quite the opposite; Graveyards. for the most part at least.
In Seattle Washinton, neslted back in a secluded part of the city, up by where all of the alternative lifestyle hubs are, is the grand Lake City Cemetary. The final resting place of Brandon Lee, *yes, from The Crow* and his father, Martial Arts Master Bruce Lee, as well as MANY other colorful persons from Seattles rich history. Now, in the front of this cemetary, is a very large, beautiful and extensive Asian/Japanese burial section. It is filled with Ancestorial Tablets, Mausoliums, beautiful markers and cherry blossom trees. The petals from the trees cover the grounds like a pink snowfall. The scent is welcoming and the feeling is gentle, and loving.
Nestled right next to the cemetary, is a large park, Voulenteer Park and Botanical Gardens. Now, the two are seperated by a fence. A childrens wade pool is by the 'childrens section' of the cemetary, and a small playground is nestled next to the Asian/Japanese section in front.
One morning, at around 1 am, I decide to go walking with a friend of mine, Doug. He and I are pulled towards the wade pool, and we see the most beautiful display of reds, blues, yellows, pinks and orange lights dancing in the area. As always, in my trench coat pocket is my Poetry Diary that Doug gave to me. I try pulling it out, and writing about what I see, but come up empty handed.
All of a sudden, I get this inexplicable urge, to go to the gate of the cemetary, two blocks from where I am, and enter the grounds. The gates are open, and as though I am being guided in, I enter into the grounds. There is this, what can only be described as living mist, coiling around the stone markers.
A feeling of peace washes over me, and a sense of absolute warmth fills me at this point. All of a sudden, I begin to hear the pawing of hooves on the ground, I feel it beneath my feet, my eyes wide, I look around, but see nothing.
I then begin to hear the clashing of metal on metal, unseen sparring, going on around me, yelling in what can only be distinguished as japanese. Looking into the mist, I see two figures of fog, apparitions, lift themselves from the ground, turn their backs to one another and walk a short distance away to spar with unseen entities.
Metal hits metal, screams and laughter. The figures, after what feels like a lifetime, but must only be a short time, turn to each other, and stride, striking metal on metal, beginning to spar. They continue to spar, dressed in full Samuri battle garb glinting in the light of the moon, the Katana swords flashing, though transparent. The sound of metal striking leather, metal, flesh, and bone fills the air, yet there is only the scent of the blossoming trees on the grounds.
All the while, my friend Doug is outside of the cemetary, calling to me, screaming for me to come out. I can't hear him, I see him, but he does not see or hear any of this, and though the gate is open, he is unable to enter for some reason.
I open up my poetry diary and begin to write furiously and compose a poem called Warring Souls. *If you wish to see it, I will gladly PM it to you, I have it saved on an online site, please message me, and all that I ask, is that you do not plagerize my work, thanks*
The sparring continues, shouting, screaming, what sounds like cursing in Japanese tongue. At the first glints of dawn, the spirits stop, swords lower, tip to toe. The figures bow to one another and then retreat. Back to their markers, and again, sink into the ground. Upon investigation, I find out that not only are these two soldiers related, but they were twin brothers, betrayed by one another.
Hence the title of my poem, Warring Souls. This, as I said before, is my FAVORITE experience because it taught me so much about the paranormal.
I was able to do REAL full research, I found pictures of the brothers, (quite dashing for Asian men, and quite tall) and found the family stone, one of the brothers was removed, and put on a seperate, smaller stone next to the ancestrial stone, a high dishonor. I found out, that the way the brothers betrayed each other, was they sold each other out, for the other side. Apparently feuding since a childhood fight.
Their story was amazing and it still amazes me today. When I think of that, I feel nothing but peace and happiness. The same feelings that came over me in the cemetary.
