Archive for June, 2007
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The Palace Theatre in London, has three ghosts. The first two, Ivor Novello and Anna Pavlova, are still famous names today; but the third spirit is perhaps less well-known to the general public, yet according to the theatre manager is the only ârealâ oneâŠ
âŠIt was early 2006 and we had moved our production of âWhistle Down The Windâ into âThe Palaceâ for a West-End season. âWhistleâ is itself a very spiritual piece, as are many of the works of Andrew Lloyd Webber, even if itâs present musical incarnation, a collaboration between ALW and Jim Steinman (of Meatloaf fame) has taken the original story from Barnsley in the North of England and re-planted it in âElvisâ country around Memphis and the Mississippi..
It was quite late one evening, just after one of our technical rehearsals. The cast had either returned home, or were helping to prop up the bars of the various Soho watering-holes behind the theatre. Iâm never in a rush to leave a theatre after rehearsals or a performance â I like to stand or sit quietly and feel the energiesâŠ
âŠI was leaning over the orchestra pit-rail, looking at the empty stage, when I had the distinct sensation that someone was with me. At first I didnât bother to turn, thinking that a member of the cast or theatre staff had joined me, but hearing no comment, I glanced to my leftâŠ
âŠfor an instant I saw a man watching the stage. Then he disappeared.
I looked down into the orchestra pit. Our musical director was pottering about with his keyboards, but I knew it was not a reflection or optical illusion, as I had D in my central vision, at the same time as I saw the apparition. Not only that, but I experienced a familiar âTangy-Twangâ; a feeling like an electric thrill running through my body, but especially in my lower stomach and in my third-eye area.
It was hard to recollect what I had seen; the mental image began to fade, as quickly as I had perceived it - âfeeling-seeingâ would be the closest to describing a man who was smart and who had authority; a man who was aware of me, but who (like me) was leaning over the pit-rail - just watching the stage.
The next night, D (the MD) and I met at a function in Park Lane. D, who upon occasion dips his toes into the spiritual world, was at first only mildly interested. When the prospect of Anna Pavlova and especially Ivor Novello becoming spirit allies to the production was raised however, Dâs interest increased somewhat. âWhat did he look like?â he
âWhat did he look likeâ The question was quite difficult to answer. As a dancer and choreographer, most of my visual-experiences are quite physical in the way they manifest inside me â in short, I âSee-Feel.â But I tried to answer his questionâŠ
âHe was leaning over the pit rail â just watchingâ
âHe was smartly dressed, in a dark suit with a white collarâ
âHe wore cologneâ
âHe seemed big or at least strong.â
âHe had curly hairâ
âHe was important â He was a Boss.â
âNo, I donât think it was Ivor Novello. I think it was a theatre manager.â
. D is a great fan of Ivor Novello and of musical and theatre history. (and his impression of Gracie Fields singing âSallyâ is part of theatre legend) So my last statement came as something of a disappointmentâŠâNot Ivor NovelloââŠ. Dâs eyes de-focussed and his attention turned to Hayley Mills, the original girl in the film âWhistle Down the Windâ who was the star guest of the eveningâŠ
On the other hand, I had become more excited than ever about the apparition. I realised that my spontaneous âI think it was a theatre managerâ, had unlocked a âFelt-Truthâ inside me.
The next day I went to see the theatre manager. âSo youâve seen himâ said L. I followed her into her small office, where she showed me cuttings and articles. âAnna Pavlova and Ivor Novello are only legend,â she said âThe real ghost is Charles Morton.â
âThe Palace started life in 1891 as the Royal English Opera House, but by 1892 had been sold, redecorated and renamed the Palace Theatre of Varieties. Charles Morton was the manager. For Morton this marked the height of his career. Having made his name and fortune in setting up music halls, including the Canterbury and the Oxford, he was at last running a West End theatre. He was a hardworking and fit man, who rarely ate meat and rarely smoked (unusual in those days). At the age of 83 he was still running up to the top dressing rooms of the Palace two or three times a night.
As the review states âHe was a hardworking and fit man.â I had received such an impression of strength and fitness from the spirit that it further convinced me that I had sensed his presence. L then went on to describe how he normally is sighted in the dress-circle. âA woman complained that there was a man, sitting on the lap of a female member of the audience!â she related, âbut what she was seeing was the transparent image of Charles Morton, superimposed over the lady, who was presumably unaware that she was being sat on!.â L was really pleased at my sighting and I was equally pleased that she hadnât thought I was a total weirdoâŠ
After L and I had finished talking, I wandered down to the lower bar, which is below street level and wandered along a long corridor, full of photographs and illustrations of some of the many productions that have opened (and closed) at the Palace.
Then I found itâŠ
It was the word âWatchingâ that clinched it for me.
The term âclairvoyanceâ literally means âClear Seeingâ Originating from 17th century French, it is often used as an umbrella term for psychic awareness. Although I often get an impression of âseeingâ a spirit, it is much more a physical impression â or what I call âSee-Feelâ. What I did at the pit-rail, was first to âfeelâ that someone was with me (that was indeed my first impression) and then to turn and see the apparition. My âseeingâ moment however, was very fleeting but had with it, the impression of a man of considerable importance and most of all âStrengthâ.
So I had âseenâ Charles Morton, but like being in company with someone with a large personality, I had also âfeltâ his presence. Clair-sentience means âclear-feelingâ and this instance, together with most of my encounters with the spirit world, was very typical of the awareness process I go through.
I receive most of my spiritual impressions as a combination of Clairvoyance and Clairsentience â a sort of spiritual sense crossover. Many people experience sense crossover, finding that they can âhearâ paintings and even taste music.
In other words, I am a spiritual synaesthete (a synaesthete, is a person who involuntarily experiences a crossing over of the senses) So there!
Note: Iâve put two new audio answers for Clairvoyance and Clairsentience in the FAQ section http://www.soulmerlin.com/faq.html
Around 1977 I was booked as choreographer for a production of Aladdin that was due to open at the Beck Theatre in Hayes (Hillingdon) Middlesex. http://www.ents24.com/web/venue/1708/Hayes/Beck_Theatre.html
It was the day before the grand opening and time was running out; so I (young, ambitious and stupid) elected to paint the stage-floor overnight, so that it would resemble a grassy glade, rather than the platform of a school prize-giving ceremony.
The final dress rehearsal ended at 10pm and the stage manager prepared me for my overnight stay, telling me to stay within the confines of the stage and dressing room areas, as the rest of the building was covered in âelectric-eyeâ security. I have always found adventures such as this, to be really exciting and so, after locating the dressing room where I would eventually sleep and collecting paint, brushes and rollers, I set straight to work.
I must have been working for around an hour, when I became aware of a sensation. I worked on for a little while, but the sensation was growing. It seemed to start right at my pubic bone, curving upward and going at first back to my lower vertebrae; then upward and forward toward the centre of my chest. I knew that I was being watched.
I remember feeling quite scared and unable to move, but I fought the feelings down and continued to roll the green paint onto the floor. Then the goosebumps happened; my whole body tremored and shivered and I could hardly move. I carefully turned my head, just a fraction and looked out into the auditorium â and there they sat.
Through the corner of my eye, I could see two dim, hooded figures, sitting at the back of the auditorium. I continued slowly painting and wondering if the stage manager had come back â but I knew he hadnât. Eventually I could take it no longer; I decided to âcall it a nightâ and headed down to the dressing room area below the stage.
Once below stage, my fears subsided. I made a cup of coffee and settled down for the night on a beaten-up old settee, with my feet sticking out into the cold-air and my head cricked at a sharp angle. I pulled an old bit of black âtatâ over me and tried to get to sleep as best I could.
I woke suddenly to the sound of footsteps on the stage above me. Just two steps and then silence. I remember my heart rate going up, the goose-bumps returning and the sensation in the pit of my stomach. Then the footsteps happened again â and again â and again - all through the sleepless night.
The worst moment was the last. It must have been near dawn, (although Iâm not sure as I was under the stage and I have never been able to wear a wrist watch), when the footsteps came right up to the stairs leading down to the dressing room area â and stopped. âPlease, please donât come downâ I thought. Perhaps the spirits understood just how scared I was and took pity, as the footsteps did not descend the stairs â but I was very glad to see the cleaners arrive.
âtill the next time
Letâs look at five areas. (not listed in order of importance)
a)Telephone/Radio/TV contact from beyond.
b) Moods and emotions affecting electrical apparatus, especially lightbulbs
c) Hearing Voices
d) Spirit Guides
e) Dreams and Visions
Itâs only when something really odd occurs that some people pause and consider that perhaps they are experiencing something paranormal. Thatâs why the story of Christinaâs Telephone was so important to me http://www.soulmerlin.com/christina1.html
Suffice to say that my experience with her mobile phone, led me to go to spiritualist church the following Sunday. When I walked through the front door of the small church, I could feel her with me. It was no surprise therefore to hear the Reverend Eileen remark to me from the pulpit âThereâs a lady with you; a âproperâ lady. Sheâs wondering why no-one can see her but me.â Christina was a âproperâ lady â the daughter of a Methodist preacher and brought up with the good manners and style of someone who was born in 1915, into a respectable and devout family environment. Ok â good guess by Rev. Eileen perhaps.
Lightbulbs are another thing. Whenever I get angry or upset, lightbulbs start âblowingâ. So much so that people who stay with me, remark that it must be very expensive to keep on constantly replacing them. In my car, the offside headlamp blows at least twice as much as the nearside one, (come on drivers â the offside headlamp is the one in front of the driver and the nearside one, in front of the passenger â in the UK that is), and the dashboard lights are constantly needing replacement.
I donât hear voices too often. There is one âspiritâ that calls my name and then gently (but not unkindly) laughs, sometimes when I am in bed. This usually happens when I have a problem I am trying to solve, or when Iâm feeling lonely. Perhaps âvoicesâ are the most worrying for people. Iâll put it very simply â If you hear a voice and it is telling you to do something destructive â say âNo!â very firmly. It matters little to the outside world if your âvoiceâ is a discarnate entity, or a subconscious illusion â but your actions will certainly matter - either in a positive or a negative way.
For the latter reason, I tend to steer away from âOuijaâ (Weegee) boards. Unless all the intentions of the various circle members are sincere, people dabbling with cups, glasses, pointers and cut-out alphabet letters (and sometimes slightly the worse for drink at the end of a party, for example) are creating a recipe for trouble. Chris the psychic, at âMysteriesâ in Monmouth Street, London, explained to me that using the board, bypassed the influence of a personâs spirit guide or guardian. In other words âgoing it aloneâ without help. The time honoured statement at the start of a Ouija-Board session is usually âIs anyone there?â This is the psychic equivalent of leaving your front door wide open at night when you go to bed, but not before shouting out that statement into the night and therefore to anyone who might be lurking in the darkness.
It was also Chris who explained to me that my mother was now my spirit guide and that she was âopening me upâ to psychic happenings that the spirit world had so far protected me from, in case the resultant experiences were too much for me to handle.
Sounds far-fetched? Well during the session, Chris had been doing my Astrology chart and he gave out the proclamation that Christina was my Guide. âLook at this lineâ he said. âIt runs from bottom-left to top right. That is your motherâs influence.â
âHey Hoâ I thought, as it all sounded very nice, but a tad unbelievable. Then I looked again; âWhat is the sign that the line starts fromâ I asked.
âCapricornâ he replied.
(Capricorn was my motherâs birth-sign â I hadnât told him.)
One occasion, which I am due to put in the âSpiritâ section, involved two thugs, a nurse who appeared as if from nowhere and an open door which was always locked. I was running from the two thugs, to try to escape a savage beating, or worse. With seconds to spare, I hurried up to the door of a large private house (it was 2am in the morning) and prayed that the door would be open â and it was! As soon as I was inside, a nurse appeared. I shouted at her to lock the door. Amazingly she did at once, even though from her point of view, I could have been a dangerous man. The thugs hammered on the glass-front of the door, shouting and swearing. It looked like a scene from a nightmare. I was so lucky. Later the nurse (the house turned out to be a private nursing home) said two things which Iâll never forget:
âI never come this way on my rounds.â
âI donât understand - that door is never unlocked!â
âSpirit Guidesâ, âGuardian Angelsâ, or âInstinctâ â whatever. One thing I know for sure: it was not my time.
Dreams and Visions
Can you relate to of the above experiences? It might be a good idea to start your own âpsychic diaryâ. Relax and think back over your life, then jot down any events that were similar to the five examples above. Iâll do another batch in my next Almanack entry, which will be on-line no later than midnight this coming Sunday (UK time)
I was really pleased to see that âsitepalâ, the international company that makes the animated characters I use on the site) have included soulMerlinâs Grove in their showcase. Itâs a good feeling to be recognised, as the site has only been on-line since late March of this year. Thank you.
Finally for two people I know very well and who have suffered bereavements; one tragic and one natural. I was lying on a couch in my dressing-room between shows, when I noticed that the sky was full of really beautiful clouds. I had been thinking about both of my friends and so I decided to take a photograph. I reached for my camera and at the same instant I clicked the shutterâŠ
The Conditions of a Solitary Bird
The conditions of a solitary bird are five:
The first, that it flies to the highest point;
The second, that it does not suffer for company,
not even of its own kind;
The third, that it aims its beak to the skies;
The fourth, that it does not have a definite color;
The fifth, that it sings very softly.
these are the words of
San Juan de la Cruz in his âSayings of Light and Loveâ
and quoted in âJourney to Ixtlanâ by Carlos Castaneda
âtill the next time
For now we see through a glass darklyâŠbut then Face to Face
I sat at the top of the stairs, waiting for the mist to returnâŠ
I had been unable to sleep the previous night and I had decided to get up and make a cup of coffee. Itâs illogical that I often have a cup of coffee to get off to sleep; but there you are, it works for me. Itâs sometimes difficult in theatre âdigsâ, to roam around after âlights outâ, many landlords and landladies, get very insecure when their guests, especially rather strange ones, start wandering about in the small hours, but thatâs the way I am and after some 40yrs on tour with various productions - if I want to get up and wander - then I do.
I had ( as our American cousins would say) âgottenâ up, restless and nervous about the next days work and had decided to go to the kitchen and make a pot of coffee. When I reached the middle of the stairs, leading to the front-door (straight ahead) or to the kitchen (turn right), I noticed that the hallway and especially around the hallway light, was shrouded in mist. At first I blamed my spectacles; many spectacle wearers will empathise with me when I point out the curse of condensation - when I wiped the lenses however - the mist remained.
It was very beautiful (the mist); looking like the frozen haze above a late autumn field, it hung in the air and seemed to cover everything from the stair-rail to the front door and even to the pictures on the walls. I was fascinated but not afraid because the atmosphere was calm and loving.
I turned right toward the kitchen; the kitchen door was open, but a mist, like a gauze-screen, covered the whole of the door-frame. I walked carefully through it, noting that the temperature had seemed to drop.
When I returned from the kitchen with my coffee, the âectoplasmicâ mist was still there. I had the sensation of a âpresenceâ in the middle of the hallway - an âarea of powerâ, which I knew I should respectâŠ
The next day I mentioned this to the landlady. âYesâ she confirmed, there had been an old lady, who lived in the house, many years ago and she had died at the very spot I felt the âpowerâ. She had also experienced the âpresenceâ but not for a few years and I sensed that she did not want to dwell on the experience again.
Personally I have no fear of discarnate entities, in fact programmes on TV, such as âMost Hauntedâ actually anger me. I know it helps audience ratings, but after going to such lengths to locate a spirit or âhauntingâ, the sight and sound of the presenter screaming in shock (real-good for ratings) makes me wonder what the spirit must feel. To contact from another dimension is one thing, but to then have the people who are trying to contact, start to run around like silly children in theatrical shock, is I feel an insult to any âpassed overâ spirit who may have been trying to contact, or who may be in need of earthly help.
The next night, I determined to âmeetâ the spirit. Around 1am, when everyone else was in bed, I tiptoed along the corridor and sat a couple of stairs down - and waitedâŠ
Very soon the mist appeared, like fog descending, covering the whole of the hallway and hanging like suspended vapour. It was very beautiful and I felt a simple sensation of peace and calm. I walked down to the hallway and walked into the mistâŠ
I was wearing a short sleeved shirt and so I reached into the cold air and layered the âshroudâ onto me, bathing and rubbing my arms and hands. It was cold, but not uncomfortably so. I took handfuls of mist and smoothed them over my faceâŠthe feeling was again peaceful and also loving.
Donât be afraid if you experience this. Chris, my favourite clairvoyant from âMysteriesâ in Monmouth Street London, says: âIt isnât the discarnate spirits that we should be afraid of, itâs the spirits that still have bodies around them â theyâre much more dangerous.â
How wise he isâŠ..
If youâve found this site through Google or any other search machine and havenât found the âhomeâ page (the Grove) click this link and have a wander.
âtill the next time
Last Wednesday (30th), was the day before the second anniversary of my motherâs death, so when Jeremy, one of our keyboard players told me he had spotted a âFortune-Tellerâ in the Savoy indoor market at the town-end of Suchihall Street that he thought might interest me, I made a mental note to visit her the following day.
Our daily matinee ends at 4.30, so I knew I had to get a move-on. I was out of the stage door within ten minutes of the show coming down and striding out along Glasgowâs most well known street. I had (I thought) remembered Jeremyâs instructions, but found myself lost between HMV, John Lewis and Virgin. The time was ticking by and I began to give up hope. It was almost 5.20 and I reckoned that, at the worst the Psychic would be finishing work at 5.30 - at best 6.00pm. So I had 10 â 40mins only, not really enough time to find the place, presuming the psychic was indeed available and not in the middle of the last consultation of the day.
I was starting to feel sweaty and fatigued and a bit exasperated. Jeremyâs directions had been simple and clear, so I upped my walking pace and at last found the Savoy centre. In I went and hurried around the stalls and trinket shops - clothes, sweets, socks, jewellery and even a cafĂ© â but no psychic. It was now around 5.25, so I gave up and walked out of the centre and back onto Suchihall street.
Now I had understandably felt very close to Christina all day and I had the distinct feeling that she wanted to contact me. I find I have to be very careful to separate my self-generated fantasy thoughts and feelings, from genuine insight â but the feeling that she was around me, like a sort of pixie-dust; covering me from head to feet was unmistakable.
I had first felt her âcoveringâ on the night she died. I remember lying in bed and feeling her all around me. I remember reaching up and touching my face and discovering it felt like her face - to be embraced by a spirit is unlike any other sensation.
By this time, I was walking in circles outside the Savoy centre. I stopped, looking back toward the large John Lewis store complex, where Suchihall Street turns sharp right into Buchanan Street and the rail station. I thought, âIf you really want to talk to me mam, then youâd better help.â I turned and there was Jeremy the keyboard player! Events like that make me smile and go warm all over. Coincidence? I think the odds against meeting Jeremy at that moment, especially as I had just asked Christina for help, must have been extremely high.
Jeremy led me back into the centre and around the right-hand side of the cafĂ© and there it was. Jeremy said goodbye, but I was already intent on getting a session if at all possible, so I went straight in and sat down on one of the chairs in the little waiting-room
Almost at once, Maura the psychic appeared from a nearby stall. âCan I book a consultationâ, I asked âOr will you do one now?â As it turned out, Maura was able to fit in a short consultation, offering a twenty minute âshort readingâ. That was good enough for me, so in I went, through dark curtains, into her consulting roomâŠ
âI can feel your mother all around you.â Mauraâs opening gambit, especially as I hadnât said anything more than âhelloâ, was encouraging, âshe is guiding youâ. She continued, gazing astutely from the other side of the small, velvet-covered table. Maura had chosen the âsoulâ cards for the reading, remarking that she felt I was a very spiritual person, a loner and âone of a kindâ. (all very true) As she continued, each detail became part of the repeating pattern that has occurred since Christina passed over; âYou are writing a book, but it is a book about your life!ââŠ (again that was true)
At this point, I realized that all the messages I had received over the past two years, were being again repeatedâŠ
Maura then gave real proof of her considerable ability. âThere is someone else who is very dear and lovedââŠ..(I thought of Liz, my ex-wife, who was very close to my mother â in fact they were the best of friends)âŠ.. âThe name Elizabeth is coming into my head.â I was stunned. If I needed proof that my feelings of Christina being âaroundâ were correct, âElizabethâ provided it, especially as only my mother called her by her full name. I have always called her âLizâ and her family usually chose âBettyâ in conversation.
Maura, with her black headscarf, long skirt and white blouse, then turned to her crystal ballâŠ
âI see 100âŠ.you may live a long timeâ (eek!)
âYou will receive unexpected riches â though not financialâ (tsk! tsk!)
âI see a young girlâ (I have two grandsons â could a granddaughter be arriving?)
I walked back to the theatre with the broadest of smiles. Maura was excellent. If youâre in Glasgow, I suggest you ring her and pay a visit.
MAURA 0141-332-7375 Home:0141-334-0565
The Politically Correct and the Emotionally Immature
I noted in the news last week, that in order to spare embarrassment, the RNIB has censored the use of the word âC**kâ in their literature, often using asterisks *, when describing a male bird. They have however, failed to censor the word âTitâ as for example in Blue Tit. Therefore we can have âTitsâ but not âC**ksâ. A clear case of s**ism I fear.
A Weather C**k
By censoring it, attention is drawn toward the most unsavory of the double-meaning they are trying to avoid.
(in any case, the weatherâs been fowl this week so far)
âtill the next time