My visit to a haunted Chicago antique store (The veil is thinning. Protect yourself!)

I'd never visited a very popular antique and salvage shop* in Chicago, although I was told by several people that it would blow my mind.  It just kept coming up for me at inopportune times, or I kept forgetting, or both.  But I've been on the hunt for a Mid-Century modern shadowbox for our tchotchkes for a long time now, and I had a free afternoon yesterday, so I thought, "Why the heck not visit this place already?" So I hopped in my car and traveled to the weest side of Chicago, parked right in front of the building, and sauntered right in.  The skies above were smiling an azure blue grin, a robin flew overhead, the sun warmed my shoulders, and all was right in my world.

The enormity of the space struck me; three labyrinthine floors and a courtyard of items dating back as far as the 1800s, with a wide mix of eras represented.  The management had thoughtfully grouped items in clever little vignettes, each one emitting a particular feel of homeyness or industry or curiosity or serenity or kitsch.  I was immediately drawn to an amazing Mid-Century buffet in honey wood, impeccably kept, with sliding glass doors and an asymmetry that really made it stand out.

But after that chance meeting with that particular piece of furniture, my energies were diverted for the next half hour or so, as if an unseen force slowly turned my head in one direction and then next..  I still was on the hunt for the aforementioned shadowbox, but I had to work very hard to keep myself focused on my task.  Because I was met head-on with a swirling mass of sad, displaced energies who yearned for acceptance, retribution, connection, or for just a way to tell someone "I'm here."

Here are some of the things I heard in my "mind's ear":

"Everything was taken away from me."

"Angry!  So angry! I hurt!"

"Please.  Help."

"Who are you and what do you want?"

"Stay out of the chapel.  This is not a real chapel."

"Keep away.  These are not your things."

As the energies changed and got darker, I immediately asked for Archangel Michael to surround me, to wrap his wings around me, to cover me with strength and clarity.  It's amazing how quickly he's summoned, how swiftly he jumps to the task (as I'm writing this, I'm thanking him again for the help and protection.  I feel you can't thank this big guy enough).

I ventured from floor to floor, taking in the furnishings and salvaged artwork, the huge collection of antique doors (leaning up against one another in rows like soldiers), the impressive array of dining and kitchen sets (arranged for events that are regularly scheduled at the space). And I was torn in two directions: the one half that took in the items as any common shopper would, and the other part, the empath, who's becoming increasingly tuned-in to otherworldly energies, who's learning (sometimes the hard way) to protect herself when she ventures out into the seemingly normal world.  I was alternately warm and cold.  Or very cold.  Or rather stuffy - and then suddenly chilled up and down my back.  A pressure, as though someone was pushing me through (or out) of the store, showed up intermittently during my entire visit.

The sunshine greeted me as I stepped out of the building - the last time I was so glad to be out of a building was when I visited Alcatraz!  I asked God to help me shake off any residual energies who might feel the need to accompany me to Starbucks.  I was nearly shaking as I got in my car, and took a minute to center myself.  I focused on my radio, on the peppy 40s jazz, on driving forward and journeying away from the locked-up, troubled (and occasionally vampiric) energies I'd just encountered.

And I decided to make good on an intuitive hit my hubby had, driving uptown to BAM (Broadway Antique Market) - and finding the MCM shadowbox of my dreams!  At a discount!  And a silk chiffon, apricot-colored scarf.  And a dinged-but-still-lovely Franciscan Starburst veggie dish (and Ben was pretty darned proud of himself when I told him that he was right to send me to BAM).  And, in case you're curious: yes, I pick up on spirits at just about any antique shop I visit.  And, yes, there were a few at BAM, but they simply flitted by, or directed me toward things I'd been seeking.  But rarely have I encountered energies as oppressive as I did at the "other" shop.

So, what did my trip to the first store teach me?  The following:

1.  It's that time of year when the veil is thinning.  Assume that you'll encounter heightened energies anywhere you roam.  IF the place you're going to visit is a catch-all for older items, or has a dubious or dark past, protect yourself before you enter the premises.  Tuck some rosemary in our pocket, an amethyst in your purse, a cross on a chain around your neck.  Do what you need to do.

2.  Pace yourself.  Stay focused on the task at hand.  Breathe.  Ask for guidance and protection from your angels and spirit guides as needed.

3.  You're not going to impress anyone by sticking it out if you're uncomfortable.  If the energy becomes too much to handle, leave.



*I did a pretty thorough search online to see if there have been any reports of hauntings at this property.  I came up empty.  Not knowing if the business would be grateful or irritated by my story, I've decided to keep the store's name anonymous.

Monday is Tarot Day: The Devil card. And how a different bit of imagery can work wonders ...

I get busy with tarot readings during the month of October.  Folks contact me for private readings, but also I book the occasional party, most often a "girls' night"-type of affair.  I love those, and I especially like to trick myself out as either my witchy self (scarves, chandelier earrings, head scarf, dark nail polish, Stevie Nicks-type skirt) or my Mid-Century self (think Joan from "Mad Men", but she's reading tarot).

In fact, I'll be adopting the early 60s finery for a party I'm reading in mid-October.  A group of girlfriends are gathering and I'm the spooky entertainment for their Halloween fete.  I told the host of the two types of looks and energies I provide, and she was quite adamant that the spookier one wouldn't quite hit right.  The more light-hearted one would be applicable for this soiree - and I'll be reading the Housewives' tarot that evening, whose artwork is taken from 50s and 60s ads, featuring bright colors and tongue-in-cheek imagery.

Because I was asked, point blank, if the cards that I'd be bringing would have any dark, disturbing imagery.  Some women, apparently, would be very scared/offended/put-off by it.

Must admit, if you're not familiar with what the cards mean, there's a huge difference between, for instance, this interpretation of the Devil card:



And THIS one:

Or this one, all dark and Maleficent:

But the meanings are the same: addiction, excessive desires, lurking in the darkness rather than the light.  Being a no-goodnick.

Hm ... I think I'll use that phrase if it's apt for a reading I do at the party.  Just to lessen the impact of the card.  If I feel I need to.

Fellow tarot readers: what are some of the cards that cause panic attacks for your querrents?  I'd love to hear your take and your thoughts.

On the upcoming Autumnal Equinox ...

So, I'm sitting here in my favorite neighborhood coffee house, sipping a pumpkin mocha.

(Let the record player needle in your head make that scratchy sound as you go, "Huh?")

During the summer, I favor an iced mocha.  When the weather gets cooler, I veer toward the typically more autumnal offerings.  Today, September 20th,I couldn't decide which direction I wanted to go.

It's that time of year again.  When our inner clocks intrinsically know that Summer is ending, but we want to hold onto it, to savor that last moment outside on the back deck, listening to the waterfall, or the marvelling at the brilliant summer flowers in the Mexican ware planters, or just being able to take a walk in our sandals.

Summer sings loudly, demanding our attention, in a rainbow hue of a melody.

Autumn whispers softly, requesting our presence, in a cidery, scratchy, smoky voice.

Autumn officially arrives on Sunday, September 22, a scant two days away.  Now is the time to thank Summer for her charm, her Charleston of wispy riches.  My Summer was absolutely jam-packed with more socializing than I've had since college, a little too much imbibing, and an exquisite balance of work busyness and sultry, quiet times.  Summer gave me the impetus to (finally) lose 6 lbs. (and counting), to keep moving and vital and vibrant.  I gratefully acknowledge Summer for her boundless gifts.



Painted Wheel of the Year from the Museum of Witchcraft, Boscastle

And I welcome Autumn's riches, which are already starting to peek out from behind a dusty, leather-bound book.  I welcome the contemplative times, the crunchy leaves under my Keens, and the Season of the Witch, the beginning of the seasonal wheel.  (I also expectantly await Epcot's Food and Wine Festival, and the Magic Kingdom's "Not So Scary Halloween Party", but that's another blog post for another day).

So what are you going to send Summer a "thank you" note for?  And what plans are you going to make for the brisk, golden, dark and dappled energy of Autumn?

I plan on gratefully taking down plenty of pumpkin mochas, served warm ...