(Haunted) House Hunting!
Houses retain the energies of those who have passed through them. The longer a person is in a home, the more the house absorbs the energy of that person--for better or worse. Over the years, those energies settle into the house, becoming part of its foundation.
I've been thinking about this lately as I've finished my own search for a new home. Just as important as the big kitchen or the walk-in closet is the vibe of the home. How do I feel when I enter it? Does it invite lightness and good energy? Or am I feeling anxious and heavy as I walk from room to room? These sensations matter. They tell us a lot about the residual energy of past residents--energetic hauntings if you will.
My sister, who is also house hunting with her husband right now, always asks the same question when talking to real estate agents: why are the owners selling this home? What made the previous tenant decide to move? Her reasoning is simple: she doesn't want a house that has absorbed negative energy from previous owners. That energy remains and will then affect the quality of her household. She listens to the answers, both implicit and explicit: the family needed a bigger house after having their second child, the woman is moving in with her boyfriend--both reasons showing a home of growth and abundance.
She also listens to the half-truths the agents relate: the house was too much work, the owners wanted a change. These empty answers can sometimes inadvertently reveal the unsettled energies of the house--especially when paired with that creepy unfinished basement or the random cubbyhole built into the floor of the closet.
Recognizing a haunted house is in more than just hearing strange whispers and seeing things out of the corner of your eye. It is more than the cemetery in the back of the house, or the weird illustrations coating the walls in the attic. It's about the feel of the house. More than one friend has told me about an outwardly fine home they didn't like for no other reason than the fact that they felt uneasy in that space. These impressions tell us that it isn't the right home for us--its energies are not our energies. Or worse, there is seriously bad juju that saturates the walls, left there by former tenants.
Or course, not all hauntings are bad. My apartment in Seattle was totally haunted--it was once an old mansion that was converted into an apartment building many years ago, so naturally, it had seen a lot of things and absorbed a lot of different vibes. And not all the energy was the same from room to room in that building. The laundry room in the basement, for example, was dark and heavy, as was the greenish corridor with the yellowed sunken-in flooring you had to walk down to get to it--certainly no place I would want to find myself alone at night, even though it was tucked inside a safe apartment complex. On the flip side, my apartment itself was characterized by lots of friendly light that poured in through giant windows. It was a happy space, a sanctuary from the heaviness of school. I'd come to see my one-bedroom apartment as having its own spirit--a light, bright, playful spirit that had no room for droll professors or even more boorish theory books. I was more than happy with this haunting, as we were in perfect agreement.
I felt the same zing in that apartment as I did in finding my new place here in Albuquerque. That's how I knew this new home was right. After months of searching for the right new home, I finally found the one that spoke to me (okay, an apartment!). It didn't have creepy dark alleyways right behind it, or fake faded flowers outside its door; it didn't have dirty corners and thin walls; it didn't have sterile rooms or cold kitchens. It was simply bright light and warmth, homey and clean, at once cozy yet spacious. Our energies were simpatico.
So, is this new place haunted? Probably, but from where I'm standing, it's absorbed nothing but good energy, so I'm happy with the kind of haunted it is. I just hope it likes green chile stew and old movies as much as I do.