Ghosts are typically assumed to be spirits of people who are stuck in the physical world, and remain connected to places or objects or even other living people (especially their most loved or hated ones, or those very sensitive to the 'vibe'). Psychics claim to be able to connect to a person who has 'passed over' (ie dead) by holding an object of theirs. Cell 16 of the Old Melbourne Gaol is a place supposed to be particularly haunted, more so than the gallows cell. When we visited the gaol, the whole place was certainly spooky, but there was a guide dog which whimpered and refused to go into that particular cell.
..."If these walls could talk, what stories would they tell?"...
We also don't find it hard to believe that places and objects can be imprinted with an emotion or an event, and maybe a shadow of the people (or animals!) involved, without actually being the place of anyone's death.
Very strong ghosts, or layers of ghosts, can give visitors ignorant of the particular circumstances a 'vibe'; most of us go quiet in a cathedral, a sacred cave, or an elephant graveyard; and I challenge anyone to go to a university Halls of Residence during summer break, and not pick up the uni student pheromones of attraction/repulsion/lust/betrayal/revenge which have soaked into the walls.
Ghosts can be very personal too. When I visit places where I first went with a long-moved-on ex, I get a vivid sense of the two of us as we were then, still imprinted on that place. Would having a big argument with someone there leave an imprint on a cafe? Or put another way, would you go back there lightly?
...Small objects, small ghosts...
Most of us keep small items with our ghosts, we call them mementos or keepsakes. Typical ghost-carriers include jewellery, things with your handwriting on them, things you made or fixed, when you pick them up your mind flashes back to another time when you imprinted something on them. Something tiny - oh yeah I wrote that phone number down on a supermarket docket because my phone screen was broken, I dropped it outside the fish & chip shop, I remember that day, it was raining.... or something significant - Mum gave me that to cheer me up after I failed my first uni exam... If you listen carefully, sometimes you can pick up the ghost from someone else's stuff. This is why I love secondhand shops and antique shops - it's a real treat picking up a nifty thingo with a nifty ghost on it.
Knitting ghost map
My knitting has ghosts. The wool carries memories for me of where I found it, what I did with it (dyed, knitted the other half skein into something else) but there are tiny ghosts in the stitches too. Here is a recent project, made in a very busy week. Not my finest knitting effort, but perfect for illustrating a ghost map. I have labelled the ghosts in it for you guys, they are the memories that came back vividly as I felt the fabric and tracked my gaze along a row. Sometimes even medium-sized ghosts can hide in a pattern sequence or garment change -especially a stripy one like this.
I wonder if this is true of all stuff handmade with thought and care.
And I also wonder if our mass-sweatshop-produced clothing and footwear, contaminated-factory-labour electronics, slave-labour chocolate and coffee, and conflict gems carry ghosts of the despair of the producers. Which might be why handmade stuff seems inherently 'nicer' to many people.
..."If these walls could talk, what stories would they tell?"...
We also don't find it hard to believe that places and objects can be imprinted with an emotion or an event, and maybe a shadow of the people (or animals!) involved, without actually being the place of anyone's death.
Very strong ghosts, or layers of ghosts, can give visitors ignorant of the particular circumstances a 'vibe'; most of us go quiet in a cathedral, a sacred cave, or an elephant graveyard; and I challenge anyone to go to a university Halls of Residence during summer break, and not pick up the uni student pheromones of attraction/repulsion/lust/betrayal/revenge which have soaked into the walls.
Ghosts can be very personal too. When I visit places where I first went with a long-moved-on ex, I get a vivid sense of the two of us as we were then, still imprinted on that place. Would having a big argument with someone there leave an imprint on a cafe? Or put another way, would you go back there lightly?
...Small objects, small ghosts...
Most of us keep small items with our ghosts, we call them mementos or keepsakes. Typical ghost-carriers include jewellery, things with your handwriting on them, things you made or fixed, when you pick them up your mind flashes back to another time when you imprinted something on them. Something tiny - oh yeah I wrote that phone number down on a supermarket docket because my phone screen was broken, I dropped it outside the fish & chip shop, I remember that day, it was raining.... or something significant - Mum gave me that to cheer me up after I failed my first uni exam... If you listen carefully, sometimes you can pick up the ghost from someone else's stuff. This is why I love secondhand shops and antique shops - it's a real treat picking up a nifty thingo with a nifty ghost on it.
Knitting ghost map
My knitting has ghosts. The wool carries memories for me of where I found it, what I did with it (dyed, knitted the other half skein into something else) but there are tiny ghosts in the stitches too. Here is a recent project, made in a very busy week. Not my finest knitting effort, but perfect for illustrating a ghost map. I have labelled the ghosts in it for you guys, they are the memories that came back vividly as I felt the fabric and tracked my gaze along a row. Sometimes even medium-sized ghosts can hide in a pattern sequence or garment change -especially a stripy one like this.
I wonder if this is true of all stuff handmade with thought and care.
And I also wonder if our mass-sweatshop-produced clothing and footwear, contaminated-factory-labour electronics, slave-labour chocolate and coffee, and conflict gems carry ghosts of the despair of the producers. Which might be why handmade stuff seems inherently 'nicer' to many people.
It might not be pretty in the photo, but it fits me perfectly and actually looks pretty snazzy with black pants and Western boots, and it is a mosty-happy knit. The green band just above the waist contains excitement and good hopes for a newly pregnant mum and her fetus. And when I look at the lower left sleeve hem, I am reminded of the relief that I kept my job. Not a bad lot of ghosts for one jumper, huh.
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