Threads In Tyme, LTD     |     home

Spirit Rescue

Spirit Rescue    
What can I say about the subject of Spirit Rescue? There is a lot to say, but little formal research. If you go to “Goggle” and do a search for “Spirit Rescue“ you may find thousands of URL's...but little practical information. Little is known or understood about Spirit Rescue. Few people have any real experience, but this is changing! As more and more spirits come forward seeking to cross over contact will increase.


Emotions are a very powerful force for the living. Why would emotions be any different for the living challenged?
There are a myriad of reason why spirit fails to cross over right after death. It has been my experience (I only speak for myself and no one else) that some spirits are afraid to cross because their experience after dying is so vastly different from what they learned in Sunday school! In Sunday school we are convinced that when death occurs, we instantly cross over and stand face-to-face with God. Waiting for the judgment call so that we can enter into Heaven or Hades. The reality of which does not occur and the recently deceased lose their faith and refuse to cross over. They may spend days, weeks, decades, or eons waiting for the right medium to come along to help them cross.

Wait they will...until the right person comes along! That was my first experience ever with a spirit rescue. Deb and I had been invited to attend a “ghost hunt” (something that I rarely do) at a local cemetery. For hours before we left, I felt cold and uneasy. Finally we arrived at the cemetery and we located the group. The leader explained that there were some new graves in one specific area and Deb and I walked in that direction. As we walked, I grew more uneasy. There were a few people who had located a new grave and they were examining some of the notes and photo's that had been hung on the arbor that someone had lovingly placed on the grave. The arbor had blown over and everything hung sort of wily nilly. I bent over the read some of the information that was hanging on the tipped over arbor and as I bent over, suddenly a rush of information ran through me. This was nothing that I had ever experienced! I knew almost everything about the young person who was lying in the grave. I knew his name, his nickname, his loves, his dislikes, etc. How he died. The entire kit and caboodle in one fell instant!
I started to stand upright and I started to explain who he was and why he had died. Those standing around me looked at me with huge eyes. “Did you know him?, they asked. ”No. I don't know how I know this, but I do. It was like I suddenly knew all about the young man.“ ”You MUST have known him“, one person remarked. ”No,“ I insisted...”I never did meet him until now.“ Some of the people looked at me as if I did know the young man, but I had never ever been in that particular cemetery before that night! In fact, when we went to find it, we were so lost that we finally gave up and called one of the members of the group to get actual driving directions. But this was not to be all of our experience!

The next day was a Sunday and we were sitting in our living room watching our kittens playing with Neo, their half brother. One of the kittens climbed on our dining room table and was watching our ceiling very intensely. I stood there behind her not knowing what she was looking at since I could not see the spirit myself. I decided to sit down in our living room and shortly after doing so, I turned to Deb and told her “we have a visitor...” That is my signal to Deb that we have a spirit present. No sooner that I said that when suddenly a loud banging sound on our dining room table. I approached the table and there were more banging but this time it was coming from the top of our bookcase.

I walked back to our living room undecided just what to do. I decided to call a Native American medium who was a friend of mine. I explained to her what had happened and she concurred that was indeed what was happening. I asked her what to do and she said “Wait a minute and let me light my candles...” At the moment I thought that that was a very odd thing to say. But once again, she was right! She lit her candles and started to meditate and gave me some of the details about this spirit. It turns out that it was the same spirit of the young person who we had “met” the night before. My friend explained that the young person was partly Native American who had been a devout Christian all of his life. At his crossing he was struck by the fact that the entire death experience was not like what the Church had been telling him! He had grown resentful of living his life along Church dogma and when he arrived at the  next dimension heaven was not what the Church had promised! He felt that he had been sold a “bill of goods”. All of his adult life was spent following the precepts of his church when he could have spent time loving people for being who they are. More than anything else he could have had a child...he dearly loved children! All of his efforts working for the church were to no avail. He had brought a good deal of new Christians into this world, but he would never have any real children that would survive him. According to Native American tradition (and a great deal many other cultures as well), it is the living who keep the names and experiences of those who have crossed over through story telling. And no children of this young man would ever mention their father's name out loud ever. That is why he was angry! He had no members of his own children to either tell stories about him or even to mention his name. For him, it was if he had never been born.

My friend made telepathic contact with him and asked him what he needed to cross over. To him he needed two things: .First, he needed reassurance that no one would lie to him and be upright with him as to what to expect; secondly, he wanted to hear some Native American prayers. My friend gave him the reassurance he needed, offered the prayers and before he left, he gave her a big hug as a way of saying “Thank YOU!” I could feel his spirit moving towards the light as he finally crossed over to the next dimension. I was glad that I had called my friend to assist!

The next time when a spirit rescue happened was during March,2005 and I was sitting (again) on our living room sofa and suddenly I was sensed a roomful of what I could only term as 'spirits“. I knew nothing about them except that they had asked me to speak to them. I will not here use their own personal experience or crossing in the off chance that the reader may identify the incident that I am going to tell you about.

According to what I was told by them, they were a group of spirits who had been killed in a single case of a high school shooting incident. They wanted to know what had happened to the shooter. And what was going to become of them. In addition, they were among the angriest of spirits that I had ever seen. I explained that they were indeed dead. I also explained to them that only the living have anger...since there was nothing that they could do about their situation. I also explained that the shooter had killed himself. They did not believe me initially. Then they started to trust me and ask for assistance with crossing.

“Go to the light, join with your family. They are waiting for you with open arms.” ( I also used several ethnic statements that I am not at liberty to share with you at this moment). One of the spirits crossed over. I could feel their movement towards the light. Then another...then another...until only a few of the most angry ones were left. I asked them to release their anger, their hate, their fear and go to the light...I kept repeating to them that emotions are meant for the living since they were dead. “Release your anger...emotions are only for the living, not for the dead.” As they were making their way towards the light, I started to cry as I could sense that those who had crossed over were indeed, joining with their families! Finally, one or two were left and even they had joined with God!

I turned to Debbie and explained to her what I had experienced. She looked at me with such incredulity.“Why you?”, she asked. My reply was a simple, “I don't know...”. But the experience was neither a  hallucination, nor was it not true.

Before we get to the next incident of spirit rescue, I need to set the stage briefly so that you can understand why we were contacted. Since about 1995 we have been traveling to Toronto, Ont almost monthly. We would drive by the London, Ont exits on the expressway that runs between Michigan and Toronto, Ont and occasionally I would feel as if we were being “called”, if you will, by some unseen force. One day we decided to check out London, Ont for ourselves. We arrived at the hotel, unpacked, and decided to “hit the town”. London, Ont is a fairly small (that was about 11 years ago and now it has grown a good deal) city. While we were driving aimlessly around the town we discovered the London Museum of Archeology . The museum was built on the former site of a Native Canadian village. The problem was that the museum was displaying the remains of actual Native Canadians and they were none to pleased. We walked across the grounds, entered the museum and later decided to return to the grounds. There were paths at that time that would allow you to walk over different areas of the grounds, including down by the Thames River. Our two youngest children decided to walk in one direction and our eldest daughter and I walked in another direction. Celeste walked by herself and she seemed to be concentrating on her thoughts. I later asked her what was happening, and she told me that she had “met” the Shaman of the tribe. As I was walking a bit from Celeste my mind caught an image of a young child watching me from behind trees and around bushes. I shyly waived at him and told him that it was ok. I posed no direct threat to him or his people. He kept his distance.

The next day we decided to go back to the museum and see if we could locate the spirits once again. We walked around the grounds and I began to receive what I can only term as a form of telepathic communication from some source. Obviously it was from outside my body. The information that was received was both angry and yet, inquisitive. The spirits wanted to know just why all of these people were living on their land and why this building was here and why were they digging up their members bodies. The gist of the questions were “why”, “why”, “why”. I understood both their questions and their anger. I too, would be angry if a group of unknown people had invaded the space that they were living on land that they did not own and digging up the graves of my families.

I decided to take the approach of just being honest with the spirits outright and not hide anything from them. “The thing is that for these people, they are interested in knowing more about you, not only as a people, but as to what happened to you as a people. They are trained to study you and honor you as those who have lived here and preceded them.“ This was a bit much for the spirits as they became even more angry. Not at me, but at the museum staff for not really caring for their deceased. They spirits were right of course. The museum didn't give two hoots for some dead Indians. To the staff, the spirits represented only the dead. The long forgotten past. That which had nothing to do with the present. The oddest thing is that the staff was wrong in their disregard. I was then asked by the spirits if I would try to deliver a message to a member of the staff about the irritation of the spirits. I said sure and started to look for someone to deliver the message to.
I noticed a curator was doing some digging at a site looking for relics or whatever for the museum. I approached him. I briefly introduced myself and family and told him that we enjoy the grounds and the exhibits. He looked up and smiled at me and continued his work. “I was wondering if I could ask you about something”, I asked.
“Sure...” he replied.

“I was wondering if you have ever come across any negative feelings for the work that you are doing?“

“No.”, he replied.

“We were walking around the grounds and we have received what I can term as a form of communication from the dead Natives that are interred here. Have you ever heard of anything like this before?“ His answer almost blew me away...

“Sure...several people have mentioned to some of the workers saying that the Natives aren't happy and they would like us to stop.“ I listened to what the worker had to say. I could understand what he was saying (without words). Basically, he was saying that the dig was his income and also for the sake of science, the dig had to continue. The last half of the comment didn't gel with me as containing any truth. There could be a lot of work going on there that did not threaten the bodies of the dead spirits. There are countless digs across the country on previous Native land that have taken alternatives to digging up the bodies. The first half of the comment was from pure ego...his job had to be protected. Not any mention of the interrelationship between the dead and the living. But then, the guy does deal with the dead...that is part of his study.

As I ended the dialogue with the worker, I received the last part of a message from a spirit. “Huh...they care more about digging up the dead than they do about the living.“ WOW!

The next day we left London, Ont and did not return for some years.

In the beginning of March, 2005, I started to have what I can only term as “feelings” about returning to London, Ont. I felt that we were being called by the same deceased Native Canadians that we had paid a visit to some years earlier. Deb and I discussed this and we decided that we should go and find out just what it was that they wanted. It turns out that my suspicions were correct. These spirits were afraid of leaving their land. They were afraid that if they left, they might not be able to return to the land. (I don't fully understand this, but I guess it makes sense to them and that is all I need to know!)

We drove to London, Ont, found our hotel, checked in, make some other arrangements, and visited the site of the museum. This was winter and the museum was only open during the weekends. I don't know why, but it was. When we arrived at the site, I slowly drove the car into the parking lot and started to feel feelings of amazement. The sprits were amazed that we had actually come to visit them! We stayed for a few minutes and decided to return the next day early. After we had arrived back at the hotel and wolfed down our helpings of food that we had bought at “Swiss Chalet” and laid down to rest and watch some television. As I was sort of half laying down could sense the Natives dancing in the streets where they beloved Village once stood. I could see the outlines of the “longhouses” and “wigwams” that they lived in. I didn't know quite what t make of this scene of fierce dancing with scary masks. Later I understood through my Native American medium friend that what they were doing was trying to frighten off those white folks who had placed their homes in the middle of their Village!

The next day we arrived at the museum and once again was aghast at what we saw! The original longhouse had been dismantled and rebuilt but made a lot smaller from where it had once stood. Many things had been changed with little thought to the spirits of those who had lived there! I took some photographs and then we asked the spirits what it was that they needed to help them. Some of them came forward and told me that they had wished to know was what was going to happen to the land that their once proud Village had stood. There were hundreds, possibly even thousands of sprits who were waiting for some type of explanation.

Unfortunately, I had no assurance to give them. I could offer no guarantees. I started to explain that they were now dead and that their emotions would do them no good (since emotions only belong to the living). I explained that their Elders Village awaited them in the next world and that they should go towards the light and join with the Creator. “Go to the light and go to the Village and fires of your Fathers, Fathers, fathers...” Some started to leave. I could feel them making their way to the light. I could sense their spiritual energy crossing over. I was totally awed by this experience. “Emotions are only for the living, their is nothing left for you to accomplish here...go to the light and join with the Creator! You are no longer alive! Go to the Village of your Elders, elders, elders...find your family. They are waiting for you!” More went.

I asked the spirits if it were possible for us to take some of the land, place it in a small bottle and sent it to a friend of ours. They gave us the permission with the directive that we must offer them something in trade. Luckily, I had brought a tin of old tobacco that I still had some tobacco in. I walked to the spot where we had dug the tiny hole and I offered the tobacco to them thanking them for their gift. I spread the tobacco in the 4 sacred directions and then offered more for the other directions. I did not know this at the time, but when offering tobacco one starts with the 4 directions first and then move to the 3 other directions: the land beneath your feet, the sky and yourself. The last three I only learned this week while reading online.

This past Channukah I was told to give Deb a Native American drum. I didn't know why. I didn't question why. I only knew that I was told to do so and I did. Not knowing anything about Native drums, I spoke with some friends who were kind enough to explain the different styles and hides that go into drum making. I decided on a drum, paid for it and received it. During our Channukah gift giving, I presented the drum to Deb. She had no clue as to how to either play it or even hold it in her hand! That was fine. I knew that when the time came, she would know how to play.

It turns out that the Natives asked me to get her drum. I did. I handed it to Deb and she looked at me as if I was totally insane: “How do I play it?”

“I dunno..just play it...they will tell you what they want you to play”

Deb started out with a muffled sound...soon she broke into a regular beat. A beat that I had never heard at any of the Pow Wows that we have attended. She continued to play for a few minutes. She stopped. She had tears in her eyes. I thought that I understood. She was told how and what to play just what I had said! We stood at the place near the trees over looking the Thames River looking at the daily life of the Natives.

I am going to include Deb's narrative of the event. This is written is her own words:
                “Upon entering the street where the Museum of Archaeology is located, I
                 could feel many spirits. Mostly adults, they were glad to see we had come.
                 We weren't able to go onto the actual grounds as the area has been closed
                 down due to winter.
                 When we were leaving the parking lot, I had a feeling of heaviness on my chest,
                 sorrow from the Spirits. Because they had very little of their land was left. Now
                  there is only about 4-5 acres that was left intact. In earlier times, they had
                  HUNDREDS of acres to call their own. The heaviness lasted until we left the
                  As were driving down a street there was creek (which was then quite a river).
                  I could see many people fishing, gathering wood, children playing. These
                  were the happy times of these Native Canadians.
                  This morning we came back to the site. The Spirits were glad to see us back
                   to see the destruction that was done to their land. The many houses that were
                   built there, the destruction of the longhouse (that was rebuilt and then torn down),
                   the digging at the site of the longhouse. The anger is also from the many items
                   and bones taken from the site and not returned.

                  We walked around, as we did I saw two small leaves dancing in the gentle wind-they
                  were 2 young children playing and dancing in the grass. The girls were giggling and
                   they were floating. Then they just melted into time.

                   We walked to the edge of the gully and I saw a woodpecker. He didn't leave, just
                   kept on with his business.

                   The Spirits allowed us to take some soil from their land. In returned we placed
                    tobacco for the Spirits (using the 4 directions to represent the world and universe
                    and then scattering the tobacco around the area from where the soil was taken).

                    I played my drum and the Spirits seemed to be pleased. They thanked me for playing
                    with them.The drums the men were using were good size and the sounds were rich
                    and deep. The actual physical time of playing with them was short, but playing my drum
                     with them, time stood still.

                     The area of the land had 2 long houses with many smaller huts. In the center there
                      was a place for a large fire in which ceremonies took place.

                      The weather bring cool, the Natives were wearing buckskin clothes with beads of
                      necklaces with colors of reds, yellows, black.

                      They work together fishing, working with pelts. There was a loom that was being
                       worked with many colors of yarn, red, yellow, black and white.

                     The women were wearing buckskin dresses with buckskin boots. Beaded
                      necklaces. Their pigtails were lashed with pieces of long buckskin.

                      There were small fires going where the fish was being cooked for a meal. Women
                      milling grain. Families sharing food with others.

                       A couple women carrying their babies in a papoose on their backs.

                      I felt very privileged to be able to see in a part of their lives on this land.
                      The next day we left back for home.