凱思珀兒 Casper
The 善靈 friendly ghost who is my inner wise woman
I grew up watching TV drama series with my grandma, 阿婆Apo in Taiwan. Back then, there were only three state-sponsored channels. Programming began promptly at noon with the national anthem, ending at midnight. I remember a variety of themes in those series; however, whenever a ghost character appeared, she was inevitably sad, angry, and desperately seeking justice.
Those nights I slept with my 阿婆Apo (失禮，阿婆Apo). Her big wooden bed sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by armoires. Before lying down, she’d have me scratch her back with a long metal ruler. I’d start by arching the ruler, then, with the curved edge, firmly scrape down. She sighed in relief. I kept at it until all of her back was scratched, then began again—it took many passes over her rounded, leathery back before she felt satisfied.
No wonder I now obsess over precision straight edges, owning steel rulers of various lengths and units. I never understood how 阿婆Apo endured the intensity of a steel edge. When I get scrubbed at the Korean spa, I request the softest seshin mitt; otherwise, it’s too painful for my tender skin. How I miss those simple, intimate moments with 阿婆Apo.
One night, after our back scratch ritual, I lay awake listening to her Olympic-level snoring. I felt goosebumps, opened my eyes, and saw a female figure sitting at the foot of the bed. She combed her waist-length black hair and wore a long white gown, exactly like all the sad, angry ghosts I saw on TV. Fear paralyzed me. I tried to poke 阿婆Apo awake but failed. She continued snoring, loud as thunder.
Then, mysteriously, the female ghost disappeared.
Even after she left, I remained terrified. For the rest of my life, whenever I felt goosebumps, I thought of that ghost.
Fast forward to 2018. I was overworked and unhappy. I looked up workshops at the Omega Institute and found one that seemed interesting, but the accommodations were sold out. When I told Maciej I wasn’t going, he jumped on the internet and found an Airbnb for the following weekend. I rechecked the schedule. “Ignite Your Intuition“ caught my eye. If I can’t even choose a workshop, this might be the right course to connect me to my intuition.
One hundred seventeen women were at this workshop. I learned the teacher was a well-known author and psychic medium. Almost everyone there had either read her book or worked with her to connect with a loved one. I’d never heard of her. I didn’t even know what psychic mediums do.
Laura announced she would guide us in group meditation. My first thought: how can I possibly clear my mind with 117 women here? So much energy, so much noise. Still, I was grateful to be away from my normal—the constant anxiety of not having done enough—so I willingly participated in anything that might relax and distract me.
To my utter surprise, I descended into a deep trance right away. Visions appeared. I stood in a dark forest at dusk. It was a little eerie at first, but soon I saw glints of a campfire. I walked toward the source of light and found myself in a clearing, warming up next to the fire pit.
Then she appeared: the same long-black-haired woman wearing a long white gown. This time, though, I knew immediately—she was my inner wise woman.
Even in the middle of this deep meditation, I laughed at myself. Poor little five-year-old me had been terrified of my inner wise woman!
She knew the question that troubled me most: why hadn’t we conceived a baby? Her answer: “You are meant to be the child this lifetime, not the mother. You have been a mother in other lifetimes.” I didn’t quite understand what she meant, but I came out of that meditation with a sense of relief.
The next day, Laura handed each of us a metal spoon as we arrived. When we all sat down, she explained that we would bend our spoons with our minds. She asked us to trust the process and simply will the spoon to bend. I held my spoon firmly in one hand, but nothing seemed to happen. I looked around and saw other women exchange incredulous glances.
Someone waved her spoon in the air. Another silently laughed as she faked bending the spoon with her fingers. Then we were encouraged to chant out loud: “Bend, bend, bend!” I felt the energy intensify. It was so palpable that sitting still became uncomfortable, so I got up to walk a bit.
As I rounded the last corner back toward my seat, suddenly I felt my spoon handle melt in my hands. My left hand held the tip of the handle while my right hand held the bowl. The straight steel handle had bent all the way, so the whole utensil now looked like a squashed S.
I sat down feeling dazed and a little high. Laura asked for volunteers to show their spoons. Twisted, knotted, curled, and squashed spoons were exhibited. No two alike.
Ever since then I’ve connected with loved ones on the other side, including cats. I receive support whenever I ask for guidance, and never again felt fear, only love, for ghosts.
This journey from fear to love, from seeing ghosts as threats to recognizing them as guides, taught me that our deepest pain often holds our greatest wisdom. The ghost I feared was actually my inner wise woman, waiting to befriend me, then guide me. Similarly, chronic physical pain often point to unconscious contraints in our subconscious, waiting to be dissolved, yearning to be freed.