Listen to Spirits or Sleep?

My dear friend Kyoko and I are in Tetbury in the Cotswolds. I rented a little stone cottage that's over 250 years old. It’s tiny and spread over three levels, and it’s oh-so-cute. My little room has original stone walls and a low ceiling, with Kyoko's room located in the attic above me.

Last night, I woke soon after midnight, and the full moon shone through my window, casting a silver beam across the timber floor. I was in awe-- not just at the beauty of the scene but of me., There I was, lying in the dark on a full moon night in an old cottage, and I wasn’t scared. Not scared of the dark, my own shadow, or of ghosts. When did that happen?

This evening, as the sun was setting, I stepped onto the cobblestone street to stand on the corner, gazing up at the church and the old stone houses bathed in golden light, and listening to the cooing of pigeons around me. Then I noticed an elderly man a few steps away, doing the same thing. He said he was looking at the church and listening to the pigeons. He is 93 years old, and last year, he lost his wife after 72 years of marriage.

I invited him in for a cup of tea, and he, Kyoko, and I spent the evening listening to his memories of Tetbury, stretching back to his childhood. He spoke of his wife, the moment she died, and how her ashes are still at home because he hasn’t decided where to place them. I know he appreciated the chance to share that with me.

Now, freshly showered, in my pyjamas, and sitting up in bed, I find myself looking at the old stone wall between his house and mine. And I can’t help wondering—not about ghosts exactly, but whether his wife might come to tell me something she wants him to know. It feels too coincidental not to.

And so here I am, faced with a choice: to protect my energy by surrounding myself with white light and saying no to any spirit—or to remain open to her if she wishes to come through at 2 a.m., as they often do. The selfish part of me thinks, “Stay away and let me sleep in peace.” The compassionate part of me knows it might be something that helps him heal and work through his grief.

Regardless of my decision, writing this, I realise I’m no longer afraid of spirits. I know they aren’t here to harm or scare me; they have messages to pass on to the people they love, and because they know I can hear them.