The essence of a place blossoms or decays by the actions, of its people, past and present. It is filled by echoes of complex human interactions. The passing of time adds layers of human cross-pollination. Some positive, loving and happy. Others scarred by conflict, pain even death. And so it is for my friend at Jenks lake.
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| Jenks lake is located on that back side of the San Bernardino Mountains From San Bernardino (10 fwy) to Ca 38 Just go up the mountain on 38, about 45minutes, turn right at the Jenks Road exit |
Robert told me of his gift, hearing conversations when no one is around and often seesing shapes and silhouettes in the dark forest. When I asked him why he enjoys being alone at the lake, he told me that he is not alone; he senses many spirits, vitality and unexplained forces all around the lake. Robert has accepted that he has a special relationship with the enigmatic.
On a particular cloudy and rainy day, Robert invited me to fish with him. There were only two other souls present, foolish enough to brave the inclement elements rain, wind and cold. This type of weather, according to my friend, is supposed to be the best for fishing. So we went searching for his favorite spot.
As we were crossing the parking lot, a sudden chill seemed to grab hold of Robert. "Did you feel that," he asked. "Feel what?", I answered. "That sudden chill...it made the hair on back of my neck stand up". " I didn't feel a thing," I answered. We continued walking along the bank of the lake to his spot. I noticed that every few yard he would turn as if to see if someone was following us. Finally we arrived at the spot and began preparing our fishing poles and casting our lines into the water. We opened our folding chairs and sat down to drink some hot tea.
After a long period of silence, Robert told me that a few weeks back he had been startled by apparition of a young woman. She materialized in a alluring white dress and veil with gold trim, in the style of wedding dresses worn by women from wealthy families in eastern countries. Her radiant olive skin contrasted beautifully with the rays of the sun peeking through the morning mist. "I thought she was speaking to me but I could not hear a sound". I asked him what else happened. "Nothing, after we scrutinized each other, she just passed me by and disappeared through there", he said pointing to the shadows of the thick tall pine trees surrounding the lake. "Now that I think about it", he mused,"she didn't appear to be walking, it was more like gliding close to the ground. " "When I reached the waters edge, I looked for her but she was nowhere to be seen," he added with a trembling voice. I could not believe what he was telling me. This rational man whom I have known for over 40 years, who always questioned everything and dissected every argument or thesis, was telling me that he was left aghast by an apparition.
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| I showed this picture to Bob to see if I could jog his memory. He said the dress looked similar but the face was covered with a veil and she was not a Catrina |
I informed Robert that I had read that at times the spirits of the dead are nostalgic about places they visited when they were alive. They make their way to earthly places that gave them pleasure. At times without realizing it, they become visible to friendly, kind persons who also have an affinity for the locale. I asked Bob if he remembered any particular scent, color, symbol or feeling. He was not sure but he told me that he began having dreams of orchids and started growing them in his greenhouse. It became obvious to me that he was being earnest about the apparition. Orchids, especially wild ones, it is said, are the flowers of the soul. Their scent attracts lost souls.
My intrigue with my friend's account of the lady in white led me to consult with a relative who has studied this phenomena. It is believed that at the time of death, the soul begins its journey or birth in another plane. Hence the importance of correct placement of the body during burial ceremonies. The body must be placed correctly, taking into account the four cardinal points. The head is always to the west where the sun sets or dies. The feet are positioned towards the east where the sun rises, marking the life force. The correct position is with the left side to the north, cold and the right side south, warmth.
Consequently when a person dies and is properly buried the soul lives happily in its new plane. However, when a person has died through foul play and the body is haphazardly buried, the soul is not able to find its way home and it begins seeking assistance by making themselves visible to whom they perceive to be a kindred spirit. They do this, anticipating to entice a mortal to follow them to where the body lies or is buried in the hope that you will help them find their way home, in their new plane.
I urged Bob to consider this and to help this poor soul. He asked, "Why me?" I reminded him of his relationship with the supernatural, his preference for lonely dark placed, his ability to listen to conversations when one is around his receptive nature of shadows and moving silhouettes.I suggested to him that he must take incumbency for his special gift and do what is right, oblige "the lady in white". A lost soul looking for help to find her way. The body probably met foul play or was in an accident somewhere in the forest and her spirit is entrapped to area about the lake.
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| I showed Bob a print of this famous painting, Dream of a Sunday in Alameda Park, by Diego Rivera, one of Mexico's greatest muralist in the attempt to shake his recollection of the woman at the lake. He said no, but it did remind him of another woman he knew very well, whom he considers to be a modern day Catrina. By the way, Bob looks very much like the rendering of the artist standing to the right of la Catrina ( the lady in white) |
