Bowie Major Tom

The year started with my hero vanishing into space. Others followed, creating a vacuum where my teenage soul used to be. I defined myself with “Major Tom” and every song on Purple Rain. When people die, my beliefs tell me that they are still ‘here,’ just on the other side of a thin veil. I didn’t know them, of course; it wasn’t their physical demise that slammed me into shock. It was the past that disappeared. The past was always already gone, so what do I mourn? I’m not sure. I don’t know.

The news in 2016 just got worse and worse. Syria. Trump. Russian hacking. Climate changing faster and faster. Cancer diagnosis in the family. Depression and other issues surfacing like dead fish in a pond. It seemed as if the downturn in my mood paralleled the swirling misery of the election and the general feeling of anxiety that permeates everything concerning human affairs.

There were the highlights, as well: I became the Project MATCH Faculty Coordinator and was able to assist in the training of some very talented and smart interns. I felt that I was making some real progress towards the betterment of education for the students in the LA Community College District. It was the best summer in a long time. We were finally able to buy a house, up in the mountains of Santa Susana. In the morning, I no longer hear the 101 Freeway blaring through the windows. I hear an anemic rooster, toads and owls hooting in the distance. I feel protected by the giant boulders and ancient oak trees. The spirits around this area are powerful and very, very old. This has allowed me peace of mind, even as the world falls into pieces.

This is where the knot is. I have a peaceful environment in which to contemplate all the things I didn’t understand as a younger version of myself. My bubble of ignorance burst three times: in 1997, 2002 and 2012. I was told I was going to die from a progressive disease in ’97 (that turned out to be a misdiagnosis, but I lived with it for almost a year), my ex husband moved out and divorced me in 2002 and in 2012 my kid had some serious issues which I am not at liberty to discuss in detail. After 2012, we moved three times in three years. The idea that things get easier and more understandable as you get older is bullshit. I understand less now and everything is more confusing and complicated than it was at any other time in my past.

My nickname in Middle School was “Polly Pure”. I was always told how naive I was, how easy to dupe and fool. I assumed everybody was nice and good, and that the world was always moving towards a better, more perfect state. I believed in constant spiritual progression: all things were destined to achieve perfection. I was such an idiot that I actually thought I had achieved enlightenment, somewhere around 2010 or 2011. I truly believed that I was on the fast track to Paradise, Oneness with the Brahma, the Source, whatever. I resent the fact that the world showed me otherwise.

The world showed me that I was (and am) a spiritual infant, and the state of affairs on our planet is regressing. Not only are we not moving forward, we are traveling backwards, undoing what little good we had managed to accomplish. As for people: nope, they are not inherently good. They are propelled by insecurities and fears that drive them to do terrible things to themselves and others, all in the name of protecting fragile egos. My entire world view was based on progress and enlightenment, and that paradigm has been shot to hell. Therefore, my view of time has been turned upside down. The arrow of time from now into the future is pure illusion, along with the idea of future perfection. We go in circles, falling backwards, struggling to break out of the present only to fall into the past and repeat, repeat, repeat.

All progress is individual, I fear. And it is not necessarily accomplished in this life. The arc of progress is LONG and requires so much more time than I thought, if such an idea exists at all. I would like to think that there is ultimate transformation after X number of lives wind themselves down, but I don’t know. I just don’t know. Maybe it’s two steps forward, one step back, and I’m in the middle of the one step back. One thing I do know:

Polly Pure was beaten with a barbed-wire covered bat and lies bleeding and dying in the ashes of her naive dreams for the world. I am waiting for Major Tom and Prince’s elevator to take her up, to be saved from her mistakes and her lost hopes.

–Kirsten A. Thorne, PhD/PWH




NOTE: As in all my discussions on Christianity and its beliefs, my intent is to link certain ideas regarding Biblical theology with current theories on the afterlife. There is NO evangelical purpose here; I am not trying to convince anybody of the truth of one religion over any other. I simply write what I know.

There are a great many Biblical stories that upset me. One of them is contained in Revelations and concerns the Apocalypse. The verses have to do with ‘being awake’ and aware as if you were protecting yourself from a ‘thief in the night.’ When the end of the world comes, one of every two people will be ‘taken up’ or rescued from a dying world. This is the ‘Rapture,’ which I simply cannot understand as something literal. The idea that these verses concern a literal end of the world where people actually rise to Heaven has created much confusion: there are entire cults built around this idea of Apocalypse, and as they patiently await the end of the world, they are also waiting for the second arrival of the Savior. This too strikes me as allegorical and symbolic. It also occurs for me as a lesson on time, and how we are tricked into thinking salvation is a future act for which we are supposed to wait.

Last Sunday, a guest pastor at Saint Francis Episcopal explained these troubling stories in a way that links them to quantum physics and human psychology, although not explicitly. The question he asked us was painfully simple: “Have you ever had something happen to you that made you feel that your world had just ended?” Most of us can answer with a yes. When my grandmother died, there was a sudden rupture in my life that would forever change my existence. There was the world with Nana, and the world without her. I was different in each of those worlds. There are many examples of this: when my first husband told me that he was no longer in love with me, I felt that I died that evening. Of course, I woke up the next morning, but I was not the same person nor was my world the one I knew before. Everything seemed unfamiliar, as if I had just started over somewhere strange where I had to learn new rules and build another life.

You do not have to stop breathing to die. You can die to your old life and wake up to a different one many times before you lose your physical body. I suspect that losing your physical existence won’t be much different than losing your husband, your grandmother or another important person that has defined so much of you. You will wake up from your physical death as you wake up from an emotional or spiritual death and have to start over.

The ‘many worlds’ theory in quantum physics states that there are many dimensions of existence (perhaps uncountably many) where we exist in slightly different circumstances. There is a universe where Nana still is my grandmother and where I never endured a divorce. There is a universe where I wrote this post and one where I did not. Although there are logical problems with this interpretation of reality, and I don’t necessarily buy into it, the idea that multiple dimensions of reality intersect with this one explains a great deal of paranormal phenomena. Ghosts, EVP, NDE, OBE and so on might simply represent interactions between dimensions of reality where other beings are living out their lives and where we occasionally slip into a universe where the rules governing reality are vastly different.

The Apocalypse, then, is about the ending of YOUR world, not all of Creation. When your life utterly falls apart, you have died to your old reality. What will you do then? Do you find salvation? Or do you turn away from the Divine Principle and end up alone, isolated and abandoned? You have a choice regarding which world you inhabit: in one, you have reconnected to God and life; in the other, you have become a shadow, a lost soul in the darkness. Perhaps in some worlds, we are lost and in others, we are saved. Which one is the Ultimate Reality? Not all of these universes can be coequal. I suspect there is only One World where we live out our true and eternal lives, but until then, we are fragmented in infinite ways.

Our task, then, is to find the unification of these disparate selves living out multiple lives. This is not about waiting for a Savior to pull us together and raise us to Heaven. Heaven, Hell, Salvation and damnation are always happening right now. They are not ‘in time,’ but ‘of time’. All aspects of our soul and spirit are eternal–nothing concerning salvation can happen in the future, because past and future rely upon time to have any meaning. We are outside of time. The Apocalypse is now, and has always been now; salvation is now, and has always been now. There are many worlds where we exist simultaneously: in some, we are moving towards our ultimate salvation and integration (we are making the right choices); in others, we are moving away from God and spirit into oblivion. Fragmentation of our souls and spirits is the enemy. Integration of our essence within the multiverse is what saves us and recreates us as a whole being.

Jesus, then, isn’t waiting to show up again. He’s already here. He has ALWAYS ALREADY been here. The Second Coming isn’t about Him, but about us: do we make our way towards Salvation, or not? That’s the religious understanding. The scientific one is similar: time is not an independent quality of the universe; everything that has happened, is happening or will happen is actually occurring right now! Actions, lives, events, and simply spread out in space-time. There is no ‘before’ or ‘after’. Only now. Every potential you have as a human being is ‘out there’ for you to discover–but to see it, you need a new and radically different perspective. And that is where the Divine Principle comes in, or whatever you wish to call it. You don’t achieve that kind of radical vision and perspective without serious transformation; how you discover that transformation that gives you the gift of true sight is the purpose of your live(s).

–Kirsten A. Thorne, Ph.D.

I am completely exhausted and overwhelmed. While Trump and Clinton battle it out, it feels like my immortal soul is crying. I am terrified that a man like Trump might be my president. I wonder how to escape the country if he wins. Where would I go? I just bought a house, for Lord’s sake. Trump’s side feels the same way about Clinton. Other thoughts: Administrators don’t like me. I always end up on the wrong side of politics. Always. I take everything too seriously and end up confused and lost. Why are things this way? I even wonder about Jan Crouch, the televangelist you see next to me. She has pink hair, crazy eyelashes and cries a lot about Jesus. Does pink make you more holy as a woman? I wonder. My pink lips are meant to honor Jan Crouch and her hyper feminized version of Christian womanhood. Sometimes, I just want to go pink and cry over Jesus and let everything else disappear. My life would be easier.

Forget Trump. Forget politics. Forget the thousands of tiny miseries piercing my heart. I just want to love Jesus and radiate pink. It seems simpler, easier to understand, clearer and somehow, purer than everything else swirling about me in the abyss that is the election. I sense, however, that Jesus doesn’t want me to be simple, radiate pink and cry over him. I think He wants me to fight like hell until I create the country I want to live in. But I’m so tired. So tired. It doesn’t matter–I have to haul myself out of bed and head back to the trenches, because that what true spirituality is: the fight of your life, every day.

Blessing to all of you.



Many Lives in One

Kitty with SkullOne of the intense realizations post 50 is that, in many ways, you have died to one stage of your life and started another. Turning 50 is shocking on so many levels, but not for the reasons I thought. I assumed that I would be ‘old’, whatever that means. I assumed I would be unattractive. I believed that I would be ‘settled’ and ‘rooted’, firmly down life’s path towards some expected destination. My life, by this time, was going to be predictable. I figured I would be struggling with the physical infirmities of what I imagined to be ‘older people’s issues’.

My life is utterly unpredictable. I am not settled. I started a new job (without leaving the main one), will be moving soon to the wilderness, and am no longer raising a child (I’m raising an adult at the moment). My physical issues are much improved from when I was 30. I was sicker as a child and as a young adult than I am now. I don’t look young but I don’t look old; it’s still the 30 year old’s face plus a little gravity. There have been many surface changes, like waves that pass over the ocean, but the deep water remains unchanged.

I’m no different from who I was at 30. My circumstances have changed many times over. I can list all the stuff that ‘happened’, such as divorce, multiple moves and job changes, loved ones that passed on, serious illnesses, assorted disappointments and traumas, but I realized yesterday (while on a spiritual trek in the hills) that those lists we make that are supposed to mark the difference between ‘youth’ and ‘age’ are meaningless. Even the changes in my face and body that signal the passage of time are meaningless. I am the same, essential personality that I was 20, even 30 years ago.

The fact that my personality and identity remain unchanged leads me to believe that who we are is not subject to time at all. I expect at 80, I will have this same realization. Time wears away the physical body but does nothing to one’s spirit (unless disease has taken hold of the brain), and ultimately, we identify ourselves with that core personality, that soul or spirit that is ‘us’, and not with the texture of our skin or the speed of our gait. My perspective on this issue is, perhaps, different from most people’s. I was a sick kid. I couldn’t run without asthma or play outside without severe allergies. I’ve had multiple surgeries for various issues that have left me without the illusion that youth equates health and energy.

Since youth was pretty much wasted on me–and I spent so much of it trying to survive physically and emotionally–I feel that it’s only now that I am experiencing what most people consider ‘youth’. It’s an odd feeling. The culture tells me that I’m ‘over the hill’ and old, but my mind, body and heart tell me that I’m young for the very first time. Youth involved tremendous suffering: the chronic fears and insecurity, the anxiety about relationships, the trauma over not following the timeline for maturity, the incessant lack of confidence, the struggles and drama with friendships and family . . . the list goes on and on. While I am not free of all of that yet, I can see freedom just ahead; and I have moments of liberation now that were impossible then.

There is something about us that simply does not age. We are both material and spiritual, and even though I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: the spiritual does not age or die. It is not subject to the forces that work on our material bodies. My memories of past lives are so strong, and have so decisively affected my identity in this life, that I know I’ll be back around. I have so much work to do still; I am still not fully ‘conscious,’ in the sense that I have tremendous amounts of personal growth to do and can’t imaging being ‘done’ by the time I die. That is the liberation, though: I don’t have to have attained enlightenment in this life. I will have more. As many as it takes.

That knowledge takes off the pressure. I can enjoy this youth that I’m experiencing without thinking that I need to ‘move on’ or ‘progress’ or be more adult. I don’t know how long this weird back to the future feeling will last. One serious illness and it’s over, I know all too well. But for now, God has allowed me to be a young adult again. I’ve lived my life in reverse. I started so old, so very old, and now I’m growing backwards into my 30s and 20s, which makes no sense. Actually, it makes perfect sense, but it’s hard to explain.

Time is truly a human construct. We need to measure time, but we are measuring something that has no independent existence. We define it by association: I have loose skin under my neck, therefore time has passed. My right hip hurts, therefore it has been 30 years since I was young. We associate various physical transformations with time passing in a straight line, and so we divide up our experiences by years and decades. This is truly arbitrary, however. The ‘thing’ we’re measuring DOES NOT EXIST. It shows up in certain formulas in physics, but it can travel either direction and the formulas still work (e.g., relativity).

Associating life events with time passing in one particular direction is simply a convenience that allows us to live lives that seem ordered and organized according to a simple principle. However, we assign damaging values and beliefs to these events that happen: I “AM” 50 or 60 or 70 is such a strange way to identify yourself. You are stating that your identity is somehow defined by a measurement of a quality that has no objective reality. It’s like saying, I AM 360 seconds; I AM 14 calendars; I AM this intersection of space-time. Why do we take such a vital verb–to be–and tie it to a system of measurement?

There is no objective meaning to a number that measures existence as ‘you’. ‘YOU’ have always existed somehow, and will always exist somehow. There is no effective measurement for infinity or eternity. We are a deeply materialist culture. We are prisoners to appearances. We fear death because we refuse to look beyond death. If we did, we would see existence stretching out before and beyond us: we are still who we always have been. This might terrify someone who hasn’t learned to love life or love who she is; but there is time to learn this, too.

I started this post thinking that I was in my second half of life. But I think that I already lived the second half. Welcome to the first half, Kirsten.



Ghost children

Marsha and I heard the voice again. It sounded like a child singing a tuneless melody somewhere in the vast, dark hallways of the old hospital. We recorded it and played it back later, many, many times. That night, as we strained to hear the child’s voice, Marsha became very, very sad and asked, “why would God allow a child to be alone in a place like this?” I came up with some theory of consciousness, reassuring her it was just a fragment of a mind, lost in time and space, not a whole personality, not a person as we understand people to be. She didn’t respond. We continued to listen for the oddly terrifying sounds echoing in dark. Why was I so frightened, if this was a ‘child’ spirit, or even a fragment of one?

In other lost places we heard ‘her’. The same, sing-song voice, sometimes attempting to speak, sometimes singing that same, wandering tune. We had many recordings of that voice before we started to ask ourselves who this might be. This child seemed to be traveling with us from one site to another. She started showing up even in our homes. I have recordings of her in the living room of our old house. Had she followed me home? I have recordings of her at Marsha’s house, too. It was always the same pitch, the same tone, the same vocal pattern. I asked many questions of myself, but they were always the wrong questions. “Who is this poor, lost soul?” “What can I do to help her?” “How can I ‘send her to the light’?”

My life during this time period was falling apart at a dizzying pace. There was financial distress, physical illnesses, mental illness, job loss and painful ruptures in my closest relationships. I continued recording voices and communicating with the spirits until, gradually, I realized that I was probably not communicating with spirits only. The answer hit me fairly recently: God would most certainly not condemn a child to eternity in a dark vacuum of empty space in a mental hospital or a jail.

ghost children 5

This plaintive voice was produced by something with evil intent. I won’t debate the existence of evil or even that entity we call the ‘devil’, because I’ve done that before in previous posts. Evil has certain characteristics that are now quite clear to me. It disguises itself as the one thing you can’t resist, whatever it is that involves you emotionally; it then confuses you, causing you to doubt the existence of an all-loving God; after that, it chips away at your life relentlessly until you are at your breaking point. When you reach that soul-crushing moment, the decision is yours: you either humble yourself completely and give yourself–heart and soul–to who you understand God to be, OR, you continue to pursue those practices, beliefs and values that led you to self destruct.

There was no little girl, crying in the dark. The devil found an ingenious way to draw us all in, to make us doubt and question everything good and holy in the world. I went back to these accursed spaces and places without giving myself completely to God first. I made myself available to the confusion and manipulation of evil. I allowed evil to lead me further and further down the dark hallways of my soul until I was in communication with something that wanted to kill my spirit. Don’t talk to me about ‘coincidences’; during this time, evil tried to hurt my own child. That’s when I drew the line. No one and nothing hurts my child.

The result of my brush with ultimate darkness was illumination. I understood how evil operates in the world: it pretends always to be something else, something attractive, something you really, really want. It often seems logical, understandable and promising. It justifies its existence. It makes people rally around it. It loves the violence, hatred, misery and suffering that it produces. Most people don’t see it for what it really is; they think its presence is natural, necessary and inevitable. Evil appears to everyone, regardless of race, religion, ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation or any other identifying characteristics. It worms its way into politics, culture, social media, news media, institutions; it’s everywhere.

You can recognize it by its effects on you and your loved ones. If you feel crazy, disoriented, confused, aggressive, even violent: it owns you . . . or it’s starting to. Be very, very careful before you give in to hatred and anger. It may feel righteous. It may feel really, really good on a basic, instinctual level; but trust me. It lies. It will find a way to destroy you, and you may not see how it works on you, changing you, hurting you, creating divisions and dissent.

ghost children 6

God does not condemn child spirits to the dank misery of the worst places on Earth. God does not play with your emotions or hurt your family and friends. God waits for us to fall on our knees and ask for love, for help, for light, for hope. We can spin forever in a web of insanity, or we can break free and admit that we don’t know what we think we know. Love someone today who you have not dared to love before, and you will see evil twist and scream in pain. Love like you have never loved before, and your spirit will forever be in the Light, blessed for all eternity.

In peace,

Kirsten A. Thorne, PhD/PHW


BOOKS to read

The above photograph was taken in my office. There are several things I could point out here: I am bordering on official hoarder status; at least half of these books are on the general subject of the ‘paranormal’; I have a morbid fascination with death; and maybe it’s time to buy another bookcase.

The reason I include this photograph has to do with some recent Facebook (ugh) fights among minor celebrities in the paranormal, and how we might avoid them in the future. These fights are typically about the same general issues, namely:

  • Who is and is not an ‘impostor’ (translation: who does and does not have the academic credentials, experience and training to make any definitive statements on the existence of psi effects) in the general field of paranormal investigations;
  • Who is a celebrity-seeking, arrogant, self-serving megalomaniac and who is a genuine person/researcher/investigator;
  • Who is flaky and New Age and who is a real scientist (in other words: who functions as a medium/psychic or anyone who uses their intuition as a tool for divining information from the non-material realm).

I have a unique position in all of this infighting. I have academic credentials, but not in the sciences (Humanities, Literature and Languages); I was courted along with the other PHW by Hollywood for a brief time, and I did not refuse the attention. I could be accused of chasing celebrity for a couple of years, but that was a difficult time fraught with self doubt and the general feeling that I was betraying myself. I have been criticized for abandoning the Scientific Method in favor of New Age chicanery, because I discovered some intuitive abilities that allowed me to garner verifiable information from non-local, non-material sources (read: ghosts). However, to my knowledge, nobody has labeled me an egomaniac, a narcissist, or an arrogant twit.

Why all of this ugliness in the paranormal? It comes down to one word: EPISTEMOLOGY. Roughly speaking, the term refers to “ways of knowing.” How do we know what we think we know, and how to we communicate it? With what authority do we make statements such as “I have contacted the dead, and this is what they had to say”? Do we pretend to speak for everyone, or simply for ourselves? Is our “knowing” the truth about life after death based on our training in the hard and/or soft sciences? Is there any academic grounding to what we are claiming? Are we our own scientists? How do we prove that we are using a universally accepted methodology for collecting our EVP and other anomalous information? How do we interpret that information? Why should anybody else believe that our interpretations are correct? Why should we believe that someone is incapable of fraud, exaggeration, misrepresentation or simple self delusion?

Ways of knowing:  What seems so clear cut is anything but. Why do people NEVER, and I mean NEVER, listen to my damn audio clips where I state, breathlessly, that I have caught paranormal voices of great import? The answer is simple: other investigators weren’t there, they didn’t record it, they may not trust my methods, they don’t believe that there aren’t one hundred alternate explanations for what I think I’ve caught. My anomalous information is PERSONAL. The audio clips did not enjoy the blessing of any institutional controls. In the end, the general field of the paranormal seems almost unknowable in any absolute sense, even with the backing of academia. That makes it all the more imperative to read and study what others have to say on the subject.

All you can do is read. Then, read more. You can start with the books below, but there are hundreds to choose from. Before we can blithely expect others to ‘believe’ us and take our ‘evidence’ as truth, we have to have a very solid grounding in the work that others have done before us. Education is the only route out of the maze we are caught in as investigators. The insults, mud-slinging and ugly accusations will continue as long as we ask each other to ‘trust’ us, to ‘respect our authority’ and to believe that we really, truly know what we are doing; what we should be doing is engaging in conversations on the previous and ongoing research that scientists/academics/professional mediums and others are engaged in, UNDER and VIA the controls that academic institutions impose. Failing that, we should at least be talking to one another. We aren’t speaking to each other; we aren’t learning from each other. In general, we stake our territories and defend them as if our work were under attack.

But our ‘work’ means nothing if it is carried out in isolation.

–Kirsten A. Thorne, PhD/PHW

Books to read 2

kirsten with skulls

Kirsten 51

As I scroll through Facebook, I notice yet another paranormal investigator suffering through difficult circumstances; not in and of itself unusual, but the comments indicate concern that the nature of spiritual work elicits too much pain and creates the necessary conditions for tragedy. We always wonder: is what we do ripping apart our lives?

There is no way to prove causality here; I can only speculate based on my experience. As a group, we do seem to have more personal tragedy than your average folk. It comes in many forms, but often our ailments have a strong, psychological and emotional basis. This doesn’t surprise me, I suppose, because we are opening ourselves up to the invisible world, and we have no idea who or what inhabits that world. We probably ‘talk’ to many killers, rapists, sadists, psychos and demons on a regular basis without realizing it. Or, worse, we know we’re dealing with truly horrible entities, but we talk to them anyway, because, hey it’s fun . . . I guess??

I have long struggled with why we keep serving as mediums and channels for anyone who comes along, or for anyone who happens to be passing through, when would NEVER do that in our material life. Imagine heading off to ‘communicate’ with the worst criminals in a penitentiary–we don’t do that for obvious reasons, but it’s OK on an investigation because we think that the invisibility and subtle communications from the spirit world somehow mitigate the emotional damage that they could cause, but that really isn’t the case. The pain that they inflict on us–whether intentional or not–builds over time. It’s a slow accumulation of human (and sometimes non-human) misery that sticks to us like a draining and depressing residue. No wonder we get sick, both physically and emotionally.

I have limited my investigations drastically over the last few years. Now, I go mostly to be with the friends I have made; to be in their company makes me happy. So called “ghost hunting” does not really make me happy, ever since I realized that what we’re doing is as real as it gets. For a long time, the paranormal investigator isn’t really sure that this whole “spirit world” concept is genuine. So, we spend months or years attempting to convince ourselves that were not just playing around in the dark and scaring ourselves. It’s an adrenaline filled rush when you don’t really believe in ghosts but something weird is happening around you. It was much more fun when I wasn’t sure I was actually contacting anything; then, I had the excuse that I had to continue to compile evidence for the afterlife, so I needed to go out often and stay out late.

Now, of course, I have no such doubts and haven’t for a long, long time. It’s been three years since the investigation at the Episcopal Church that was so intense and provided so much evidence for the afterlife that I declared my need to compile evidence over. In the last three years, my main goal is to hang out with my favorite people. Sure, I do still get that thrill when someone seems to be making contact, when the Ghost Radio starts talking sense and the little, green dots populate my Ghost Radar Legacy and the words start showing a thematic relationship. I don’t like, however, the ghost bullies who trap others with them in their hell and scratch my friends (or me). I suppose I’ve learned to protect myself, and that has been a very valuable lesson indeed.

Those who stop investigating altogether are simply tired of exposing themselves to spiritual pain, or perhaps they can no longer protect themselves due to their own traumas. When your life seems to be spinning out of control, one has to wonder how the late night investigations in traumatized places might be contributing to the personal chaos. I completely understand why people walk away or take long breaks. I am not there yet, and I doubt I will ever completely give up such a fascinating and attractive quest. I am careful, though, much more careful than I am with the living. Speaking of which . . .

How DO I protect myself from the unpleasant and destructive people still inhabiting their bully-bodies??

So: answer me, please! Do you agree with what I’m saying here? Are you still compiling evidence? If so, why? What are you looking for? Please leave me some comments!

–Kirsten A. Thorne