Do you believe in ghosts? Why or why not? Has something personally happened to you that makes you feel the way you do? And if you do believe, what exactly do you think ghosts are?

I watched a fascinating film last night: “A Ghost Story.” Has anyone seen it? It takes a very interesting approach to the idea of ghosts in a traditional visual but quite an existential non-traditional way. Besides one of the best endings I’ve seen in cinematic times, the idea of time is explored. We think so linearly about time: beginning, middle, and end, that to ponder it this way is intriguing. The way the director creates this is brilliant. And like any really good movie, it has stuck with me, as in, I keep coming back to it, its idea and content. I recommend it.
In a fascinating article here by Live Science, they state: 
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“If ghosts are real, and are some sort of as-yet-unknown energy or entity, then their existence will (like all other scientific discoveries) be discovered and verified by scientists through controlled experiments — not by weekend ghost hunters wandering around abandoned houses in the dark late at night with cameras and flashlights… In the end (and despite mountains of ambiguous photos, sounds, and videos) the evidence for ghosts is no better today than it was a year ago, a decade ago, or a century ago.”

For the whole article, which is quite beautifully objective for a change, visit here: www.livescience.com/26697-are-ghosts-real.html

My mother used to espouse the existence of ghosts. She had two stories. One is too personal to share. But one she would tell us as kids was about the house in which she grew up. Each night, she said, a little old lady took her hand and walked her to bed. Every. Night. She said she later discovered who he woman was through research and pictures. Nothing horrific or terrifying. Just a woman who lived there a hundred years ago. Could my mother have seen pictures somewhere she didn’t remember? Had she heard a story in her youth? Or was there in fact a ghost.


I, myself, had a strange experience with a Ouija board. But the details are fuzzy, and I wonder to this day what really happened. Sometimes I wonder if I created the story from a real experience that, through embellishment and fabrication over the years, has blurred the truth of it. I’m honestly not sure. I don’t think I embellished at all. But to think otherwise, leaves me so baffled, I know of no other way. Even writing about it here frightens me.
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I invite anyone to share their views with me. Personal stories. Stories shared with you. But I guess the big question is: Does it even matter? For either they exist or they don’t. And really, what does knowing do to change that? ​