Scott at Augoeides drew my attention to an adorable article about an English family that goes ghost hunting together. Which I find very cute.

And I’m glad he did because I would otherwise have never found it as I don’t ever read the Metro on the tube (because it’s shit and because commuting is valuable magic time).

If Scott hadn’t found the article then I probably would not have plucked up the courage to tell my own orb story.

It has taken this long because orbs are decidedly uncool. Scoffed at. Derided. An obvious example that there are still morons in the world willing to believe that literally anything -even a simple mechanical failure- is a sign that their loved ones and pets are doing okay and they’re all genuinely interested in the new couch you bought.

In case you can’t tell, my orb story is a moral tale. A fable almost. Because my orb story taught me an important lesson about challenging assumptions.

It’s from my recent trip to Cornwall where we visited the sacred site of St Nectan’s Kieve.

You see, my mother (pictured) is an extremely proficient energy healer and channel. So she’s big into the practices that I may have once in my meanspirited youth referred to as either “ladyboy magic” or “cupcake wizardry”. (Suddenly now “cupcake wizardry” sounds unbelievably awesome. And “ladyboy magic” sounds like… Actually, never mind.)

Anyway, so my mother has the kind of magical adventures that most of us can only dream of. Hanging with Sai Baba and the Dalai Lama (not at the same time because this isn’t a walks-into-a-bar joke), Aboriginal Women’s Magic, New Zealand mountaintop portal retreats, energetically communicating with fat tigers possibly against their will (don’t pretend you’re not clicking that link), solsticing at Stonehenge, swimming with whales in Tonga… Proper global psychonaut stuff.

She has also only recently upgraded from being the defiant owner of the World’s Shittest Digital Camera.

When she asked if I wanted to see her orb photos from Tonga I was like “umm… Okay.”

I take a look. “Well, a couple of things. Your camera is shit. Your shit camera has its flash turned on. You’re in a cave so it’s dark. The cave is tidal so it’s wet and salty. Also sand is reflective.”

I have a film degree and I work in television. I know about this stuff. Note that this is literally the only situation you will ever encounter in life where having a film degree can give you the upper hand in an argument. (And working in television confers no advantage in any argument. If anything it works against you.)

So there we are, clambering up the valley toward the kieve. This is very definitely a Holy Place. You can feel it all around you. My mother says “we’ll get some good orb shots”. Of course we will. It’s a waterfall. In a shady ravine. But you won’t get them on my camera. My camera is awesome and I spent three years learning how to use one just like it.

We arrive at the waterfall. I start taking photos. No orbs.

Mum stands in front of the waterfall with her new and only slightly less shit digital camera. Now, the energy coming off this waterfall is amazing. You could ‘see’ all kinds of things bathing/baptizing in it.

I watch as she takes the photo and waits for the image to load on her camera’s LCD screen. Her face falls a bit. Nothing. I don’t like it when her face falls. I get that automatic ‘chest pang’ reaction we all immediately get when we see a loved one upset. I feel this is significant for what happens next.

My mother announces she is going to call them in for another shot. As she does this I get an abrupt out-of-nowhere message: Take the photo. Proper full-auditory, ladies-and-gentlemen-John-Edward stuff. This happens to me once a year at best.

So I do. And boom:
Thing about it is, this looks like bounce back. Possibly from her hair.

But:

• I know how to avoid this.
• They’re clustered around my mother (who summoned them) rather than the waterfall.
• Apparently clustering around energetically potent people is one of the yardsticks to tell ‘orbs’ apart from camera effects.
• I have a good camera.
• I got a clear clairaudient message telling me to take the photo.
• It was the only photo I took on the entire holiday that this happened to.
• I had one of those unmistakable “black swan moments” you get immediately after something magic happens where you know the event is out of the ordinary… Even if it looks mundane. It’s like someone dropping a single ice cube into your mind.

And yet, if I didn’t take the photo myself I would dismiss it as poor camera work.

What interests me about this event is I’m still not sure whom the event was for. My mother summoned them. But I was the one who got the brain telegram. So:

• Did they show up because she asked?
• Did they show up to alleviate her slight upset at her orb-free photo?
• Did they show up so I could alleviate her slight upset at her orb-free photo? (Remembering what I said about the chest pangs.)
• Did they simply use me to obey her directive because -for whatever reason- my camera was better placed to get the shot?

So I had a series of occult experiences that culminated in what looks for all the world like equipment failure.

And here is where I learn my lesson about challenging assumptions. Orbs photos -while not technically Black Swan events because they are usually anticipated- are typically the final piece in an event series which may or may not have been magically experienced by those who were there at the time.

This lesson has (finally) stuck with me: I really don’t know that much about anything and perhaps I should just shut my damn face rather than get all derisive about things that don’t interest me or aren’t part of my regular practice?

My mother will be joining me in Florence in a couple of weeks for a little Renaissance magic shopping/touring. (ie we will drink Campari on a rooftop looking at the Duomo.) She’s just been visiting my brother in South East Asia. They went to some temples. There will be orb photos. She will ask if I would like to see her orb photos.

And I will say “Sure.”