Seeing without eyes.

I do, almost every day…

Definition of psychometry              

  1. 1:  divination of facts concerning an object or its owner through contact with or proximity to the object.         Merriam-Webster

“Psychometry is a psychic ability in which a person can sense or “read” the history of an object by touching it. Such a person can receive impressions from an object by holding it in his/her hands or, perhaps, touching it to the forehead. Such impressions can be perceived as images, sounds, smells, tastes – even emotions.”       Stephen Wagner 

“2. The alleged art or faculty of divining facts concerning an object or person associated with it, by contact with or proximity to the object.”   Dictionary.com

“Psychometry (from Greek: ψυχή, psukhē, “spirit, soul” and μέτρον, metron, “measure”), also known as token-object reading, or psychoscopy, is a form of extrasensory perception characterized by the claimed ability to make relevant associations from an object of unknown history by making physical contact with that object.  Supporters assert that an object may have an energy field that transfers knowledge regarding that object’s history. There is no scientific evidence that psychometry exists and the concept has been widely criticized.”   Wikipedia

“1The supposed ability to discover facts about an event or person by touching inanimate objects associated with them.” Oxford Living Dictionaries

“psychometry 1 the supposed divination of facts about events, people, etc., from inanimate objects associated with them. ”   Oxford American Dictionary

the hypothesized ability to obtain knowledge about an object, or about a person connected with it, through contact with the object” Your Dictionary

“2. (in parapsychology) the supposed ability to deduce facts about events by touching objects related to them” collinsdictionary.com

“1.The paranormal ability to discover information about an object’s past, and especially about its past owners, merely by handling it.” Wiktionary

“Psychometry may refer to: ▪ Psychometry, a form of extrasensory perception ▪”                                englishdictionary.education

I found these definitions in books and on the internet. Six of them are opinion, using words like supposed or hypothesized, the rest are accurate. I can, beyond the shadow of a doubt, prove the six wrong. Experience supersedes belief. My experiences have changed my beliefs from somewhat scattered to firm and immovable. I, and how do I say this without sounding pius, perform, practice, can do, am skilled in, learned how to use this ability. Psychometry is a word that describes an action, a skill, like carpentry or tailor. If words only hold credence because they have scientific evidence , we need to take love out of the dictionary. (along with many others)

Enough description, let me share an experience with you. In fact, let me share my first psychometry experience with you. How I got to the point that I have this ability is a story for another day. Suffice it to say the road to where I stand today was steep, long and winding with no signs or arrows to show me the way. I attended the psychic fair in Phoenix this spring. There were several lectures throughout the day and I planned to attend as many as possible. Since there were overlapping lectures in the same time block, I had to choose between two. Neither description grabbed me so I just walked into the closest conference room and took a seat along the aisle, four rows from the front.

The speaker was a woman who performed Reiki, amongst other things. During her talk I learned that one of the things she does is to assist in missing person cases. She uses her abilities to help families to find their missing loved ones. This intrigued me, so I listened to every word she said and asked as many questions as I could muster. About three quarters of the way through her talk, she asked if anyone in the room knew what psychometry was. I, at that moment, did not. She explained what the word meant and told us (there were about fifteen people in the room) that she had asked a few people to bring an item with them that would be read in front of the audience.

(A little side note here, I’m already a gifted psychic and have spent a lot of time looking for missing people. This blog is to tell people about psychometry, but it’s hard to separate one from the other)  

Then, to my surprise, she asked for a volunteer to try reading an item. Since I already walked into a room, by chance, with a woman giving a lecture about her own experiences finding missing persons (which is right up my alley) I raised my hand. Two rows ahead of me, across the aisle, a woman with dark hair turned and reached toward me with an item in her hand. I never looked at the item nor did I look her in the face. I simply took it, leaned forward in my chair with my elbows on my knees and got into the zone.

As the images came to me in succession I spoke aloud what I saw in each. The first was a clear view, as if I were lying on the floor, of a dark brown wooden dais. I saw the bull nose edging, it was only six or seven inches above the main floor. The next thing I saw was a pulpit, to my left, the same dark color as the floor. My vantage point was the same so I was looking up at it from the side. Behind it I saw a figure, shrouded in white and gold, tall and bearded. The next thing I described was a window or a door with a gothic arch at the top. Also made of wood. There was either a cross or a plus sign shaped opening in this door shuttered window.

That was it, I was drained at that point. I told the audience that there was more but I had spent my energy for the moment. I handed the item back to the woman and again I didn’t look at her face. Everyone was amazed when the woman told the audience that the item she had brought with her, a brass envelope opener in the shape of a double edged knife, belonged to her grandfather. He had been a carpenter and built many churches in his day. I don’t get attached to anything I see though I can obviously remember it all. After the lecture the woman came up to me and wanted to know how I did it. How I could get so much information just by touching an object. I gave her the best explanation I could, which was probably lacking at best. She thanked me and we parted ways. I had to sit in my chair for a few minutes after I finished. It is a draining task to accomplish as I found out that day.

What are the real world applications of this skill, what good is it to be able to discern information from a material object? I suppose it could be used to solve a crime or catch a bad guy. When I find missing people I haven’t used this particular skill, but I’m sure it would compliment the process I use. I haven’t gotten that far yet.I must add that this is all fact, I didn’t adlib any of it and I’d take a lie detector test any day of the week. It can absolutely be done, no doubt.


“My own understanding, from experience, is more akin to the analogy that there is an invisible thread connected between every mother and her child.”


A good friend of mine moved to another state. He gave me these glasses about six months before he left. He told me, “These were my dad’s glasses.” He loved the hell out of his dad and often talked about him. He’d been dead for I can’t remember how many years already and my friend still missed him every day. So, his connection to these glasses is strong, a direct link to his father. My connection to these glasses is that my good friend gave them to me.

When I picked them up to do psychometry on them, I fully expected to see images of my friend’s dad, nope, that’s not what I saw. Vivid images of my friend still sitting on his balcony came to me immediately. This surprised me but excited me at the same time. I’m trying to make sense of how and why this works, there really isn’t any good data out there and the few books I’ve read are full of dogma and conjecture.

One such explanation is that an item or location can be imprinted with an energy signature of the previous owner. A psychometrist simply taps into this imprint and reads or senses it like a newspaper. This could only be true if every psychometrist saw the same thing when they read the object. There goes that theory.

My own understanding, from experience, is more akin to the analogy that there is an invisible thread connected between every mother and her child. There are ample documented cases of a mother having precognitive visions of something happening to her child or knowing, at a great distance, when her child is injured or killed.

So, my belief falls within this vein. There is a thread connecting a person to an object or place, not an imprint. Example, I have a connection to the glasses that goes to my friend, not to his father. I believe that if I did a reading on the glasses for him, I would tap into the thread that connects him to his father. Another example, when I look for a missing person, having a family member that is closely connected to the missing gives me a giant thread to tap into. I’ve done it before with nothing but a picture with varying results.

I’ll keep looking and experimenting until I fully understand how and why this works. Thanks for taking the time to read this….



African Mask (1926)

I went to a garage sale to find the next item. A man sat at a table in the back of his garage while I perused his stuff. It was late in the day, garage sales close down early in Arizona because of the heat, and no other patron was present when I arrived. I looked around, taking my time to touch a few things on one of the tables. Occasionally something will call to me so I’m never in a hurry.
I spied a shelf, down low near the floor of the garage, that had some masks on it. These drew me right over. Some were from Kenya and others from different places. I squatted down and was checking them out, one by one, asking the price and origin of each. There was a green one that looked like a dragon, from China, that I focused on but when I held it, nothing came to me so I put it down. At this point, from over my left shoulder, I heard a man’s voice. Another would be buyer had shown up. I didn’t look at him as he knelt beside me and started doing the same thing I was. He picked up a few masks and asked the same questions I did. This was where I felt him, his energy got stronger as it came at me (we were nearly elbow to elbow) “Desire,” that’s the word I got when I felt his vibration. We handed masks back and forth,”Hey, check out the back of this one,” “Feel the weight of this one, it’s heavier than the rest.”
I took a mask in hand, one of the heavy ones, and slowly walked over to the man behind the table when from out of nowhere the other guy grabs the mask right out of my hand and offers the homeowner more money than he’d asked if he could take the two of them. I was dumbfounded. I was pissed. The exchange that followed, and ended with me having the mask back in my hand, was full of colorful expletives that flowed from my mouth. Now I may be tall and lean, but I’m no pushover.
One thing I didn’t do was to make eye contact with this guy during the exchange. I never got in his face or threatened him. I have a good idea of what I can do and never use it unnecessarily on anyone.
There was obviously a reason for the exchange. I was there at the exact moment that man arrived and was in the exact location for the whole thing to take place. The only thing I can figure is that I did him a favor by knocking him down a notch. His arrogance, self-righteousness, judgmental actions (probably based on the way I was dressed, I’d just gotten off of a job and it was messy) led him to believe that I was going to put up with him, or at least scurry away. I’ve been called a lot of things in my life but meek isn’t one of them.
So that’s how I got this mask, I wonder what it’ll show me…
A dark skinned man, he’s working under a roughly built shelter with a grass or straw roof. There are many men there doing the same thing as him, carving masks for the master.
These men don’t speak English and the tools they use are very simple. They wear long red skirts that are just above the ground and no shoes.
There are lions that live nearby, the men see them almost daily.
This mask is only one style, there are many different ones being worked on. Some are much taller and others are more squat and round.
They use grass or straw to pack the masks up in boxes when they are completed.
They start out with blocks of wood. They carry stacks of them on their heads, taken off the back of a truck. I see the man’s hands as he runs them over the piece of wood he was given. The backs are dark black and his palms are powdery white.
They have different stations to work at. The rough shaping is done at a table. They use what looks like a piece of chalk t draw the outline of what the mask will look like. There is a finished mask that they use for a pattern.
 The man draws it very carefully, where the eyes will go and the mouth. He’s talking, another man comes over to help him with something. They have a too to mark distance, like a compass, it’s only two sticks that are held together tightly, bound with string or twine. After the shape is traced the eyes are marked for location with an X. Then the mouth and the nose last. The helping man pats him on the back and then returns to his own station where he’s putting the finishing touches on his own mask.
I disrupted the flow here by picking up the mask and examining it. I got so into the scene that my mind kicked in. This is the first time I might actually learn a skill through psychometry so I got a little excited.
Looking at a flower mesmerizes you because of its natural beauty, it needs no explanation or searching. An item that was crafted has a story. there are threads attached to it that lead to the craftsman and anyone else that formed an emotional attachment to it after it’s creation. Perhaps it was a gift from a loved one. After that loved one has moved far away or passed on to the next life the thread becomes stronger.
I’ll look for some answers, specific ones, to learn as much of the story of this mask as I can.  Who, who made it?
One man takes the block of wood, he’s young, he does all the rough shaping because he’s new at this. An older man shows him how to trace the shape onto the block, “Don’t cut off too much, ” he’s told in his own language.
The wood is dense and hard to cut. He turns it on its edge and uses a heavy blade And something to hit it with. (the blade looks like a machete that’s been cut short and ground down. (I can’t see a hammer at this stage, I think he just swings the blade)
     What was his name?   Ooday, (spelled phonetically) Ooday was the young apprentice woodworker.
     Where in Africa are they?   South, way south. The word “Johnsburg” comes.
     When, when was this mask made? “1926” comes as words.
The old man watches Ooday work. He warns him that if he cuts himself it won’t heal…

The Bridge

This is another lesson I learned the hard way. It happened six or eight months ago, but I wrote it down in as much detail as I could at the time. The article deviates from my intended use of this blog again, but I thought the experience worth sharing and can act as a warning. When you get to the point that you don’t even have to touch something or someone to get information, you can find more than you were looking for without even trying.

By the time I was finally able to get up off the floor, I was still disoriented. The pool of vomit beneath me smelled of sour milk and bile. Pain crept slowly into my elbow from where I landed on the ceramic tile floor when I blacked out.

I staggered to the bathroom to get something to clean myself up with. When I caught my reflection in the wall-sized mirror, it took a moment for me to recognize my own face. “I wasn’t an albino when I woke up this morning,” the face staring back at me was as white as a linen bed sheet. All of the blood in my skin had been drawn into my internal organs to protect them from oxygen deprivation.

I made my way back to the rancid pool of vomit and fell to my knees, then began to clean up the mess. I never realized how much the human stomach could hold until I saw it spilled all over my kitchen floor and had to clean it up with a washcloth, it wasn;’t nearly large enough to even put a dent in the mess so I switched to the dish towel that hung on the handle of the oven.

I never saw this one coming. It’d been years since anything like this had happened to me, and back then, I had no idea what caused it. Now I know better. Eight years can teach you a lot, now I understand.

It all started when I walked back from the office in front of the complex where I live. Everything had been fine for so long that I’d forgotten what I’d gone through to get where I am today, feeling normal, well, mostly normal. On my way back to my apartment I passed by one of my neighbors who sat on his patio out in front of his apartment, smoking a cigarette and staring at the floor. (I say ‘Happened to pass by’ but there isn’t much in my life that just happens. Everything is for a reason and I spend a lot of time trying to figure out what that reason is) 

My neighbor’s daughter had recently passed away and he was in bad shape, really bad shape. I had been counseled in the past to wear or keep a dark colored stone on my person at all times to protect me from absorbing other people’s negative energy. But that’s half the fun of being me, I always want to know why, so I didn’t heed the advice I’d been given. I figured I could handle anything that came at me, boy was I wrong, and what a way to find out.

I walked over to his patio, greeted him shook his hand and asked how he was holding up. That was all it took. He started out slow at first, telling me about the funeral and all the people who came to show their respect. Then he went into the arrangements he’d made for her estate and how much his ex-wife was selling off and keeping the proceeds. He told me that he’d sold and given away, well, donated, most of his own assets because material things no longer meant anything to him.

It wasn’t until he described the hospital room where she died that I got a strange tingling sensation down the center of my body (that was the warning that I didn’t heed or understand). I guess it’s like the aura that an epileptic feels just before they are about to have a seizure. The body is trying to tell you something is coming.

I was absorbing all of his pain, and fast. When he described seeing a coyote minutes after she passed I felt a shudder in my body that caused my muscles to twitch. As he kept talking and pouring out all of his pain, I started to feel light headed and nauseous. I felt like I was going to pass out right there in front of God and everybody.

I cut the conversation short and headed the few hundred feet to my own front door. Barely making it up the stairs still upright, I pushed the door open and staggered in. Everything was going black. I made it as far as the kitchen before I passed out and hit the floor. I guess I’m lucky I spilled my guts as I fell, or at least I think I did, or else I could’ve choked on my own vomit.

I don’t think it was long before I came to. The last thing I remember hearing was the thud of my body hitting the tile floor, but I didn’t feel it. When I opened my eyes and could finally move, the first sensation I could feel was the warmth of the thick, gritty vomit between my cheek and the cold floor.

Everyone calls being an empath or psychic a gift, that’s a bunch of bullshit. It’s a burden you learn to live with like being born with one leg shorter than the other, except no one points and stares at an empath or a psychic, they just think you’re a weirdo.

That was the bridge I crossed, the one between the five physical senses and the sixth. The only example I can think of to help someone relate to my experience is that I felt like John Coffee in The Green Mile. I took this man’s pain into my body to the point of overload on myself. I can only hope that in some way  I was able to help ease his suffering. To believe that would make it worth the while…



The sauce ladle still vexes me. I don’t pretend to have all the answers, not yet anyway. One thing that I do know for sure is that the more I look, the more I find and the more I find, the greater my desire to understand how and why this works.

I acquired this compass at an estate sale. Since Arizona has become the new Florida in terms of desirable places to retire, there is an abundance of souls departing the earth from this station. The things they leave behind (which is all their worldly possessions) are swiftly sold to the highest bidder by their surviving relatives.

I remember going to one such sale. After walking through the house and perusing the personal effects of some anonymous old man, I said to the gentleman running the sale, “Someone died in this house.” He could neither confirm nor deny the fact. Surprised at my statement, he said, “To tell you the truth, I really don’t know. We just run the sale, the family doesn’t usually give us that kind of information.”

The reason I asked the gentleman running the sale this question (as I exited the house) was because the house felt different to me, not like others I’d visited looking for items. When I entered, I felt like I was stepping over the threshold of a mortuary right in the middle of a viewing. It was like an eerie, somber silence filled every corner of every room. The other people who were shopping the possessions of the deceased were quiet and reserved, no one spoke above a loud whisper. Who knows, I just observe and feel what other people are numb to.

Let’s see what this little compas has to tell me. I examined it closely. It’s tough to tell by looking at it how much use it got. The piece of lead still in it is less than a half inch long. The body is stainless steel. On one side the number 54 is engraved along with the initials PTS. On one side of the thumb wheel are the words VEMCO and Pasadena.

-I see a man sitting at a desk or horizontal table. There’s a bright lamp in front of him, in the center of the table but not on it, maybe a floor lamp. The words “Drafting table” come through loud and clear.

– Large sheets of white paper, one is taped to the drafting table, by the corners. The tape is narrow and blue. There is a circle on the paper, somewhere near the center.

-The words, Chrysler LaBarron”   There’s a cup on the edge of the table in front of him, to the right of the lamp. It’s full of other drafting tools, weird looking metal pencils and other things with knobs on the sides.

-“Link Pin” comes as words when I ask what’s on the paper. I see an image of the circle in the center of the paper with some horizontal lines of different lengths next to it, on the right, one is at an angle.

-“1994” comes as words when I ask the date. “June 9th” comes as words. I get the impression that I’m not in the house I bought it in. He lived somewhere else when he used this compas the most.

-There is a degree hanging on the wall behind him, to his left. It’s in a nice frame. “Dixon” comes as words, then “Straup”(spelling could be different, but sounds like this), “Paul T.” “Masters of engineering”  Then the word “Illinois.”

-A filing cabinet full of papers. Lots of papers on a shelf. Big papers, things he’s drawn, pictures. One of them is a hubcap design.

-Mary is his wife’s name. They were married 47 years when she died, he finished his life alone. He sits on a stool behind his drafting table, not in a chair. “Roll up my sleeves and get to work,” he would say often.  “Brandy,” He’d drink it when he was all done working. He made a lot of money as an engineer, “$103,000.00” comes as words.

– Something plagued his health, even then he knew he was sick. Paid lots of doctor bills. “Leukemia,” came as words.

-I see him drawing gears with his compas, “Ring and Pinion,” comes as words.

There’s probably lots more, but out of respect for the dead, I’m going to stop here. Now I get to look and see if anything I got is quantifiable. Dixon Illinois has a college that teaches engineering. There is also a Dixon college. The compas checks out as being old, can’t get an exact date but based on the box it was sold in, it’s old enough, 50’s or 60’s I’d say.

Dixon Illinois has a college that teaches engineering. There is also a Dixon college. The compas checks out as being old, can’t get an exact date but based on the box it was sold in, it’s old enough, 50’s or 60’s I’d say.





Sauce Ladle

DSC_0268Another garage sale. I picked up a silver plated sauce ladle, it was half price. Let’s see where it takes me.


-A man wearing a black suit. A black bow tie. He has a grey bushy mustache and mutton chops. (1870) came as words. There is quail on the table with dinner.

-The men in the room are talking about the king of England (the year was in the Victorian era so they might have been saying that England needs a king) Men smoking pipes and cigars. The servant, a woman, is wearing a white linen cape (apron) with long strings on the back, she comes into the room to clean up. She says, “Guvna” an English accent.

-Wooden roller skates. One of the children that live in the house left them in the smoking room. Someone mentions that the cigars are from Havana.

-The roller skate looks like a tall shoe with wheels on it.


I checked out the skates, the description is in period. In 1870 they had wooden roller skates. Plenty of cigars came from Havana in that year also, especially to England. The servant checks out as well. They wore a cape (apron) just like I saw. All this is excellent proof for me, quantifiable data. There’s just one thing that I can’t figure out. From what I can gather, this ladle was made in 1937. So there must be a connection between the ladle and the men in the room in 1870, what it is I don’t know yet…

Wooden Spike



I Picked up this piece of wood from another garage sale. The man who sold it to me said that it was a log cabin spike. Let’s see what it shows me.

-The first image I get is a forest with many white birch trees. A weird shaped ax or hatchet. The blade is huge compared to one made today. It’s heavy and sharp. Next, I see a two-man saw with big teeth. The man using it has weird pants on with no pockets and they’re held up with some kind of rope, no belt. He has a pouch with tobacco in it. His boots have hard wooden heels, the aren’t comfortable to wear.

-“A man with two sons” I see clothes with buttons and suspenders.

-I see an old wooden box, they need a lot of these spikes. A cast iron bit and brace with a long auger bit, that’s what they used to drill the holes with. The man carries an old six-shooter on his hip in a black leather holster. They used mud and straw to fill in-between the logs. A horse or a mule with a long, heavy rope pulled the logs out of the woods to where the cabin was being built.

-1829 came as words when I asked the year.

Here is a picture I found of an ax from 1829, exactly the way I saw the blade shaped.010

Block Plane

DSC_0264I picked up this old block plane at a garage sale for $15. I figured that because it’s old, it’ll have a story to tell me. A very simple tool, one piece of wood with a tapered wedge to hold the blade in place. Since it’s a hand tool someone had to have put a lot of energy into it to make it work. Let’s see if there’s a thread attached that I can follow…


The first thing I see is someone using a wooden hammer to tap the wedge in place, tightening the blade.

A man, he’s wearing a heavy leather apron and has round spectacles on.

I see a shop, they make banisters there, other things as well. The plane isn’t flat, it doesn’t have a straight blade, it’s rounded to dish something out. He used it on the side of a banister.

There is a wooden sign hanging outside the shop. A horse and cart, the road is dirt. A small bell hangs from the jamb in the upper corner of the door. It jingles when someone opens the door and walks inside. There are round pegs sticking out of the wall, maybe where tools are stored or finished pieces are set. Inside the shop, there is a lot of sawdust on the floor, off to the side an old cash register sits on a small table or counter. The cash register displays numbers on something above the body, like around bar. (I drew a picture of this) There’s a crank handle on the side.

The shopkeeper writes things on a piece of yellow paper, a small pad that he keeps next to the register. “1920” comes as words.

Ok, I’m doing pretty good with this object. I’ll try to get some answers to specific questions.

“Where is this shop located?”   Cambridge Massachutesets. – This came easy, came as words. I didn’t even have to look.

“What id the name on the sign?” O’Rileys (woodworking) Thomas O’Riley. Tougher to get this, couldn’t see the sign, just heard the words. I also get the smell of horse shit outside the shop.

I see a canvas bag with woodworkers tools in it. It’s heavy. The word “Florence” comes. Could be a place or a person. Big, heavy wooden table inside. Made of four by fours. He made it. “2 August, 1914,” he writes it on the pad cash register.

I see some kind of a handle on the front of this plane. Kinda looks like a shovel handle, but different. It looks like a piece is missing.

I see a pile of logs, raw materials for him to use.

So I did some research. There were plenty of unpaved roads in Cambridge in 1914. There were also plenty of horses, people still used them to get around. The cash registers of the period had a crank on the side. I couldn’t find anything specific about O’Rileys, but that doesn’t mean that it isn’t out there….

The Next Thing

DSC_0259After work today, I decided to take the long way home. As I drove a fluorescent yellow sign that said, “Garage Sale” came into view. Since I made some money and still had it in my pocket, I decided to follow the signs and see what I could find.

When I got out of my truck and wondered under the carport where a few tables were set up, nothing caught my eye at first. I looked at the old coats that were hanging on a makeshift rack and the pieces of horse tack that lie on the edge of a sparsely covered table. Nothing caught my fancy.

After I perused what I thought was everything they had to offer, I spied some knick knacks that were off to the side. A turquoise and silver necklace caught my eye but didn’t keep my attention. Then I saw a small piece of china about the size of a sugar bowl. It had a repeating oriental scene with some flowers in between. I didn’t even check it for cracks or chips, it just felt like what I was looking for. I gave the woman who was running the sale a dollar and thanked her. She only wanted fifty cents for it but I insisted it was worth every penny to me.

I took it home and cleaned it up with some steel wool. An unidentifiable substance had built up around the upper rim and made it unsightly. There is a stamp on the bottom that says “Made in China” in English and some words in Chinese directly below it. Now comes the fun part. I get to see what this little Asian bowl tells me…

I see a wooden shelf, long, made of a single plank. It’s not painted and looks a bit shotty. There are many bowls on this shelf, arranged in order. It’s in a small shop. A short Asian woman picks out the bowl and the shopkeeper wraps it in brown paper. She pays for it with strange looking money. The bills are large and there is a face printed on them, in the center. “China Town” comes as words.

Next, I see the bowl in a hutch, behind a glass door.  It is displayed with other nice things, some plates and silver spoons. It has a shallow domed lid and is part of a tea set. (I can’t see the whole set) “40’s or 50’s” comes as words. A dark haired woman from Jerico (NY) owns it.

I learned something about what I do from this little bowl. I didn’t get much on it and after I did my original reading and typed out most of this post, I tried again to see if I could get a little more but it didn’t feel the same. After I tried to research it I became acquainted with it. Once I was acquainted with it, my connection to it became stronger than the past connection I tapped into, overpowered it in a sense. My thread became stronger than the previous one. That’s how I interpret it anyway…

The Door Knob

DSC_0234.JPG door knobI picked up an old door knob from a garage sale for seventy-five cents. let’s see what it tells me…

I see a narrow hallway and a six-panel door. Two of the panels are long, half the height of the door. (it’s painted white) A building from the outside and the words First Ave. Two children, a boy and a girl. They are dressed funny. The boy has his hair slicked back and the girl is wearing a dress like on Little House on the Prairie. A man puts his hat and overcoat on a coat tree. The walls are plaster, the words Parlor Door. The girl’s dress is billowy, one piece and her hair is long and straight.

A closet, it’s small with thick metal hangers that seem to be to heavy, not like hangers today. On the floor is a pair of thick, black leather shoes for a child, they look stiff.

Ok, I looked up the door, six panel with two long panels on top. I also looked up the knob. Found the exact same one, an antique. It’s bronze and was made in 1890. The door was in style back then.  The coat hangers in 1890 were like I saw, made of thick, heavy metal compared to today. Couldn’t find the exact shoes.

The Touch

Psychometry works on live people as well as objects. I found this out the same way I find everything else out, I tried it. On my way home from a job I made some money on, the thought occurred to me that I should tithe ten percent of what I made. Thought’s of idiots giving millions to a church that does nothing with it but build more churches wormed through my brain and left a bad taste in my mouth. I knew I was supposed to give it to someone in need. I decided to stop at a store that I don’t visit often. As I turned into the parking lot I saw a man holding a sign, asking for help. That’s my life, things always happen that way. “There he is,” I said aloud to myself. After I took care of my shopping, I made sure to exit the parking lot so as to drive close to him. I rolled down the passenger window and waved him over as I rolled to stop. I can spot a charlatan a mile away, this guy was really in need. When he walked over to the window I extended my hand and asked him his name. “Alen,” he replied as I shook his hand. “Here’s twenty bucks, get yourself something to eat.”

“Ah, really, thanks, man,” he said as he took the bill from my hand. As I drove away, this feeling of sadness washed over me. It came from Allen, that’s what he felt. I just get to sample it by touch. Add one more thing to the list of crazy shit I can do…