Anna Koop

I was thinking about ghosts the other day, in particular imagining how I would respond to someone who asked me if I believe in ghosts. (I believe this was prompted by the unfamiliar noises of the hotel we were staying in.) This imaginary person had a ghost story of their own and was sympathetic to the “science can’t explain everything” philosophy (doesn’t everyone have backstory to their imaginary conversation partners?).

So: belief in ghosts. I do and I don’t. I have grave doubts about the empirically-testable existence of a particular ghost haunting a particular place. But I am convinced of the ability of the human mind to experience wild and wonderful and individual things. So your grandmother’s tale of feeling a comforting presence late one night after your grandfather passed away, of her opening her eyes and seeing him standing there smiling down at her and then fading away into a bright light—I believe that she experienced that, whatever would have been measured and confirmed by instruments in the room. And the story of the dedicated student that still haunts the school paper’s newsroom, opening drawers and tramping around upstairs late at night when the building should be deserted—that story has power, and insisting that someone shouldn’t believe their lying ears is not always useful.

The problem is that people who believe in the (empirically-testable) existence of ghosts are not completely happy with the “I believe you experienced that.” response. And “I believe that something happened” is a little too gullible for extreme skeptics or hard-core logical positivists. But, being the indirect realist that I am, “I believe you experienced that, and it is not something that can be measured or reliably experience by me” is the most accurate thing I can say.

On to crystals: I love rocks. I have collected them one way or another since I was a child. I like the sparkly structures of crystals and the rich hues of gemstones and the smooth lines of river rocks and the cutting edges and flat planes of slate and all the images and letters and patterns that we find in perfectly ordinary stones. I am (in spite of the dreadlocks) emphatically not a believer in their mystical powers.

But I do believe in the power of symbolism and ritual and mental cues. So I have been contemplating ways of presenting this in an intellectually honest way. I do not think that putting my bit of kyanite near my computer will protect me from evil emanations, and I love my labradorite sample for its hidden aurora borealis, not for good luck and clarity of thought. But since I once used a ladybug sticker to remind myself to “just do the next thing”, I can certainly use rocks to remind myself to be mindful or calm or whatever affirmation is most important at the time. In fact, stopping to play with the labradorite and watch it glow might be a perfect antidote to thrashing.

And, being an incorrigible schemer, I’m thinking of ways to systematize this (personal) symbolism and make wire cages for different rocks and customizable stitch markers and keychains and a billion other plans. So it goes.

Still, labradorite for mindfulness works pretty well, since you have to play with it to catch its beauty. I’ll give that a go.