My 18 month orb storm
The magic of Oregon Orb House
Orb quest... a break in the continuum
My orb photography adventure began with an impulsive, last minute premonition. I would travel to Taos New Mexico, to revisit an adventure of my childhood of the 1960’s.
Grandmother Marie and grandpa John had driven Brother Patrick and me across the West; in the back of a then new 1964 G.M.C. pickup truck and Camper. The average distance traveled on any given day down desert route 66 was three or four hundred miles.
With no air conditioning, and an old Navy Aviator at the driver’s wheel, who steadfastly believed 48 miles per hour to be a reasonable rate of travel; even as a 10 year old boy, I realized that the truck was running at idle.
None the less, travels with my grandparents remained a found memory, and compelled me to revisit the 1000 year old Pueblo Indian ruins of Taos.
Taos is no less than 1800 miles to the south east of Oregon. The 2010 journey with Nancy and good dog Otis, proved to be a long, yet enjoyable one.
Leaving Orb House on a late Thursday afternoon, we would arrive in Taos after five days of driving through California, Arizona, Nevada and New Mexico. The October weather was fantastic, and allowed for casual dress as well as fantastic photography. With the kids back in school, travel was easy and not crowded; we managed to average 450-500 miles per day with stops.
While visiting Taos, I would discover an image in a digital photo that would change my perception of the afterlife, as well as the possibility of communication with those that had passed; through spirit generated orb images. As a person of open mind, as well as a believer in “the possibility of all things possible,” I would spend the next 18 months or so, capturing thousands of orb images through the lens of my digital camera. At first viewing the images with skepticism, I would come to take the images for granted; not as the gift that had been granted to me by spirits unknown.
And then the strangest thing happened. As if a candles flame had been extinguished by a gentle summer breeze, the Orbs disappeared from my view finder. They had refused to show themselves to me in the past, but only for a very short day or so.
This time felt quite different. There was a sence of sadness, as well as a feeling of loss in my heart. As if an old friend had died for a second time, memory faded, a face's image lost to memory faded. I was experiencing a personal sense of loss.
Then it occurred to me… It had been over a year since David Kenyon had passed. I had honored my commitment to him, by selling his home as promised in April; after 18 months on the market. Perhaps he was now at rest.
Brother Patrick was gone a year in March. His daughter Vanessa was to be married in June and his affairs were in order. As his executor, my commitment to him was also honored. Perhaps his work here, was done.
Nancy’s mother Mary Duggan had visited us back in April, and was possibly sitting on her cloud, drinking a very dry gin martini, debating with the saints over the finer points of theology.
It’s eerily quiet on the hill this evening; as a soft rain falls on the shingled roof of Orb House. Earlier, I stepped out onto the kitchen deck as I have countless times in the past, to capture a handful of orb images. Other than a tree spirit or two, the night is very still. The outer-dimensional activity that my sister Monica refers to as noisy has left us for now.
Until next time…