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The Mansion of Darkness

Most of the beauties who suffered at the hands of the inquisitors were tormented because they refused to succumb to the right people or were too quick to give in to the wrong ones. Many who lusted after such women become so guilt-ridden that they would denounce them out of fear that they would fall from grace in the eyes of God. Of course, the most successful witches were unusually sleeping with the inquisitors and were never even considered to be witches. Successfully as they might be, however, they could never openly take pride in their witcheries, for to do so would mean certain death. There are many who view the witch as a member of an old pagan religion, more concerned with her beliefs than with her powers. To be sure, the witch is a WOMAN. Men are called warlocks. The witch has made a pact with the Devil and through rituals dedicated to Him gains her power. One must worship the Luciferian element of pride within. One is often blessed with a family heritage of sorcery in one form or another. Everyone inherits something from their forebearers that can be applied as useful legacy. My mother had a genealogy of the Winchester family that showed all of our ancestors going way back to the 1400s. There were lots of famous people in our genealogy—a governor, two senators, a famous general in the Revolution, a lot of people who found in the Revolutionary War and the Civil War, and some others. However, my dad always said that most of the people in the genealogy were regular people—farmers and fishermen and storekeepers who worked hard all their lives and tried to do right by their families. #RandolphHarris 1 of 12

The Winchester money went pretty far back. However, a majority of it came during the 1870s, from the 1873 Model called “The Gun that Won the West.” The Winchester Repeating Arms Company was started by Oliver Fisher Winchester. There was a portrait of him, big as a picture window, hanging up in the parlor in the Winchester Mansion. He had on a dark suit, black tie, white shirt, and he looked very dignified. It was one of those pictures where the eyes follow you around the room—no matter where you went, he always looked at you. After grandfather Oliver Winchester passed away, he left the company to my father, William Winchester, who passed away shortly after, alone with my baby sister, leaving the fortune and company to my mother, Sarah L. Winchester. That mansion used to scare the crap our of me when I was little. We would go up there for Thanksgiving or Christmas, when Mrs. Winchester had a big family dinner for all the family—fifty or sixty of us, probably six turkeys, plumb pudding from England, thousands of dollars worth of glassware and sliver gleaming so bright that the table sparkled. The towns people always blamed Mrs. Winchester for whatever happened to them. You have to remember, this was a time when people lived in houses without windows, no indoor plumbing, or houses with no glass in the windows. Common folks in those days would eat nothing but potatoes for dinner night after night, and they patched the holes in their shoes with cardboard because they could not afford to buy new one. #RandolphHarris 2 of 12

My mother, whom I call Mrs. Winchester, said paying the bills, paying the servants, and keeping an eye on everything was like managing a large castle. The cobble stone driveway swung around behind the house here to get the stable, where we kept the riding horses, and the old carriage house, where the cars were garaged. According to legend, Mrs. Winchester enacted a nightly séance to help her with her building plans and for protection from “bad” spirits. The Satanic witch of old received her magic from The Dark Man. While the rest of the World, particularly the men-folk, slept in blissful innocence, she and her sisters would meet Him in secret groves. There He would advise, inveigle and disclose the knowledge that would empower them to work their spells and enchantments. His pearls of infernal wisdom empowered them. It was, they said, a sign of a coven moving towards black magic. In other words their selected deity, faded into the background of their working and the search for the manifestation of demonic forces within their circle became obsessive. However, magic is the power within oneself that is the key to what we do, and sometimes we can whip up a great deal of power. The magic we are capable of is almost indefinable. Our magic is the art of causing change to occur in conformity with will. We attempt to raise enough etheric energy between us, by our ritual, to use our paranormal powers to force a desired result by our will-power. It was one thing using the supernatural powers of the human mind to try to compel something to happen, but it was quite another matter summoning up the assistance of spirits and demons, whether benevolent, malevolent or neutral. Mistakes in the ritual or failure to observe the minute could lead to disaster. #RandolphHarris 3 of 12

Mrs. Winchester recalls one night she invited a magician who parctised the darker arts to assist her. The magic went wrong and the room they were working in was virtually wrecked by lingering, unseen spirits. Mrs. Winchester was mysteriously injured with a stab wound in her shoulder, though no one saw the knife go in or where it came from. Many guides to higher ritual magic issues a health warning with their instructions: the practitioner must be confident he or she is totally in control of all the techniques and disciplines otherwise one faces physical, psychological and spiritual dangers of the most serious kind if any attempt to invoke spirits goes wrong. By and large, witchcraft—and certainly paganism—seemed not to be about chasing demons, though they do claim to make spiritual contact with the gods invoked during their worship. There was an abundance of evidence that Mrs. Winchester experienced paranormal events in her life: the feeling she had been in a certain place before when, in this life at least, it was her first visit; the uncanny foresight of her fortune-telling; the “proven” success of powers of autosuggestion; the out-of-body experiences that she was able to learn; the sixth sense of Zip, barking at the spot in the mansion where Maynard the butler had died years ago. The list goes on and on. The discussion about Mrs. Winchester will probably go on for centuries, but it will not be until the year 2030 that these discussions will be able to take place without being prosecuted or hanged. Mrs. Winchester wore robs during her séances because the human body holds within it a latent power which can be released by certain ritual exercises that witches perform. Some spiritualist healers and clairvoyant witches can actually see it, like a rainbow. #RandolphHarris 4 of 12

Is it any surprise the Winchester Mansion is haunted? One night during a séance, two inner circles were painted on the floor. The circle is the center of all occult activity and was drawn to concentrate the occultists’ power and protected them from hostile spirits. Within the circle, the spiritual journey started and their efforts were directed to produce their Cone of Power. It was only within the circle that the gods and the spirits of the astral Would could be safely contacted. The process was much like clearing a dense forest so the physical bodies could meet their spiritual. As the group was opening their mind to journey to a higher plane, they were clearing their minds of Earthly problems and worries so that they could open their entire beings to the singular concentration of the work before them, by tapping into the energy of the centers of the body. Lighted candles were placed at strategic points on the circle, and there was a pentacle on the altar where the statuette of the Horned God of Pan stood. As Mrs. Winchester blessed the water and salt with her athame and the coven, she was able to visualize the bodily power of the priestess moving in the form of a blue light through her hand into the athame and as she consecrated the circle itself, starting at the north a magic was killed by a heavy door that came loose from its hinges and flew at him. The invocation of gods and goddesses or their attempts to attract angels and genii into circles involve long and complicated rituals which have their complexities. Afterwards, to all, things went on as usual for a week or two. Well, the things went on as usual; so they did with the rest of household; but as for Mrs. Winchester, she had never been the same since that night. Night after night, she used to lie awake, listening for the spirits, looking for blue lights, and for the door of the Blue Séance Room to be locked. #RandolphHarris 5 of 12

However, all supernatural activity seemed to have ceased, and she heard no sounds coming from the room. At last, the silence began to be more and more dreadful to Mrs. Winchester than the activity of the spirits. She felt that someone was cowering there, behind the locked door, watching and listening as she watched and listened, and she could have almost cried out, “Whoever you are, come out and let me see you face to face, but do not lurk there and spy on me in the darkness!” Feeling as she did, you may wonder Mrs. Winchester did not give warning. Once she very nearly did so; but at the last moment something held her back. Whether it was compassion for the peace of her staff, who had grown more and more dependent on her, or unwillingness to try a new room, or some other feeling that she could not put a name to, Mrs. Winchester lingered on as if spellbound, though every night was dreadful to her, and the days but little better. The staff did not like Mrs. Winchester’s looks, she had not been the same since that night. They thought she would brighten up, but though she seemed easier in her mind, her spirits did not revive, nor her strength either. Mrs. Winchester had grown attached to her home, and there was nothing no one could do for her. In spite of Mrs. Winchester’s solemn looks, they had a very merry dinner that day in the hall. She started to look better, and seemed more cheerful in her manner. She had been for a walk in the morning, and after luncheon she lay down in her room, and read a book. As the rain fell, Mrs. Winchester looked out at the rain, and she picture how beautiful her Victorian gardens would look in the spring. #RandolphHarris 6 of 12

It seemed to her that all the beautiful flowers, green lawns and plush trees would cover up the dreariness, indoors as well as out. The fancy had hardly crossed her mind when she heard a step at her side. She looked up, and there stood Maynard. Mrs. Winchester did not know how long he stood there. She only knew that she could not stir or take her eyes from him. Afterward she was terribly frightened, but t the same time it was not fear she felt, but something deeper and quitter. He looked at Mrs. Winchester long and hard, and his face was just one dumb prayer to her—but how in the World was Mrs. Winchester to help him? Suddenly she turned, and she heard him walk down the passage. This time Mrs. Winchester was not afraid to follow—she felt that she must know what Maynard wanted. Mrs. Winchester sprang up and ran out. He was at the other end of the passage, and Mrs. Winchester expected him to take the turn towards the door-to-nowhere; but instead, ran and pushed out the door to the 7-11 staircase that was built in the shape of a “Y”, which enabled servants to get to three different levels of the mansion. Mrs. Winchester followed him down the stairs. The kitchen and hall were empty at that hour, the servants being off duty, except for the footman, who was in the pantry. At the door Maynard stood still for a moment, with another look at Mrs. Winchester; then he turned the handle, and stepped out. For a minute Mrs. Winchester hesitated. What was Maynard leading her? #RandolphHarris 7 of 12

The door had closed softly after him, and Mrs. Winchester opened it and looked out, half-expecting to find that Maynard had disappeared. However, she saw him a few yards off hurrying across the courtyard to the path through the woods. His figure looked black and lonely in the snow, and for a second Mrs. Winchester’s heart failed her and she thought of turning back. But, all the while Maynard was drawing her after him; and Mrs. Winchester ran out into the open. Maynard was in the cobble stone path now. He walked on steadily, and Mrs. Winchester followed at the same pace, till they passed out of the gates and reached the highroad. Then he struck the across the open fields to the village. By this time the ground was white, and as he climbed the slope of a muddy hill ahead of her Mrs. Winchester noticed that Maynard left no footprint behind him. At sight of that her heart shriveled up within her, and her keens were water. Somehow, it was worse than indoors. He made the whole countryside seem lonely as the grave, with none but the two of them in it, and no help in the wide World. Once Mrs. Winchester tried to go back; but Maynard turned and looked at her, and it was as if he dragged her with chains. After that Mrs. Winchester followed him like a lamb. They came to the village and he led her through it, past the church and the blacksmith’s shop, and down the lane, and the ghost of Maynard disappeared. A sense of helplessness came over Mrs. Winchester and she had not been able to guess what he wanted. His last look at her pierced Mrs. Winchester to the marrow; and yet it had not told her! #RandolphHarris 8 of 12

All at once Mrs. Winchester felt more desolate than when Maynard had stood there watching her. It seemed as if he left Mrs. Winchester all alone to carry the weight of the secret she could not guess. The rain went around in great circles, and the ground fell away from her. A spot of tea was brought to Mrs. Winchester and she was driven by carriage to her mansion. Upon arrival at home, the maid asked Mrs. Winchester what she wanted for dinner. “I have a headache, and will not require dinner this evening,” she said. It was a fact that Mrs. Winchester could scarcely keep her feet; yet she had no fancy to spend a solitary evening in her room. She sat down in the morning room, as long as she could hold her head up; but by eight she walked up the zig zag stairs, too weary to care what happened if she could but get her head on a pillow. The rest of the household went to bed soon afterward; they kept early hours. Once in bed, Mrs. Winchester felt easier, and lay quiet, listening to the strange noises that came out of the house after dark. Once she thought she heard a door open and close again below: it might have been the glass door that led to the gardens. She got up and peered out of the window; but it was in the dark of the moon, and nothing visible outside but the streaking of rain against the panes. Mrs. Winchester went back to bed and must have dozed off, for she jumped awake by the sound of shattered glasses. Before her heard was clear she sprung out of bed, and was dragging on her clothes. She unlocked and opened her door and peered down the passage. As far as her candle flame carried, she could see nothing unusual ahead of her. #RandolphHarris 9 of 12

Mrs. Winchester hurried on, breathless; but as she pushed open the door leading to the main hall her heart stood still, for there at the head of the stairs was Maynard, peering dreadfully down into the darkness. For a second she could not sir; but her hand slipped from the door, and as it swung shut the figure vanished. At the same instant there came another sound from below stairs—a stealthy mysterious sound, as of a latchkey turning in the house door. At that moment, the door tore open. On the threshold stood Maynard. All was dark behind him, but Mrs. Winchester saw him plainly. A death flutter passed over her face. Hours passed and there seemed to be no change in her. Just when the evil spirit left, Mrs. Winchester did not, but you could imagine the great joy that filled her heart to be set free from that awful, wicked, noisy spirit. Mrs. Winchester was so happy. If a Demonic element is allowed to express itself, through a non-human vehicle, such as poetry, music, art—great works can be accomplished. Maynard was a Satanist who had worked evil magic more than a hundred times. There are bloodcurdling accounts of those who had flirted with the devil and brought to public attention by those who worked at the Winchester Mansion. Mrs. Winchester knew she had powers when she was a child; she could will things to happen and often they did. She thought it was natural. She owned parchments from old grimoires from rituals that had been performed by witches who were hanged or burned. There were even books with spells in curses from the sixteenth century. #RandolphHarris 10 of 12

Mrs. Winchester owned magic spells that were older than the country—magic to ensure opulence; to incite hatred or vengeance; and, for men, to secure the love of a virgin; to open every kind of lock without a key; to cause a dead body to rise—all that kind of stuff. She studied the old rituals for bewitchment, the type that got a lot of women hanged. There were these spells rather like voodoo where she made wax effigies. Mrs. Winchester vegan to study necromancy, which deals with bringing the dead back to life. The method she did was one where she drew her magic in a circle in her house. This was supposed to attract the spirit back. The performed the rites which lasted about thirty minutes. Nothing happened the first time or the second time, but the third time the room went cold and she could feel the presence. Suddenly ornaments crashed off the sideboard and pictures fell from the walls…she had made contact but whoever it was was obviously unhappy about it so she had to give up. Mrs. Winchester did not give up experimenting thought. The art of necromancy often causes occasional outbreaks of attacks on graveyards where misguided occult dabblers believe they have been compelled to make contact with the dead no matter how long they have been departed, though in truth a graveyard is probably the least place the spirit might wish to join callers for an evening. In June of 1889, the Oak Hill Memorial Park was the scene of bizarre rituals that puzzled even the most experienced occultists. More than twenty graves were ransacked; old-fashion lead-lined coffins had been “ripped open like a tin of beans” and the bodies or remains were carried away. #RandolphHarris 11 of 12

No one can become involved in spiritism without serious repercussions. The poltergeist phenomena may be real. I call upon the powers of death and decay through the mouth of Arezura. Powers of baneful darkness I summon you to this unholy temple. I conjure you mighty Fly Goddess Dryj Nasu to enter this lamp of death which will guide the lives of my enemies into utter destruction, for death levels them all according to my will, whether they die as Kings upon a throne or poor men lying upon dirt! Druj Nasu fill this lamp of death with your power and essence and I offer my essence upon this gateway of the black Earth so it is done! This Druj Nasu runs from the northern directions in the form of a fly. To him blow the wind from the northerly direction from the more northern sides, stinking, more stinking than other winds. I offer my enemy as a sacrifice unto the Druj Nasu. Claim your prize how, by the power of Ahriman and the Blackened Fire of Zohak, and in the name of my own divine power it is done! Thou shalt purge me with hyssop, O Lord! and I shall be clean: Thou shalt wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow. THE ADORATION AT THE INDUING OF THE VESTMENT. By the figurative mystery of these holy vestures (or this holy vestment) I will clothe me with the armour of salvation in the strength of the Most High, ANCHOR; AMACOR; AMIDES; THEODINIAS; ANITOR; that my desire end may be effected through Thy strength, O ADONAI! Unto Whom the praise and glory will for ever and ever belong! Amen! #RandolphHarris 12 of 12

Winchester Mystery House

Master magician and acclaimed apparitionist Aiden Sinclair returns to Winchester Mystery House with Aiden Sinclair’s Ghost of Christmas Passed, an interactive evening of paranormal illusions. Once upon a time, Christmas was more than a celebration of giving.

It was a time that families gathered and when the night grew darkest, chilling tales were told. Aiden Sinclair rekindles the tradition of Dickens in a haunting presentation that brings the Christmas Ghost Stories of long ago back to haunt the living! Will you dare join and see what dark gifts he has in store? Two nights ONLY – tickets going fast!
🎟 link in bio. https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/
Frequent Occurrences of Hauntings

Whether or not one believes in Mrs. Winchester’s superstitions about spirits, it is harder to dismiss frequent occurrences of hauntings which assaulted one’s vision wherever one would look. The question of the “evil” in her home had already become too grave for her. The place was known to swarm with ghosts. Mrs. Winchester was seated by her fire. abruptly she saw a shadow of a vast spider hung suspended in the air, just beyond the barrier. It passed swiftly around her and seemed to probe ever towards her, but only to draw back with extraordinary jerky movements, as might a living person who touched the hot bar of a grate. Round and round it moved and round and round she turned. Then, it retired almost beyond the glow of the vacuum light and then came straight towards her, appearing to gather form and solidity as it came. There seemed a vast malign determination behind the movement that must succeed. She was on her knees and jerked back, falling on to her left hand and hip, in a wild endeavour to get back from the advancing thing. With her right hand she was grabbing madly for her ivory-gripped Volcanic Navy pistol which she had let slip. The brutal thing came with one great sweep straight towards her. Mrs. Winchester yelled. Then, just as suddenly as it had swept over, it seemed to be hurled back by some mighty, invisible force. It was some moments before she realized that she was safe, and then she got herself together, feeling horribly done and shaken and glancing round and round the barrier, but the thing had vanished. Yet she had learnt something, for she knew not that the mansion was haunted. #RandolphHarris 1 of 10

Suddenly, as Mrs. Winchester crouched there, she saw what had so nearly given the monster an opening through the barrier. In her movements within the halls of her mansion, she noticed that the door to nowhere was open. She closed it and felt almost safe again. For a long time, she felt uneasy, as she saw odd wavering over among the shadows near the door to nowhere. And a minute afterwards the door was opened and slammed wide with tremendous force. The next instant the thing made one swift, vicious dart at her from the shadows. Instinctively she started sideways from it and so plucked her hand from upon the fireplace poker, though—owning to her inconceivable foolishness—it had been enabled for a second time to pass through the door to nowhere. She shook for a time with sheer fear. Mrs. Winchester moved right to the center of a pentacle in the room and knelt there, making herself as small and compact as possible. She could not be sure if she was being influenced unconsciously or was she in danger? With her suspicious watchfulness, a mysterious hand materialized out of the shadows and seemed to leap almost into her face, so nearly did it approach her, but it was thrown back by some altogether enormous, over-mastering force. Yet, apart from the dazed fright in which it left her, she had for a moment that feeling of spiritual sickness, as if some delicate, beautiful, inward grace had suffered which is felt only upon the too near approach of the ab-human and is more dreadful in a strange way than any physical pain that can be suffered. She knew by this more of the extent and closeness of the danger, and for a long time Mrs. Winchester was simply cowed by the brutality of that Force upon her spirit. #RandolphHarris 2 of 10

Mrs. Winchester had retired from the scene and, visiting the ample house from attic to cellar, making sure she was alone, and knew herself in safe possession and, as she tacitly expressed it, let herself go. Then she could, as seemed to her, most intimately wander and wait, linger and listen, feel her fine attention, never in her life before so fine, on the pulse of the great vague place: she preferred the lampless hours and only wished she might have prolonged each day the deep crepuscular spell. Later—rarely much before midnight, but then for a considerable vigil—she watched with her glimmering light; moving slowly, holding it higher, playing it far, rejoicing above all, as much as one might, in open vistas, reaches of communication between rooms and by passages; the long straight chance or show, as she would have called it, for the revelation she pretended to invite. It was a practice Mrs. Winchester found she could perfectly “work” without exciting remark; no one was in the least the wiser for it. She slowly opened some rich music. As she walked along the marble of the hall pavement, large black-and-white squares that she remembered the admiration of her childhood and that had then in her, as she now saw, for the growth of an early conception style. There was the effect of the dim reverberating tinkle of some far-off bell hung in the belfry—in the depths of the house, of the past, of that mystical other World that might have flourished for her had she attended to its midnight hour calls. The mansion held, as it were, this mystical other World, and the indescribably finer murmur of its heart strings was the sigh there, the scarce audible wail it would cry out in the night. #RandolphHarris 3 of 10

With her presence, Mrs. Winchester awakened the ghostly life as the departed soul of the mansion enjoyed. They were mostly shy, but most of the were not really sinister; at least they were not as she had hitherto felt them—before they had taken the Form she so yearned to make them take, the Form she at moments saw herself in the light of fairly hunting on tiptoe, the points of her evening-shoes, from room to room and from storey to storey. However, Mrs. Winchester spent the rest of the night in a haze of sick fright and so tense that she could not make a single movement naturally. She was in such fear that any desire for action that came to her might be prompted by the Influence that she knew was at work on her. And outside of the barrier that ghastly thing went round and round, grabbing and grabbing in the air at her. There was a horrible wind blowing upon her from the corner of the room to the left of her bed. Then, just as the first touch of dawn came into the sky the unnatural wind ceased in a single moment and she could see no sigh of the hand. The dawn came slowly and presently the wan light filled. However, at about midnight, Mrs. Winchester had a queer knowledge that something was near to her, yet nothing happened for a whole hour after that. Then suddenly she felt the cold, queer wind begin to blow upon her. To her astonishment it seemed now to come from behind her and she whipped round with a hideous quake of feat. The wind hit her in the face. It was flowing up from the floor close to her. She started in a sickening maze of new frights. What on Earth had she done now! Suddenly, as she stared, bewildered, she was aware that there was something queer about her—a funny shadow movement and convolutions. She looked at them stupidly. And then, abruptly, Mrs. Winchester knew that the wind was blowing up at her from the floor. #RandolphHarris 4 of 10

A queer indistinct smoke became visible to her, seeming to pour upwards through the ring and mix with the moving shadows. Suddenly she realized that she was in more than any mortal danger, for the convoluting shadows about the floor were taking shape and the deadly-man in a top hate was forming within the room. “My goodness,” she said, “This forces has found a ‘gateway’ into my home and the brute is coming through—pouring into the material World, as gas might pour out from the mouth pipe.” Mrs. Winchester knelt for a couple of moments in a sort of stunned fright. Then with a mad, awkward movement, she grabbed for the fireplace poker and something invisible, something living, was jerking t hither and tither. In an instant, it was torn from her grasp with incredible and brutal force. A great black shadow covered it and rose into the air and came at her. She saw that it was the man, vast and nearly in perfect form. Mrs. Winchester gave one crazy yell and jumped over the pentacle and the ring of burning candles and ran despairingly for the door. She fumbled idiotically and ineffectually with the key, and all the time she started, with the feat that was like insanity, toward the Barriers. The man with the top hat was floating towards her. However, the monster was chained, unable to reach her bed. She sprang from the room and slammed the door with a crash. Mrs. Winchester locked it and got to her Blue Séance Room, somehow; for she was trembling so that she could hardly stand, as you can imagine. She locked herself in the room and managed to get the candle lit; then she laid down on the floor and kept quiet for an hour or two, and so she grew steadier. #RandolphHarris 5 of 10

Mrs. Winchester got some rest, but when she woke, she was surrounded by a glowing star of a pentacle. Apparently Mrs. Winchester had tried an exorcism. Exorcism is the process of expelling evil spirits from persons or places by certain adjurations, incantations, magic acts, and formulas. Among ancient peoples, exorcise depended largely o the efficacy of magical formulas, commonly compounded of the names of deities, and repeated with magical ritual over the bodies or object that is possessed. Power to expel evil spirits supposedly resided in the words themselves. Therefore, great importance was attached to the correct recital of the right formulas and the meticulous observance of the prescribed ritual. The recovery of important incantation texts and magical papyri from Babylonian, Assyrian, and Egyptian antiquity demonstrates the widespread believe in demon inhabitation and use of exorcisms. The same prevalence of demon inhabitation has been encountered in the Worldwide missionary outreach from about 1750 to the present. The penetration of China, India, Japan, Burma, Ceylon, and other countries with the Christian gospel has revealed the hold of demonism on pagan cultures and the varied methods of exorcism of evil spirits. The same phenomena exist among primitive people of South America, Africa, and the islands of the sea. The theory is that spirits seek to inhabit the bodies of men (and also animals) to find a resting place and in some inscrutable way obtain physical gratification. When the demon-possessed is in the demonized state and unconscious, inflected physical pain or pleasure is supposedly transferred to the possessing spirit. Discomfort will drive one out of his abode. #RandolphHarris 6 of 10

When prostituted into a ritualistic rigmarole, as in white magic, it becomes a deceiving tool in the hands of Satan’s agents to delude the undiscerning by false miracles and spurious healings. Such diabolic miracles do not destroy Satan’s kingdom, but build it up. Diabolical exorcism does not produce true dispossession, but a mere reallocation. Demonic healing may relieve physical symptoms, but substitute a physical ill or doctrinal form of error. This subterfuge explains in part the increase of theological decadence and phenomenal growth of sect and cults within professing Christianity in these latter days. Under demon control, one of Mrs. Winchester’s servants, a young lady, insisted she must dance for the construction workers, which she did wildly and uncontrollably and with every evidence of demon possession. She became so violent that the only way to control her was to hold her by the hair. Her violent jerking almost pulled out her hair. When the young lady came to, she was asked why she was lying on the floor, but she did not know. She was asked if anyone had pulled her hair, she disavowed any knowledge of it. When she was asked to dance, she replied, “No. I do not know how to dance.” She was sweet, modest, and quiet and completely delivered from the demon that her possessed her. White magic is not always so easy to see its true nature. This form of magic more widespread than black magic, the reason being that it often hides itself behind a religious exterior. Hence, as we have said before, one needs to have great discernment in these matters in order to recognize the forces that are actually being called into play. #RandolphHarris 7 of 10

The religious trimmings can be very deceptive. Again an example: A farm worker at the Winchester mansion was told by a doctor that he would have to have his leg amputated. Because he wanted to save his leg at all costs he went to visit a magic charmer without the doctor’s knowledge. This man told him, “You will have to believe me if you want to be healed.” He went on to repeat a magic charm and then said the Lord’s prayer three times. The man’s pain immediately vanished and when he returned to the hospital it was no longer necessary for his leg to be amputated. The doctors were puzzled. Later however, the man began to suffer from various psychic disturbances and his family to became accident-prone after this. White magic is more often than not accompanied by certain symbols that may include the use of the names of the Trinity, three Lord’s prayers, three verses of Scripture, three psalms, or three crosses and so on. People are thereby deceived and the method of healing is thus often mistaken for true Christian healing. In reality however, the third commandment is being broken, which says, “You shall not take the name of the Lord you God in vain.” Man cannot dictate to God, and man cannot treat God as a servant who is willing to jump to the aid of every magic charmer who so invokes Him. The Bible relegates both charming and the mechanical use of the Scriptures themselves to the level of sorcery, and so we find that white magic is merely black magic under a different guise. Satan is indeed transformed into an angel of light. The sense of compulsion connected with white magic is something quite different from the attitude of faith in the Christian who says, “They will be done.” #RandolphHarris 8 of 10

Black magic becomes a minor legend for its exuberant offensiveness. Blasphemy is a regular component in life, while the most innovative creators in in this maturing medium of occultism shows increasing sympathy for the Devil. Satanic fringes are part of popular culture. People are so bored with the normal that they seek out the occult. Many people want to have a supernatural experience so they can feel alive, be entertained, and have something to talk about. Some people have a great fascination for all that is dark, forbidden, and feared. They consider the Devil their personal God. A daily routine of ritual and magic is normal for some. It is a way for them to open doors to outer gateways and let the Dark Ones march through. Often times, paintings can function as sigils [occult symbols], and create change in accordance with the Magician’s desires, and ultimately fashion a new Dark Aesthetic, and the creation of a Universal Satanic Necropolis. Artwork or any craft can be fueled by the powers of Satan, and it is possible that it will become popular for people who do great works to say, “the Devil made me do it.” Events, ranging from fires and weird illnesses to Earthquakes and ritual murders have been blamed on certain objects, art, and people, and that is why you will notice certain events get cancelled, have to be rescheduled and so forth. This is also why some have to take out extra insurance for their work, family members or property. Handlers have gotten wind of past experiences. Schedasi, Weduse, Tiwisi—I have sinned, I shall sin. Prayer—Eternal God of our all! Our God! hear our voice, spare and have mercy upon us. Accept our prayer in mercy and with pleasure. I have sinned. I have committed transgressions. I have sinned before Thee; I have done that which is displeasing unto Thee here in the Earth. #RandolphHarris 9 of 10

For the sake of Thy great name pardon me all the sins and iniquities and transgression which I have committed against Thee from my youth. Perfect again all the holy names which I have blemished, great champion, terrible, highest God, eternal Lord, God Sabaoth. In the mystery of these vestures of the Holy Ones, I gird up my power in the girdles of righteousness and in truth in the power of the Most High: Ancor: Amacor: Amides: Thoedonias: Anitor: let be might by power: let it endure for ever: in the power of Adonai, to whom the praise and the glory shall be; whose end cannot be. I invoke and move thee, O thou Spirit Purson: and being exalted above ye in the power of the Most High, I say unto thee, Obey! in the name Beralensis, Baldachuensis, Paumachia, and Apologiae Sedes: and of the mighty ones who govern, spirits, Liachidae and ministers of the House of Death: and by the Chief Prince of the seat of Apologia in the Ninth Legion, I do invoke thee and my invoking conjure thee. Ans being exalted above ye in the power of the Most High, I say unto thee, Obey! in the name of him who spake and it was, to whom all creatures and things obey. Moreover I, whom God made in the likeness of God, who is the creator according to his living breath, stir thee up in my name which is the voice of wonder of the mighty God. We need to come to understand that when creating changes within self for the sake of empowerment our external reality also begins to shift reflecting that internal empowerment. When working toward creating external shifts within our external reality our spirit is also empowered by simply exercising our own divine power. #RandolphHarris 10 of 10

Winchester Mystery House

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Her Life Was Unavoidably Affected by Departed Souls

According to legend, Mrs. Winchester enacted a nightly séance to help with her building plans and for protection from “bad” spirits. While she sometimes drew up simple sketches of the building idea, there were never any blueprints…or building inspectors! In the morning, she would meet with John Hansen, her dutiful foreman, and go over new changes and additions. There was an Electric Pentacle in the Blue Séance Room which was the most marvellous “Defense” against certain manifestations. Mrs. Winchester used the shape of the defensive star for this protection because she had, personally, no doubt at all that there was some extraordinary virtue in the old magic figure. Sometimes Mrs. Winchester had little doubt during her séances that she had run up against an abnormal monster, and she meant to take every possible care, for the dangers was abominable. One night, Mrs. Winchester turned to fit the Electric Pentacle, setting it so that each of its “points” and “vales” of the drawn pentagram upon the floor. Then she connected up the battery and the next instant the pale blue glare from the intertwining vacuum tubes shone out. She glanced about her then, with something of a sigh of relief, and realized suddenly that the dusk was upon her, for one of the windows had turned black and unfriendly. Then she stated round at the big, empty room, over the double-barrier of electric and candle light, and had an abrupt, extraordinary sense of weirdness thrust upon her—in the air, you know, it seemed; as it were a sense of something inhuman impending. The room was full of the stench of bruised garlic, and everyone knew Mrs. Winchester hated for the aroma of food to whiff out of the kitchen. #RandolphHarris 1 of 7

Mrs. Winchester did not know what was going to materialize. No idea of what kind of ab-natural creature was going to manifest, but she had an idea something horrible was lurking. She could feel its presence and was in fear of what she was going to see. You see, she never forgot that thirteen staff members had been strangled, one after the other, when entering the east wing, and the fierce slamming of the door she heard herself. She had no doubt that there was something dangerous and ugly out to get her. The Christian Bible warns that Satanic delusions will be abound in the last days. It was nervy work waiting for that thing to come into the Blue Séance Room. Suddenly, Mrs. Winchester was aware that the candles were all a-flickering in an unnatural wind sweeping over her, coming from behind. She gave one great nerve-thrill and a prickly feeling went all over the back of her head. Then she pulled herself around with a sort of stiff jerk and stared straight against that queer wind. It seemed to come from the corner of the room to the left of the bed—the place where both times she had found the heap of notes the spirits had given her about the 500 rooms they wanted constructed in the mansion and exterior elevations that they found appealing. Yet she could see mothing unusual, no opening—nothing! Abruptly she was aware that the candles were all a-flicker in that unnatural wind…she just squatted there and stared in a horribly frightened, stone way for some moments. It was disgustingly horrible sitting in that vile, cold wind! And then—flick! flick! flicky! all the candles round the outer barrier went out, and there she was, locked and sealed in the Blue Séance Room with no light beyond the weakish blue glare of the Electric Pentacle. #RandolphHarris 2 of 7

A time of abominable tenseness passed and still that wind blew upon her, and then she suddenly knew that something stirred in the corner to the left of the table. Mrs. Winchester was made conscious of it rather by some inward, unused sense, than by either sight or sound, for the pale, short-radius glare of the of the Pentacle gave but a very poor light for seeing by. Yet, as Mrs. Winchester started, something began slowly to grow upon my sight—a moving shadow, a little darker than the surrounding shadows. She lost the thing amid the vagueness and for a moment or two she glanced swiftly from side to side with a fresh, new sense of impending danger. Mrs. Winchester then cast a spell, “I offer my hair as a symbol of my spiritual ties to the powers of divine darkness eternal.” Then she burned the strand of hair upon the flame dropping what remained into the urn. “I offer my blood so that in its place the venomous powers of darkness will flow through my veins!) She dropped 13 drops of blood upon the candle. Next the incantation said, “I offer my flesh as a vehicle for the powers of darkness to move through me and act in this World according to my own divine will.” She allowed the flame to burn her hand slightly. “I offer these nails as spears to pierce the very essence of my enemies whether they be of the World or those who dwell beyond the veil of limitation! (She touched the nails to the flame and then dropped them upon the urn.) “I offer these ashes which are my limitations and obstacles consumed by this, they very blackened fire of becoming! (She sprinkled a bit of ash upon the urn and then smeared a bit upon her ajna chakra.) Next she chanted, “All ashes from magickal work should be saved as they will serve the black adept well in their sorcerous applications.” #RandolphHarris 3 of 7

Mrs. Winchester suddenly noticed that there were five flaming Fibonacci spirals moving counter clockwise, which caused a physical manifestation of the ever-expanding powers of darkness infiltrating the limits of the corporeal realm. These flaming spirals were in the Circle of Counter Creation and were aethyrically present as the seals were fed with the blood of the sorceress. Mrs. Winchester was aware in a funny, subconscious, introspective fashion that the “creeps” had come upon her, prickling all over her head, yet she was cooler mentally than she had been for some minutes; sufficiently so to feel that her hands were sweating coldly. The faint noises from the bed creased once and there was a most intense silence, with only the dull thudding of the blood beating in her head. Yet immediately afterwards Mrs. Winchester heard again the slurring sound of the blood being sucked into the seals. In the midst of her nervous tension. Then there was a time of absolute quietness then for perhaps a couple of minutes and you can imagine how horrible she felt. The blood had been guzzled with such savageness! And then again the abominable unnaturalness of the thing that had just been done before her! Suddenly, over b the door, she heard a faint noise—a sort of crickling sound and then a pitter or two upon the floor. A great nervous thrill swept over her, seeming to run up her spine and over the back of her head, for the seal that secured the door had just been broken. Something else was there. Mrs. Winchester could not see the door; at least, it was impossible to say how much she actually saw and how much her imagination supplied. She made it out only as a continuation of the expanding darkness. There was an indistinct wavered there among the shadows. #RandolphHarris 4 of 7

Abruptly she was aware that the door was opening with an effort, as she got up to see what was coming in, the door slammed with a terrific crash that filled the whole room with a sort of hollow thunder. Mrs. Winchester jumped like a frightened child. There seemed such a power behind the noise, as if a vast, wanton Force were “out.” Can you understand? She knew that was abroad was dangerous to Life. Therefore, beware, when people think of Satan merely as a man with a tail and horns, and just mock at the idea of a real devil, they make a terrible mistake and thus enable Satan to ensnare and attack his victims without hindrance. Mrs. Winchester was truly haunted and tried everything she know how to do to rid herself of these evil spirits the curse her fortune. The most dangerous area of satanic seduction is magic, for it is here that people consciously participate in Satan’s work even though he hides behind a camouflage of pious ceremonies. The ritual Mrs. Winchester performed began in total darkness. After the preliminary invocation, the four cardinal points were invoked, symbolically opening the “Gates of Hell.” The circle of light revealed the scarlet-robed priest seated on a throne, who appeared to be a werewolf. After the spell was cast. The red-robed invocator, half man, half beast appeared and drank from the seal. Mrs. Winchester, however, was attempting to close the gates of hell, not open them. Greater magic is regarded as the accomplishment of changes in the objective Universe through those great subjective outpourings of the will summoned during a ritual. This is how curses work. #RandolphHarris 5 of 7

Modern America, much like Victorian times, can be a dark and scary place, largely inhabited by deeply ignorant people with an aching desire to crucify anything they regard as deviant. And although the media so often preaches the gospel of individual responsibility, it rarely applies that philosophy. The usual suspects are dragged out—the Internet, neo-Nazism, computer games, Hollywood films, rap, rock music, and TV shows, but some how the TV news who constantly airs evil, which they profit off of, goes unnoticed. They do not want to have discussions because it may diffuse their profits. Instead, local news just expands the time limits of their evil content, and then say they do not have time to discuss it. But, if your local news if on the air 7 hours a day, they do have time to talk, but they know the only thing that keeps them on the air is lies, crimes, and violence because it is entertaining and can compete with TV shows. Furthermore, one will notice, if at a crime scene where The Satanic Bible is found or other occult symbols or objects, it is immediately labelled a “Satanic crime”—whereas a crime sense where The Holy Bible is found or where people are calling on God or there are biblical signs and symbols, it is not automatically identified as “Christian crime.” Just as the ignorant like to maintain they were made in the image of God, they also prefer to believe the Devil was fashioned from the likeness of that weird family down the street that work at the TV station. The ritual of driving the scapegoat out into the desert, stemming from biblical times, persists into the new millennium. Satanists will continue to play with “spiritual nitroglycerine,” while taking responsibility for their own actions and insisting that others accept responsibility for theirs. #RandolphHarris 6 of 7

In embracing perennial Christian taboos, rejecting both the tradition of scapegoating and the “victim culture,” we intend to prevent present-day idiocies from dragging the next millennium into another miserable Dark Age. If a new Satanic Age is born, it will be born from the ideals of curiosity, independence and pleasures. From a Satanic perspective, there is room for optimism. The Devil is winning. Christians cannot control themselves or modify their behaviors to honor their God. Seekers after supernatural cures may be deluded into a healing by demon-energized magic. The power to heal diseases is frequently manifested in spiritism, mafic, and demon possession. The clairvoyant medium often claims that one can heal the body, as well as foretell the future. The magical charmer and mesmerizer can both cure and cause diseases. The person afflicted with an evil spirit is often promised ability to cure physical ailments if he will serve the dominating demon. The danger of delusion increases in these last days as demonic activity accelerates and serious study of God’s Word wanes. Satan heals but demands some sort of payment in the form of psychic enslavement, cult involvement, or bondage to some for of fanaticism. Black-magic conjuration openly uses the name of Satan and demonic powers. People who are dept in the black arts and workers of diabolic miracles open doors to the unknown. Such occultists were popular in the courts of ancient pagan kings. They not only advised the heads of government but performed supernatural feats, including magical charming of the sick. The ability of such magicians is conditioned on the human plane by their inherent psychic power, and on the supernatural plane by their degree of abandonment to demonic domination. We may never know if Mrs. Winchester built her house to accommodate the spirits, but over the years the story has come down that she believed her life was unavoidably affected by departed souls. #RandolphHarris 7 of 7

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Winchester Mystery House

At this 160-room mansion built to appease departed spirits, some guests have caught some interesting shadows on camera during their visits to the house. What do you think? See more on The Walk With Spirits Tour this weekend!

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The Haunting Sweetness—I Have Nothing to Live for!

It may be—I do not say that it is—but it may be that it is as unreasonable to require a ghost to appear in an atmosphere of cold skepticism as to require a photograph to be developed in a blaze of sunlight. There is a stairway in the Winchester mansion that appears to lead to the ceiling and stop, but it does lead to somewhere. “This stairway,” Mrs. Winchester concluded, with the graceful movement of her arm, which seemed no less natural than the musical quaver in her tone—“this stairway leads to my son’s rooms.” For the first time in my brief experience of Mrs. Winchester the quiet serenity of expression which constituted one of the many charms of her beautiful face left it utterly. The large, deep brown eyes were visible to me now only through the screen of dropping lashes. The coils of her glorious brown hair were beneath my eyes. She had bent her heard with the manifest purpose of concealing some too poignant emotion. For the space of a minute I had to gaze vacantly at the sudden brownness of her smooth brow, the quick curl of her exquisite red lip. The change from the response of manner which made the mere presence of this lady soothing disconcerted me. I felt a sudden wonder that one so fair to behold should have remained a widow. Then I glanced over my shoulder at the stairway. Access to the wide flight of waxed wood steps was denied by a ceiling curiously at the top of the staircase. My eye followed the stairway to the ceiling. It was that of the top floor. Like everything connected with this Queen Anne Victorian mansion, the was mysterious and of a massive scale. They wound about the turn of the stairway at the top floor and were lost to view behind heavy green curtains of velvet. As I gazed curiously, I heard the notes of one of Beethoven’s most mystical compositions coming from the Grand Ball room. #RandolphHarris 1 of 18

My ears had but begun to drink in the rhythm when I experienced an uncanny shock of what I can only call suspicion. It was the sort of sensation I had had when, years before, I felt intuitively the presence of a person hiding in my room. The instinct had not misled me then. I was sure it did not mislead me now. There was no shadow of doubt in my mind that behind the curtain above us at the head of those stairs lurked an eavesdropper. There seems to linger in things material some trace of the personality of him or her by whose daily contact they once derived their atmosphere or their essence. I know not what term may best denote the subtle influence of the individual upon surrounding objects. A suggestion of it came vividly into my mind as my eye roved up the stair and was halted by the curtain. All objects here conveyed their messages as plainly as a whisper in the ear. The half light seemed charged with intimations of an unrevealed but not unsuspected presence. The very floor beneath my feet, like the ceiling overheard, was telling some story, and telling it in a way that thrilled. However, that lady at my side was moved, apparently, only by the music floating to us from behind the curtain. “That is William himself playing,” I heard her whisper. I withdrew my eyes from the stairway and gazed ne more at the widow’s pale face. Mrs. Winchester was always lovely to look upon, but each time she alluded to her son the light in her deep brown eyes made her seem young despite the wealth she had acquired. She withdrew noiselessly from the gate at the foot of the stairway, and I had no alternative but to follow. We were in the library below before she said another word. “You shall meet my son at dinner; that is, if he comes down to dinner.” She hesitated. Her soft hand clutched the handkerchief she held. “You will not mention that gate to my son?” #RandolphHarris 2 of 18

Her eyes framed a piteous appeal to me as she asked that. I bowed my head, fearing lest a word might wound her. “My son is a little—fanciful.” She brought out the last word by a visible effort. “No one goes to the top floor—not even myself—except the housekeeper.” I had no time to reply before she fled, leaving me to work among the books. Instead of delving at once among the mass of papers upon the library table, I mused for some minutes upon the mystery of the forbidden floor. I have never seen the young man who held such undisturbed possession there. My own connection with this household had begun only a day or two before. My presence in the mansion was due to the anxiety of Mrs. Winchester to give the World an authentic biography of her late distinguished husband. His career had been no less varied than it seemed brilliant. This splendour of his Civil War record and his presidency of the Winchester Repeating Arms Company caused his election to conspicuous public posts. He had served his native and in her diplomatic corps. Great financial enterprises owed their success to his administrative genius. One of his speeches was so perfect a specimen of a certain kind of oratory as to have found a place in the school readers. The widow of this brilliant man had been shocked by what he purported to be accurate versions of her husband’s career. These had been exploited in various periodicals and newspapers in a fashion calculated to discredit the motives of the dead man at one great crisis in the nation’s destiny. Mrs. Winchester burned to vindicate the good name of him whose memory was to her so sacred. The executors of her husband’s estate had made me a most flattering offer to undertake the task of a biographer. The prospect of a few months in the country amid surroundings so conducive to my personal comfort was too tempting to resist, quite apart from all considerations respecting the liberal stipend offered by the widow. #RandolphHarris 3 of 18

This was the second day of my residence in the Winchester mansion. I had no clue the character of the widow’s son. I gathered from the somewhat vague details supplied by the reticent lawyer who engaged me in the city that William Winchester II, was a gifted but somewhat fantastic young man, who wrote poetry and painted. From the elderly housekeeper who showed me to my room on the night of arrival, I derived the additional impression that he kept much to himself. It now appeared that he barred himself against intrusion behind a gate. For the extreme beauty of the widow, I had been totally unprepared. I had expected to find an ancient dame living in the past. I found, instead, a gracious lady, white-haired, to be sure, but seductive in the willowy lightness of her figure and irresistible through the fresh beauty of her face. It was time to dress for dinner when my preliminary inspection of the late president and general’s correspondence was completed. The intimacy of the relation revealed in the letters with men who have made our country’s history was astounding. It was obvious that a biograph of the eminent statesman would prove highly sensational, disclosing, as it must, unsuspected factors in the growth of our republic from an isolated nation to a position of supreme importance among the great powers of the World. One or two episodes of historical importance with which these letters were concerned made it imperative to consult not only the widow, but the son, before any details could be made public. I had not spent two hours in a study of the documents before me, yet I was already in possession of political secrets for which many a sensational publication would pay considerable sums. #RandolphHarris 4 of 18

My appreciation of this face made me a little uncomfortable. What if the facts now in my possession were disclosed prematurely through someone’s indiscretion? I might be accused of betraying a confidence. In much perplexity I restored the bundles of letter to the great desk at which I worked. I must consult the dead man’s son without delay. As I left the library for the dining room my ear caught the strains of music from the top of the house. I halted at the head of the stairs. The keys of a piano were evidently responding to the hand of a master. I could have listened for an hour. The air was quite unknow to me, although the rhythm vaguely suggested the Italian school. The thought flashed through my mind that I might be listening to one of the young man’s own compositions. In the event that, William Winchester II was a genius. My eye met that of the old house keeper. She stood mutely and with the rigidity of a statue, gazing down at my upturned face. I felt a moment’s annoyance. This old lady might be one of those disagreeable people whose aptitude for watching unobserved suggests a tendency to by sly. “Master William will not be down tonight, sir,” she said. Her tone was hushed. Her manner was respectful enough. I could not help thinking, as I studied her lined face, that she alone had access to the forbidden floor. With her last word she disappeared, and I went on down. Whatever intentions I had formed to discuss the matter perplexing me with Mrs. Winchester herself were foiled by the presence of guests. One of these was a graceful young lady, dark-eyed and tall with a becoming gravity of manner. The other was her father, a local judge, pompous and little, with that self-assertiveness which a career on the bench does so much to develop in a man. #RandolphHarris 5 of 18

“So you’re Mr. Axelrod, are you?” he snapped, seizing my hand. “Glad to meet you. I hope you’ll turn out a right account of my old friend, the Senator and President of Winchester Repeating arms.” With that he dropped my hand, or rather flung it from him. I was so extremely amused by his swelling port that I at once forgave the brusqueness of this little judge. One could have forgiven a man with such a daughter. Miss Parfrey soothed where her father ruffled. She deferred where he played bully. But she was hopelessly eclipsed by the dazzling beauty of the brown-haired woman. Mrs. Winchester wore a decollete dress of black and lace, which covered her all the way up to her neck down to her ankles. Her perfect arms were fluttering in motion. Her manifest regret at the absence of her son lent to the smile with which she favored us in turn an inexpressible melancholy that sweetened her face like a perfume. I understood that the judge was a widower. If he could be trying to court our hostess, I wondered. “So William won’t come down from the top of the house!” I heard the judge say as he finished his pot roast. “Gad! He’s behaving like his ancestress.” He looked about him at the rest of us while a broad grin creased his jowl on both sides. I had been exchanging ideas with Miss Parfery on the subject of Venice, but the loud tones in which His Honor proclaimed his impression challenged our attention. “His ancestress!” I repeated blankly, no one else having volunteered an observation. “His ancestress!” repeated Judge Parfrey, attacking the game just set in front of him. “She was to have been married from this very house to an officer of Washington’s army.” Mrs. Winchester proffered this observation in her musical tone. She had not shown much interest in the conversation until now. #RandolphHarris 6 of 18

“The Senator told me the story,” proceeded the judge. “The Revolutionary War was raging at that time.” I glanced at the countenance of Mrs. Winchester. A flushed which heightened her beauty a moment before had left her cheeks entirely. “Did the marriage of William’s ancestress take place?” she inquired faintly. “Gad, no!” cried the judge. “Her betrothed came to this very house a day or two before the wedding was to take place—” He hesitated. “And the British captured him?” I suggested. “They captured her,” replied the judge with a laugh. “Her lover caught her kissing Lord Cromwell’s aided-de-camp on the top floor.” “Then she married the Briton instead of the Yankee!” I made the observation as gaily as I could for the sake of lifting the pall which seemed to have dropped upon the subject. My effort was vain, for the retort of the judge seemed to extinguish us completely. “She married neither,” he said shortly. “Until the day of her death she never left that top floor.” I exchanged glances with Miss. Parfrey. Mrs. Winchester too a sip of coffee. The judge, unaware of the mischief he had done stuck to the theme all night. He was still pointing the moral of the legend when his car arrived to take him home. I heard him taking his noisy leave of his hostess at the door, his loud voice relieved at intervals by a brief remark from his daughter. In the matter of apparitions…popular and simple human testimony is of more considerable weight than is the purely scientific testimony. Mrs. Winchester was still very place when she came back to the dining-room. “I think I will say good night,” she observed faintly. I saw her clutch the back of the chair. In a moment I was at her side. “It is nothing,” I heard her cry. “I am afraid our conversation this evening upset you,” I ventured. However, she shook her head. “Arthur’s absence upset me.” I could just catch her whisper. “He seemed very much attached to her—once. Now he will not even come downstairs for a sight of her.” #RandolphHarris 7 of 18

I understood. I could only gaze in silent sympathy into her face. Then she extended her hand, bade me good night, and left the room. I lit a cigar and made my way to the library. It was close upon midnight as I sank into a great leather chair, yet the thought of bed made me restless. My purpose in coming to this house seemed defeated already. I smoked on in the darkness until I heard a clock behind me chime at the hour. The silver strokes beat the air one after another, until the toll of twelve reminded me that a new day was brining me a duty. I got upon my feet with a disconcerting sense that the location of the electric button that switched on the light was a mystery to be solved. I took a single step toward the window, when a moving something drew my eye to the great bookcase looming in the shadow against an opposite wall. Slowly and steadily the object grew luminous as I watched it. The wraith of a feminine form defined itself to my staring eyes with a loveliness so appealing that, in spite of the thrill, I felt at the root of each hair on my head I would not have sold the sight before me for a bag of gold. It is a mistake to think the giants rumored to lurk the halls of the Winchester mansion were all blood-sucking creatures as the causeway guides say, but, bare in mind they were in drink, were as peaceable as rabbits. I saw a pair of sloping shoulders beneath a firmly chiseled neck. I saw a rounded waist and a delicate hand pressed to a smooth cheek. The long robe forming the vestment of this apparition was twined about the curves of the figure after the fashion favored by all sculptors of Greek goddesses. Only the face was kept from me. I remained for the first few minutes of this experience as motionless as the fantom at which I stared. I did not stir until I saw it glide. The apparition darted and halted, darted and halted, making, it seemed, for the wide door at the extremity of the vast apartment. #RandolphHarris 8 of 18

As I kept pace with its advance I marveled at the ethereal grace revealed in every stage of this mute progress. The restless clock seemed eager to accompany us through the darkness, so quick was its ticking to my ear. I had never quivered with so icy a chill as now galvanized my limbs into a kind of movement so like that of this ghost before me that I seemed unearthly to myself. On, on we went, through the door and out upon the rug beyond. Not until the staircase halted the spectre for a moment did it turn. For the first time I looked into the face. Prepared though I was by the unspeakable perfection of form before me for a loveliness of feature which could alone accompany a presence so angelic, the countenance upon which I was allowed to gaze at last transformed me for the instant into a living statue. the chin, rounded with a beauty that told also of strength; the nose, straight, firm, positive, yet delicate, sensitive, tremulous; the brow, noble and serene—these details blended themselves into an expressiveness that caught its quality from a pair of eyes into which I could not look. They did not seem to evade me. The figure kept its gaze upon the floor. The light radiated from the eyes was that, I saw now, which lent its effulgence of the fantom. I realized by a species of intuition that one glance of these orbs meant the loss of consciousness for any upon whom it fell. No one could have endured the delicious shock of so much beauty. I followed to the very top of the next flight of stairs. The fantom climbed another storey, and on I stole. It made for the gated that afforded access to the forbidden floor. There it halted, and turned to beckon me. I saw the folds of its vesture broaden like a wide white wing as the moving arm it waved pointed on and upward. Then it climbed the stair. I was at the ceiling, too, now, and I could not open the door. An instant recollection of the mother’s warning words enabled me to take my eyes from the fantom for the first time. I could not go any further or search for a secret passageway without becoming guilty of a breach of trust. #RandolphHarris 9 of 18

Yet I could no more have gazed at all this grace and beauty, fantom and thing of shadow though it was, without slavish obedience to its least behest than Paris and the men on the walls of Troy could contemplate the loveliest of women without falling in homage at her feet. I put a hand to my brow as I stole guiltily down to the library with all the silence of the ghost I had just beheld. The spacious apartment allotted to me was directly off the library itself. I had but to grope my way to a corner familiar now and find my bed. I fell upon it like a log. The staring sun roused me with my clothes still on and the vapors of an indescribable intoxication in my head. I made haste to change my clothes. The water of my bath seemed oddly warm, although I took it cold. I was in the dining-room before it occurred to me to look at my watch. It was nearly noon. Master William still will not leave the top floor this day. As I passed Mrs. Winchester, the sweet widow was looking at her garden. “I was afraid you might grow fanciful after that anecdote the judge told us last night,” she began, as I crossed the parlor where she took. “Do you believe in Ghosts, Mr. Axelrod?” I gazed keenly into her eyes for a minute. She was smiling. “Do I look as if I had seen a ghost?” I put the question gaily, but I could feel the beating of my heart. “My family and my fortune are being haunted by spirits—in fact of American Indians, Civil War soldiers, and others killed by the Winchester riles. The untimely deaths of my daughter and husband were caused by these spirits, and some say I am the next victim. However, I have appeased the spirits by building a great mansion for them. As long as construction of my house never ceases, I can rest assured that my life will not be in danger. Building this house is even supposed to bring me eternal life. These spirits are a sort of heirloom.” #RandolphHarris 10 of 18

I could feel that thrill at the roots of my hair. “And what are these ghosts like?” “These ghosts can be friendly or not—but often show themselves in a variety of ways. They can become visible; they can speak or make noises, touch you or even emit an odor like perfume or cigar smoke, to let you know they are there. Sometimes there is a ghostly mist. The vaporous clouds usually appear several feet off the ground and can move swiftly or simply stay still—almost like it is orbiting. The noisy ghosts have the ability to move or knock things over, make noise and manipulate the physical environment. Sometimes I hear loud knocking sounds, lights turning on and off, door slamming, even fire breaking out mysteriously have all been attributed out to this type of a spiritual disturbance. These poltergeists become strong and dangerous. There are also orbs, they appear as a transparent or translucent ball of light that is hovering over the over the ground. It is believed that orbs are the soul of a human. This is what inspired the window I made. There are also ghosts that form cold spots and are kind of like a spiral of light. There are also demons in this mansion. They have powers to heal people who have been possessed and great supernatural abilities in exchange for worship and yielded service. However, if demon powers heal, they can also cause diseases. Their object is not to liberate the victim but to deceive and enslave him or her. They heal or cause sickness as it furthers their nefarious plans. What is more significant is that even when demons help heal physical diseases, they exact a price either in some type of occult oppression or psychic disturbance in their victim or by causing one to fall a prey to error. Demonic spirits always have Satan’s costly price tag attached to it. Once, I was overtaken by a witch doctor. He drew from a leather bag a bundle of papers on which were green and orange markings, an imitation of Arabic writing. He started to read to me from the book, and before I could stop him, he began nonsense reading in an ordinary voice. Then suddenly his voice changed. #RandolphHarris 11 of 18

“He was possessed, and I heard a demon through his lips telling me that I had a sick little girl in my house. (My daughter had been sick for several days after she was born, and as he was a total stranger it was unlikely that he would have heard it. Six weeks later she died,” said Mrs. Winchester. I withdrew to the library without even introducing the subject of that interview with William Winchester II for which I longed. He did not descend from the room above the stairs to the ceiling. I had the dining-room to myself that evening. Mrs. Winchester, or so the housekeeper said, was indisposed. As I seated myself in the library, after a solitary stroll through the shrubbery of the lawn, it occurred to me that, as the authorized biographer of the late General Winchester, I ought to look into his ancestry. It was an easy matter to find the family genealogy among the volumes on the well-stocked shelves. One county history dealt exclusively with the Winchester mansion in which I was now at work. The edifice was venerable—for America—and, inevitably, had served as the headquarters for spiritual séances. I was so deeply immersed in my historical reading as to let three full hours slip by. The stroke of twelve had caught me unawares. I thought of the night before and shivered. Then I switched off the light. The fantom arose from the ground at my very feet! Only the bell in the belfry of the dark mansion tolling reached my ear as I stood rigid in the fantom’s radiant presence. I gazed at the phantom. I was myself and not myself in feeling weirdly, supernaturally energized. The incompleteness of my life was extinguished in the full tide of a holier love than mortals have thrilled to. In the inspiring presence of this wraith, I felt capable of that faith which moves mountains. #RandolphHarris 12 of 18

The fleshly and the spiritual ceased to contend as I contemplated with reverence with the haunting sweetness before me. I could have conquered the World, founded empires—then I became the greatest of poets, endowed with a genius breathed into me by this irresistible ghost. There surged through me all imaginable ecstasies, glorious powers, finer perceptions than ever mortal had. I understood in a flash whatever in my past had baffled me with the mystery of the Winchester House. Strains of exquisite much floated through the mansion. One does not see a ghost, but surrenders to it as the wax yield to the flame. The occult subjection that results is from dabbling with occult literature. Magic is of a demonic character no matter under what name it is known. It is obvious that there is no mathematical proof that either God or the devil exist. Nevertheless there are many things that point to this demonic nature. The simple principal of cause and effect is hardly ever evident in a tangible enough form to prove by law that magic is the root case of some offence or crime, but also some very beautiful things. I did not come out of this trance until a movement of the fantom intimated subtly to me that I was to emerge from its enchantment. I grew aware that I was following the vision once again through the portal. The transcendent object of my infatuation conducted me straight to the forbidden floor. I was favored as before with its beauteous gesture. No thought of the ban so recently placed upon my presence here was in mind, even had I left any power to oppose my mortal will to this immortal spirit. I followed in unceasingly, unquestioningly. There was no physical obstacle to my progress anywhere. The mahogany entry affording access to the room above the stairs to the ceiling had been thrown open. #RandolphHarris 13 of 18

I set foot boldly upon the lowest step of the stair. The first contact seemed to afford me a definite sensation of personality in the very air. I can liken this feeling only to that bitter blast, the vague uneasiness, which is said to disseminate itself through the night as some vast iceberg skirts the coast of San Francisco. I had caught a chill, and I shivered. Nor for an instant did I halt. The stairway did not creak. By the time I had set foot upon its summit I was thrilling to some excitation, breathing in impressions like those one derives from moving passages of poetry or strong scenes in a play. I touched the wall only to find my feelings keener, my sensitiveness to the stimulation increased. All material objects exhaled the mystery stamped upon them by a person or an event in times past of which I was now absorbing impressions. I did not feel that murder had been done here. The tragedy was all of the heart, of the grief of a soul, of the perpetual and impotent longing of one who, loving, poured out an agony of sorrow to walls that caught the mood. The heart that had been crushed was a woman’s. This message, too, I was given by the impregnated air. The curtain at the summit of the stairway was pushed aside as if by a breath from some other World. I had attained a great quadrangular vestibule, tenantless except for the apparition and myself. The ghost, preceding me at an interval of some feet, was kneeling beside a wide window through which the warm night air came gently. I beheld a mass of the flowers in a vase upon a carved mahogany table with marble on its surface. I became conscious of the softness of Persian rugs beneath my feet. I moved as silently as the thing I followed. No attitude could express the forlornness of an indomitable grief more appealingly than that of the kneeling fantom. Magnetized by an attraction that made me daring, I touched the shoulder of the ghost. #RandolphHarris 14 of 18

The whiteness of one arm extended itself to my face. Slowly the vision grew toward me, folding itself closely about my neck and breast until the ghost literally rested in my arms. I could not see the features of my beloved as her unreal lips sought mine. I could not feel the long tresses I tried to stroke. I spoke no word as I vowed to cherish her in the World and prayed for death that I might be with her in the next. The mental and psychic damage done to me as a result of occultism was immense. I was infected by occultism. The time has passed in which witches and magicians were either burned or stoned to death. We must remember that magic itself is not to be understood by our five senses alone for it is rather a metaphysical and religious and extrasensory phenomenon. The tired moon that drooped prettily in the sky had sent a curious beam down here. My eye, habituated more and more to the sweet obscurity, caught now a sharper outline of the vase filled with flowers. The heavy table showed its carved proportions less reservedly. A mahogany chair, resisting as a sleeping monster might rest, upon the floor entered the enlarging field of my vision. The impression made by all these upon my spirits was one of personality radiating palpably from them. Not, indeed, that the objects had themselves this quality. I mean no more than that they emitted or effected suggestions of a personality with which they had been formerly in intimate contact. The darkness of that apartment, pierced by the beams from the window, seemed laden with such revelations. The great chair told of one who has reposed, and reposed gracefully, in its arms. The vase betrayed a secret it had caught concerning her who once delighted in its shapeliness. #RandolphHarris 15 of 18

Every emanation from the things around me was of evil purport. I was being warned. “And you will cherish me forever, beloved?” How I understood that she had put this question I can never tell. The words were not spoken. The language was not Earthly. A something within registered the appeal and responded to it. I told of my own unworthiness to be made the object of a celestial passion. I confessed my longing to reach the confines of the Universe in some high quest of a Holy Grail for her sake. I received the outpouring of her passionate regret that in an Earthly form years before she had cherished thoughts gross and material, the memory of which left her too sullied for the purity of my faith in her now. And her fantom arms were wreathed about my neck still, and her bowed head pillowed itself against me, and she quivered with ecstasies of which I partook as a leaf rises and falls with the breeze of a summer’s day. And her fantom arms were wreathed about my neck still, and her bowed head pillowed itself against me, and she quivered with ecstasies of which I partook as a leaf rises and falls with the breeze of a summer’s day. I besought her now to look into my eyes. I saw her head denying that petition. I received some mysterious intimation that the meeting of our gaze must entail an indescribable fatality, not to her but to me. I conveyed my sense of joy in such a circumstance. Here was the proof of my devotion awaiting her acceptance. Let me but gaze into those eyes and I would wander forever through the Universe a blissful spirit. However, she only kept her face buried upon my shoulder and held my head with her arms. I had begun a more impassioned plea when she rushed from my embrace, reeling to the window. I saw her fall upon her knees cowering. She covered her face with one hand, while, extending the other, she pointed to some object behind me. I turned and beheld—William Wirt Winchester II! #RandolphHarris 16 of 18

There was no mistaking those eyes, that slight forehead, the delicacy of each refined feature. He was his father’s son. For a terrible moment he and I glared into each other’s faces. I saw him raise an arm. He rushed forward. I threw myself between him and the fantom, but when I directed my gaze to its refuge the object of my infatuation had disappeared. The next moment William Winchester II had me by the throat. Then consciousness left me, but not for long. I was prone upon the floor when my senses returned and the arm of William Winchester II was about my head. “I saw her with you!” He spoke in the musical accents of his own mother, but grief never found utterance so wild. His tone was a revelation. I cried my reply with the voice of a man in panic. “She made your vows of an eternal love and you pledged yours in return.” He bowed his head once more. I realized the sense of betrayal that tortured him. The ghost had proved unfaithful. I was torn with his own jealously, but he proved to me that his ordeal had been worse than mine. “I saw her with you!” he said. “One torture has been spared you. You never saw her when her gaze rested upon—me!” I hated him for a second time. Then I conquered my worst self and pitied him. He had removed his arm from my head and was assisting me to my feet. “We shall never see her again.” It was I who said this. He buried his face in his hands. “She was too timid,” he murmured faintly, “to let us look into her eyes.” The question elicited from me by this remark led to further revelations. He, too, had held mysterious communion with the infatuating wraith; had confessed a longing to reach the confined of the Universe for her sake. To him, too, she had professed regret that in an Earthly form years before her thoughts were gross and material. #RandolphHarris 17 of 18

It is conceivable that emotions generated by a passed and passing life may be conditioned by the state of mind at dissolution. The living and the dying set up vibrations in the emotional atmosphere. These continue in agitation. The place grows haunted. An appropriate or corresponding vibration can alone can alone break the spell. When that meets this, the suspended chord is complete and comes to a full close. Or, an emotional scene which has translated itself, so to speak, into terms of a material plane can, like music in a phonograph, retranslate itself back again. I felt now that I had the clue to my ghost. The lady in seclusion on the forbidden floor so long ago had been true to her lover—in her fashion. He had, indeed, surprised her in the arms of another. It was a sentimental accident in her life. She was denied the opportunity to explain. She was possibly the victim of a man’s sudden impulse. My own infatuation with the rare and beauteous spirit had led me far. In any event the longing of the human soul to be understood—the craving of this lady to vindicate herself—persisted while she lived. It was her most vehement desire as she passed away. The very walls, the chair she sat in, the vase in which she arranged her daily nosegay, grew sick with this discarded lady’s longing. If telepathy from living mind to living mind is a force so mighty as to covey a visual image from Santa Clara to Oakland, is it not perfectly conceivable that a telepathic force which has been stored there by the terrific emotional impulse of original crimes—may be powerful enough to produce a visual image? It was so with me. I did not cease my scrutiny of the countenance of William Wirt Winchester II as these thoughts ran riot in my head. His mind was too manifestly overwhelmed by the shock it had sustained. He paled slightly and spoke at last in lone tones. “I have nothing to live for.” #RandolphHarris 18 of 18


I am enitrely convinced of the existence of the Spiritual World–that there are real intelligences in that World, and that it is possible for them under certain circumstances to communicate with this World.

Summer is *almost* here and it’s getting quite warm at the Winchester Estate! Have you ever experienced the house in the summertime?
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Why Does the Work Force Seem Riddled with Ulcer-Producing Levels of Angry and Envy?

It is hardly surprising that even smart executives seem confused. Some take Dale Carnegie courses on how to influence people, while others attend seminars on the tactics of negotiation, as though power were purely a matter of psychology or tactical maneuver. Still others privately bewail the presence of power in their firms, complaining on that power-play is bad for the bottom line—a wasteful diversion from the push for profit. They point to energy dissipated in personal power squabbles and unnecessary people added to the payroll of power-hungry empire-builders. When many of the most effect power wielders smoothly deny have any, confusion is redoubled. The bewilderment is understandable. Free-marketeer economists like Milton Friedman tend to picture the economy as an impersonal supply-and-demand machines and ignore the role of power in the creation of wealth and profit. Or they blandly assume that all the power struggles cancel one another out and thus leave the economy unaffected. This tendency to overlook the profit-making importance of power is not limited to conservative ideologues. One of the most influential texts in U.S.A. universitites is Economics by Paul A. Samuelson and William D. Nordhaus. Its latest edition carries an index that runs to twenty-eight pages of eye-straining fine print. Nowhere in that index is the word power listed. (An important exception to this power-blindness or purblindness among celebrated American economists has been J.K. Galbraith, who, regardless of whether one agrees with his other views, has consistently tried to factor power into the economic equation.) #RandolphHarris 1 of 20

Radical economists do a lot of talking about such things as business’s undue power to mold consumer wants, or about the power of monopolies and oligopolies to fix prices. They attack corporate lobbying, campaign contributions, and the less savory methods sometimes used by corporate interests to oppose regulation of worker healthy and safety, environment, progressive taxation, and the like. However, at a deeper level, even activists obsessed with limiting business power mistake (and underestimate) the role of power in the economy, including its beneficial and generative role, and seem unaware that power itself is going through a startling transformation. Behind many of their criticisms lurks the unstated idea that power is somehow extrinsic to production and profits. Or that the abuse of power by economic enterprises is a capitalist phenomenon. A close look at today’s powershift phenomenon will tell us, instead, that power is intrinsic to all economies. Not only excessive or ill-gotten profit, but all profits are partly (sometimes largely) determined by power rather than by efficiency. (If it has the power to impose its own terms on workers, suppliers, distributors, or customers, even the most inefficient firm can make a profit.) At virtually every step, power is an inescapable part of the very process of production—and this is true for all economic systems, capitalist, socialist, or whatever. Even in normal times, production requires the frequent making and breaking of power relationships, or their constant readjustment. However, today’s times are not “normal.” Heightened competition and accelerated change require constant innovation. Each attempt to innovate sparks resistance and new power conflict. #RandolphHarris 2 of 20

However, in today’s revolutionary environment, when different systems of wealth creation collide, minor adjustments often no longer suffice. Power conflicts take on new intensity, and because companies are more and more interdependent, a power upheaval in one firm frequently produces reverberating shifts of power elsewhere. As we push further into a competitive global economy heavily based on knowledge, these conflicts and confrontations escalate. The result is that the power factor in business is growing more and more important, not just for individuals but for each business as a whole, bringing power shifts that often have a great impact on the level of profit than cheap labor, new technology, or rational economic calculation. From budget-allocation battles to bureaucratic empire-building, business organizations are already increasingly driven by power imperatives. Fast-multiplying conflicts over promotions and hiring, the relocation of plants, the introduction of new machines, or products, transfer pricing, reporting requirements, cost accounting, and the definition of accounting terms—all will trigger new power battles and shifts. The Italian psychologist Mara Selvini Palazzoli, whose group studies large organizations, report a case in which two men together owned a group of factories. The present hired a consulting psychologist, ostensibly to boost efficiency. Telling him that morale was low, he encouraged the consultant to interview widely to find out why the work force seemed riddled with ulcer-producing levels of angry and envy. The vice-president and co-owner (30 percent, versus 70 percent owned by the president) expressed skepticism about the project. Hiring a consultant, the president shrugged, was merely “the thing to do” nowadays. #RandolphHarris 3 of 20

Analysis by Palazzoil’s group revealed a snake pit of power relationships gone awry. The consultant’s overt agenda was to increase efficiency. However, his real task was different. In actuality, the president and vice-president were at dagger-points and the president wanted an ally. Palazzoli and her group write: “The president’s secret agenda was an attempt to gain control, through the psychologist, of the whole company, including manufacturing and sales [which were largely under the control of his vice-president and partner]….The vice-president’s secret agenda was to prove himself superior to his partner and to show that his authority derived from his greater technical competence [id est, better knowledge] and more commanding personality.” The case is typical of many. The fact is that all businesses, large and small, operate in a “power field” in which the three basic tools of power—force, wealth, and knowledge—are constantly used in conjunction with one another to adjust or revolutionize relationships. However, what the above case chronicles is merely “normal” power conflict. In the decades just ahead, as two great systems of wealth creation come into violent collision, as globalization spreads and the stakes rise, these normal contests will take place in the midst of far greater, more destabilizing power battles than any we have yet seen. This does not mean that power is the only goal, or that power is a fixed pie that companies and individuals fight to divine, or that mutually fair relationships are impossible, or that so-called “win-win” deal (in which both sides gain) are out of the question, or that all human relationships are necessarily reduced to a “power nexus,” rather than to Marx’s famous “cash nexus.” #RandolphHarris 4 of 20

However, it strongly suggests that the immense shifts of power that face us will make today’s takeovers and upheavals seem small by comparison, and will affect every aspect of business, from employee relations and the power of different function units—such as marketing, engineering, and finance—to the web of power relations between manufacturers and retailers, investors and managers. Men and women will make those changes However, the instruments of change will be force, wealth, and knowledge and the things they covert into. For inside the World of business, as in the larger World outside, force, wealth, and knowledge—like the ancient sword, jewel, and mirror of the sun goddess Amaterasu-ominkami—remain the primary tools of power. Failure to understand how they are changing is a ticker to economic oblivion. If that were all, business-men and -women would face a time of excruciating personal organizational pressure. However, it is not all. For a powershift, in the full sense, is more than a transfer of power. It is a sudden, sharp change in the nature of power—a change in the mix of knowledge, wealth, and force. To anticipate the deep changes soon to strike, therefore, we must look at the role of all three. Thus, before we can appreciate what is happening to power based on wealth and knowledge, we must be prepared to take an unsettling look at the role of violence in the business World. One reason the “surplus complexity” imposed on consumers when companies bundle too many functions into a single product is hopes of widening its market, a holdover from the era of mass merchandising. #RandolphHarris 5 of 20

The result is cell phones that play music, take pictures, screen videos, offer games, track appointments, identify location, store memos and—if you are lucky—place and receive phones calls. Or a Volkswagen Passat that boasts of 120 different features, including a refrigerated glove compartment that can keep sushi cool. However, the more multi-functional a product, the more suboptimized its functions are, the more costly it is, and the more difficult it is to use. Since few customers want or need all the functions, the rest of us are victims of this surplus complexity. Complexity at the personal level is immensely amplified at the level of business, finance, the economy and society. In America, Elon Musk, who ought to know, speaks of “overcoming astronomically rising complexity.” In Germany, the Federal Financial Supervisory Board speaks of the “growing complexity of banking.” In Basel, Switzerland, the powerful Bank for International Settlements, which sets rules for banks all over the World and tells them how much capital they need to keep on hand, drafted a new set of proposed regulations called Basel II. These rules can shake up the World’s biggest banks, and governments everywhere are battling over them. Yet they were so obfuscating and complex that, according to banking consultant Emmanuel Pitsilis of McKinsey & Co., “Nobody understands 100 percent of Basel II or its implications.” Similarly, the United Nations Conference on Trade and Development is pulling together a collection of the financial and business instruments used in foreign direct investment and in deals among multinational corporations. Designed to be “conveniently available” to its user, the compendium runs to a mere fourteen volumes. #RandolphHarris 6 of 20

Welcome to “Complexorama”—the new everyday reality. Computers are supposed to help us cope with complexity, but software, according to MIT’s Technology Review, has “outrun our ability to comprehend it. It’s next to impossible to understand what is going on…whenever a program runs lager than a few hundred lines of code—and today’s desktop software contains millions of lines.” Microsoft’s ubiquitous Windows software contains fifty million lines of code and its Vista product even more. Says Ran S. Ross of the National Information Assurance Partnership, the complexity of I.T. systems themselves has “outstripped our ability to protect them,” making “complexity…the No. 1 enemy of security.” We see mounting complexity in every aspect of business, from scheduling and marketing to calculating taxes. Especially taxes. The Cato Institute in Washington reports that the American tax code has been changed no fewer than seven thousand times in the past two decades, requiring a 74 percent increase in the number of pages needed to print it. The complexity of the system costs Americans an estimated six billion hours each year spent filling out forms, trying to understand the rules and collecting and storing records of transactions. Then there is the compliant, by USA Today, that the perennially low American savings rate is being further depressed by complexity. With seven different types of individual retirement accounts and many others offered by employers, each with its own rules and constraints, “a once simple savings concept has grown into an incomprehensible thicket that can be stored out only by high-priced accountants.” #RandolphHarris 7 of 20

Exactly as one might therefore expect, the U. S. Bureau of Labor Statistics reports that positions for accountants are multiplying rapidly. As one job search firm puts it, the growing demand reflects the “increasing complexity of the corporate transactions and growth in government.” Yet another measure of skyrocketing complexity is the increase in sub-and sub-sub-specialties in many fields. Half a century ago, before the shift to a knowledge economy began, the health-care profession was divided into about ten specializations. Today there are more than 220 categories of medical professionals, says Dr. David M. Lawrence of the Kaiser Permanente health network. In the 1970s they had to stay abreast of approximately one hundred randomized, controlled clinical research trials a year. Today the annual number is ten thousand. Outside the United States of America, we see a slower but similar process of complexification at work. The European Union agency devoted to R&D speaks of the “growing complexity of all our societies,” adding that “companies’ ability to manage this complexity will be a determining factor for Europe’s future innovation capacity.” An official of the British prime minister’s Office of Public Reform reports that “more complex personal and social problems are presented for state solution” and that “national objectives for better education, health and other outcomes can only be successful by engaging with this complexity.” Meanwhile, Karola Kampf of the University of Mainz in Germany describes the escalating complexity of higher education. Kampf speaks of the “increasing number of system levels,” the multiplying types of “corporative actors” involved with the university, the rising importance of NGOs and “intermediary actors,” the “growing number of policy fields concerned with higher education” and a rise in “different modes of coordination.” #RandolphHarris 8 of 20

The mounting complexity of universities, however, whether in Europe or elsewhere, is nothing compared with the dizzying complexity of health-care systems dependent on fast-diversifying medical specializations, tests and forms of medical treatment, equipment, schedules, government regulations, financial and accounting arrangements—all constantly interacting at high speed. These are just a few examples. However, lay over these the additional intricate complexities of local, national and now global environmental regulations; financial and trade rules; disease controls; anti-terror constraints; negotiations over water and other resources; and an endless list of other interrelated functions, processes and laws. Then lay on top of that the complexities introduced by tends of thousands of NGOs each proposing or demanding it own new complexities. A decade ago, the Union of International Associations in Brussels published the two-volume Encyclopedia of World Problems and Human Potential. Its ambitions compendium listed no fewer than12203, “world problems,” each one cross-referenced to others that are “more general,” more specific, related, aggravating, aggravated, alleviating [or] alleviated.” The index to the section had no fewer than 53,825 entries, backed by a bibliography of 4,650 sources. And that was then. We are moving beyond the relative simplicity of an industrial era that everywhere emphasized uniformity, standardization and one-size-fits-all massification. And the United States of America is not alone in generating the new complexity. Add the byzantine complexities imposed by the European Union in an attempt to “harmonize” everything from education to cheese. Only computers can keep track. #RandolphHarris 9 of 20

What we see, then, are changes in the deep fundamentals that are creating the revolutionary wealth system and a corresponding way of life, both based on unprecedented levels of economic and social complexity. Together, the convergence of acceleration, de-synchronization and reglobalization, along with a tsunami of new knowledge, is overwhelming our rust-belt institutions and driving us ever closer to implosion. Fortunately, there is a way out. Before looking further at the stability of the cooperation, it is interesting to see how cooperation got started in the first place. The first stage of the war, which began in August 1914, was highly mobile and very bloody. However, as the lines stabilized, nonaggression between the troops emerged spontaneously in many places along the front. The earliest instances may have been associated with meals which were served at the same time on both sides of no-man’s land. As early as November 1914, a noncommissioned officer whose unit had been in the trenches for some days, observed that “the quartermaster used to bring the rations up…each night after dark; they were laid out and parties used to come from the front line to fetch them. I supposed the enemy were occupied in the same way; so things were quiet at that hour for a couple of nights, and the ration parties became careless because of it, and laughed and talked their way back to their companies.” By Christmas there was extensive fraternization, a practice which the headquarters frowned upon. In the following months, direct truces were occasionally arranged by shouts or by signals. An eyewitness noted that: “In one section the hour of 8 to 9am was regarded as consecrated to “private business,” and certain places indicated by flag were regarded as out of bounds by the snipers on both sides.” #RandolphHarris 10 of 20

However, direct truces were easily suppressed. Orders were issued making clear that the soldiers “where in France to fight and not to fraternize with the enemy.” More to the point, several soldiers were court martialed and whole battalions were punished. Soon it became clear that verbal arrangements were suppressed by the high command and such arrangements became rare. Another way in which mutual restraint got started was during a spell of miserable weather. When the rains were bad enough, it was almost impossible to undertake major aggressive action. Often ad hoc weather truces emerged in which the troops simply did not shoot at each other. When the weather improved, the pattern of mutual restraint sometimes simply continued. So verbal agreements were effective in getting cooperation stared on many occasions early in the war, but direct fraternization was easily suppressed. More effective in the long run were various methods which allowed the two sides to coordinate their actions without having to resort to words. A key factor was the realization that is one side would exercise a particular kind of restraint, then the other might reciprocator. Similarities in basic needs and activities let the solider appreciate that the other side would probably not be following a strategy of unconditional defection. For example, in the summer of 1915, a soldier saw that the enemy would be likely to reciprocate cooperation based on the desire for fresh rations. “It would be child’s play to shell the road behind the enemy’s trenches, crowded as it must be with ration wagons and water carts, into a bloodstained wilderness…but on the whole there is silence. After all, if you prevent your enemy from drawing his rations, his remedy is simple: he will prevent you from drawing yours.” #RandolphHarris 11 of 20

Once started, strategies based on reciprocity could spread in a variety of ways. A restraint undertaken in certain hours could be extended to longer hours. A particular kind of restraint could lead to attempting other kinds of restraint. And most importantly of all, the progress achieved in one small sector of the front could be imitated by the units in neighboring sectors. Just as important as getting cooperation started were the conditions that allowed it to be sustainable. The strategies that could sustain mutual cooperation were the ones which were provocable. If necessary, during the periods of mutual restraint, the enemy soldiers took pains to show each other that they could indeed retaliate. For example, German snipers showed their prowess to the British by aiming at spots on the walls of cottages and firing until they had cut a hole. Likewise, if they wished to, the artillery would often demonstrate with a few accurately aimed shots that they could do more damage. These demonstrations of retaliatory capabilities helped police the system by showing that restraint was not due to weakness, and the defection would be self-defeating. When a defection actually occurred, the retaliation was often more than would be called for by TIT FOR TAT. Two-for-one or three-for-one was a common response to an act that went beyond what was considered acceptable. “We go out at night in front of the trenches…The German working parties are also out, so it is not considered etiquette to fire. The really nasty things are rifle grenades…They can kill as many as eight or not if they do fall into a trench…But we never use ours unless the Germans get particularly noisy, as on their system of retaliation three for every one of ours come back.” #RandolphHarris 12 of 20

There was probably an inherent damping process that usually prevented these retaliations from leading to an uncontrolled echo of mutual recriminations. The side that instigated the action might not the escalated response and not try to redouble or retriple it. One the escalation was not driven further, it would probably tend to die out. Since not every bullet, grenade, or shell fired in earnest would hit its target, there would be an inherent tendency toward escalation. Therefore, it is clear that business negations are a lot like war strategy. When it comes to transportation outward, there are other things we need to consider. For example, Jim Salin’s afternoon from Dulles International is on the ground, late for departure. Impatiently, Jim checks the time: any later, and he will miss his connecting flight. At last, the glassy-surfaced craft rolls down the runway. With gliderlike winds, it lifts its portly body and climbs steeply toward the east. A few pages into his novel, Jim is interrupted by a second recitation of safety instructions and the captain’s announcement that they will try to make up for lost time. Jim settles back in his seat as the main engines kick in, the wings retract, the acceleration builds, and the sky darkens to black. Like the highest-performance rockets of the 1980s, Jim’ liner produces an exhaust of pure water vapor. Spaceflight has become clean, safe, and routine. And more people go up than come down. The cost of spaceflight is mostly the cost of high-performance, reliable hardware. Molecular manufacturing will make aerospace structures from nearly flawless, superstrong materials at low cost. Add inexpensive fuel, and space will become more accessible than the other side of the ocean is today. #RandolphHarris 13 of 20

Galileo did not invent the telescope, although he did not always object to the attribution. A Dutch spectacle-maker named Johann Lippershey was probably the instrument’s true inventor; at any rate, he was the first to claim a license for its manufacture, in 1608. (It might also be worth remarking here that the famous experiment of dropping cannon balls from the Tower of Pisa was not only not done by Galileo but actually carried out by one of his adversaries, Giorgio Coressio, who was trying to confirm, not dispute, Aristotle’s opinion that larger bodies fall more quickly than smaller ones.) Nonetheless, to Galileo must go the entire credit for transforming the telescope from a toy into an instrument of science. And to Galileo must also go to the credit for transforming the telescope from a toy into an instrument of science. And to Galileo must also go the credit of making astronomy a source of pain and confusion to prevailing theology. His discover of the four moons of Jupiter and the simplicity and accessibility of his writing style were key weapons in his arsenal. However, more important was the directness with which he disputed the scriptures. In his famous Letter to the Grand Duchess Christina, he used arguments first advanced by Kepler as to why the Bible could not be interpreted literally. However, he went further in saying that nothing physical that could be directly observed or which demonstrations could prove ought to be questioned merely because Biblical passages say otherwise. More clearly than Kepler had been able to do, Galileo disqualified the doctors of the church from offering opinions about nature. To allow them to do so, he charged, is pure folly. He wrote, “This would be as if an absolute despot, being neither a physician nor an architect, but knowing himself free to command, should undertake to administer medicines and erect buildings according to his whim—at grave peril of his poor patients’ lives, and the speedy collapse of his edifices.” #RandolphHarris 14 of 20

From this and other audiation arguments, the doctors of the church were sent reeling. It is therefore astonishing that all the church made persistent efforts to accommodate its beliefs to Galileo’s observations and claims. It was willing, for example, to accept as hypotheses that the Earth moves and that the sun stands still. This, on the grounds that it is the business of mathematicians to formulate interesting hypotheses. However, there could be no accommodation with Galileo’s claim that the movement of the Earth is a fact of nature. Such a belief was definitively held to be injurious to holy faith by contradicting Scripture. Thus, the trail of Galileo for heresy was inevitable even though long delayed. The trail took place in 1633, resulting in Galileo’s conviction. Among the punishments were that Galileo was to abjure Copernican opinion, serve time in a formal prison, and for three years repeat once a week seven penitential psalms. There is probably no truth to the belief that Galileo mumbled at the conclusion of his sentencing, “But the Earth moves” or some similar expression of defiance. He had, in fact, been asked for times at his trial if he believed in the Copernician view, and each time he said he did not. Everyone knew he believed otherwise, and that it was his advanced age, infirmities, and fear of torture that dictated his compliance. In any case, Galileo did not spend a single day in prison. He was confined at fist to the grand duke’s villa at Trinita del Monte, then to the palace of Archbishop Piccolomini in Siena, and final to his home in Florence, where he remained for the rest of his life. He died in 1642, the year Isaac Newton was born. #RandolphHarris 15 of 20

In a society like ours, in which people have become increasingly isolated from each other in their offices, private cars, single-family living units and television-watching, sharing personal information has become a rarity. The extended family is gone and neighborhood community gatherings are increasingly the exception to the rule. There is less and less interpersonal sharing of intimate problems, few windows into other people’s lives. Now our only windows are professional counselors, psychiatrists, and, least expensive and most available, television. It becomes the window for most people. That it looks into fictional lives is irrelevant. Although critics complain about the stereotyped characters and plots of TV dramas, many viewers look on them as representatives of the real World. Anyone questions that assertion should read the 250,000 letters, mostly containing requests for medical advice sent by views during the first five years of one doctor’s practice on television. Imagine a hermit they suggest, who lives in a cave linked to the outside World by a television set that functions only during prime time. One’s knowledge of the World would be built exclusively out of the images and facts one could glean from the fictional events, persons, objects and places that appear on television. His expectations and judgments about the ways of the World would follow the conventions of TV programs with their predictable plots and outcomes. His views of human nature would be shaped by the shallow psychology of TV characters. There are definite distortions of reality in three areas that we measured: Heavy users of television were more likely to overestimate the percentage of the World population that lives in America; they seriously overestimated the percentage of the population who have professional jobs; and they drastically overestimated the number of police in the United States of America and the amount of violence. #RandolphHarris 16 of 20

In all these cases, the overestimate matched a distortion that exists in television programming. The more television people watched, the more their view of the World matched television reality. Knowledge that the television programs were fictional—surely no one who watched them can consciously doubt that police dramas are fiction—does not prevent one from “believing” them anyway, or at least gaining important impressions which lead to beliefs. If you need further proof of this, there is always advertising. A recent study showed that a greater percentage of voters based their decisions concerning candidates and ballot propositions on information received from advertising than on information received in any other way. This may be partially due to the fact that, except for big electoral races which are widely reported in all news media, we are likely to receive a greater quantity of data from advertising than from the news. This is certainly true of most congressional races and ballot issues. Yet we all know that advertising cannot be considered always truthful. In fact, it is by nature one-sided. Advertising always reflects only the facts and opinions of the people who pay for it. Why lese would they pay for it? And yet, knowing that people use advertising information as though it can be relied upon. When it comes to product advertising, the situation is clearer still. When one is watching an advertisement, one knows for sure that the advertiser is trying to get you to do something: but the product. One also knows that the people in the ad are not “real,” that is, they are actors who are speaking lines, in situations that do not represent their actual lives. Everyone knows this. We all know that the motive of the sponsor and the actors and the writers of the ads is that they are all trying to implant a feeling in us that will eventually get us to but something. We know they are doing this, but we often act on the ad. #RandolphHarris 17 of 20

In Meat Joy (Paris, 1964) nearly naked men and women interacted, in a rather frenzied, Dionysian way, with one another and with hunks of raw meat and carcasses of fish and chickens. They smeared themselves with blood, imprinted their bodies on aper, tore chickens apart, threw chunks of raw meat and torn fowl about, slapped one another with them, kisses and rolled about “to exhaustion,” and so on. The sparagmatic dismemberment and the suggestion of the suspension of mating taboos both evoke Maenadism and the Dionysian cult. The wild freedom advocated by this ancient cult, as well as its suggestions of rebirth, seemed appropriate expression of the unchecked newness that faced the art World as its boundaries dissolved and opened on all sides into unexpected vistas, where traditional media, torn apart and digested, were reborn in unaccountable new forms. The Dionysian subversion of ego in the cause of general fertility has become another persistent theme of appropriation performance. Barbara Smith has performed what she calls a Tantric ritual, that included pleasures of the flesh, in a gallery setting as an artwork. In general, performance works involving appropriate of religious forms follow two groups: those that select from the neolithic sensibility of fertility and blood sacrifice, and those that select from the paleolithic sensibility of shamanic magic and ordeal; often the two strains mix. Both may be seen as expression of the desire, so widespread in the 60s and early 70s, to reconstitute within Modern civilization something like an ancient or primitive sensibility of oneness with nature. Though the erotic content of the works based on the themes of fertility has been received with some shock, it is the work based on the shamanic ordeal that the art audience has found most difficult and repellent. #RandolphHarris 18 of 20

Clearly that is part of the intention of the work, and in fact a part of its proper content. However, it is important to make clear that these artists have an earnest desire to communicate, rather than simply shock. Seen in an adequate context, their work is not aggression but expression. Nietzsche restored to something like the soul to our understanding of man by providing a supplement to the flat, dry screen of consciousness, which with pure intellect looks at the rest of humanity as something alien, a bundle of affects of matter, like any other object of physics, chemistry and biology. The unconscious replaces all the irrational things—above all divine madness and eros—which were part of the old soul and had lost significance in modernity. It provides a link between consciousness and nature as a whole, restoring therewith the unity of humanity. Nietzsche made psychology, as the most important study, possible again; and everything of interest in psychology during the last century—not only psychoanalysis but also Gestalt, phenomenology, and existentialism—took place within the confines of the spiritual continent he discovered. However, the difference between the self and the soul remains great because of the change in the status of reason. The reconstitution of man in Nietzsche required that sacrifice of reason, which Enlightenment, whatever its failings, kept the center. For all the charms of Nietzsche and all that he says to hearten a lover of the soul, he is further away from Plato in this crucial respect than was Descartes or Locke. Since the wicked man has negated his existence, he ends in nothing, his way is his judgement. However, with sinners it is different: their “not standing” does not refer to the decision of the supreme judgement, it is only a human community which is unable to offer them any stability if it is not to make its own stability questionable. #RandolphHarris 19 of 20

However, entry into this community is not closed to them. They need only to carry out that turning into God’s way, of which permits us to the divine, is not merely open to them but that they themselves may desire it in the depths of their hearts, whereas they do not feel themselves strong enough, or rather fancy they are not strong enough, to enter upon it. Is the way, then, closed to the wicked? It is not closed from God’s side—so we may continue the reflection of the divine way—but it is closed from the side of the wicked themselves. For in distinction from the sinners they do not wish to be able to turn. That is why their way peters out. Here, it is true, there arises for us modern interpreters of the Divine way to which neither this nor any other work of knowledge nor any human word knows the answer: how can an evil will exist, when God exists? The abyss which is opened by this question stretches, even more uncannily than the abyss of Job’s question, into the darkness of the divine mystery. Before this abyss the interpreter of the Psalms stands silent. Underlying principles of respect that were once commonplace in society have increasingly given way to unkind behavior. To help our children and youth set aside the many negative examples that bombard them, we must first understand respect, reasons we sometimes act disrespectfully, gospel principle that apply, and ways we can be better teachers and exemplars of respect. Respect is being polite or civil to those we meet or with whom we interact. This would include being respectful of a teacher. We hope grandchildren will treat grandparents respectfully during visits. We usually treat strangers with polite respect. We want children and others to treat us with respect—using good manners—but also to honor our standards, which we seek to exemplify through Christlike living. #RandolphHarris 20 of 20

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