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You Cannot Make it Unless You Meet a Prince

The reasonable man adapts himself to the World; the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the World to himself. This is same disregard for feasibility which pervades the drive for actualization. Many of these demands are of a kind which no human being could fulfill. They are plainly fantastic, although the person himself is not aware of it. He cannot help it, however, as soon as his expectations are exposed to the clear light of critical thinking. If anything, such an intellectual realization, however, usually does not usually change much. Let us say that a physician may have clearly realized that he cannot do intensive scientific work in addition to a nine-hour practice and an extensive social life; yet, after abortive attempts to cut down one or another activity, he keeps going at the same pace. His demands that limitations in time and energies should not exist for him are stronger than reason. Or take a more subtle illustration. At an analytic session, a patient was dejected. She had talked with a friend about the latter’s material problems, which were complicated. My patient knew the husband only from social situations. Yet, although she had been in analysis for several years and had enough understanding of the psychological intricacies involved in any relationship between two people to know better, she felt that she should have been able to tell her friend whether or not the marriage was tenable. #RandolphHarris 1 of 27

I told her that she expected something of herself which was impossible for anybody, and pointed out the multitude of questions to be clarified before one could even begin to have a more than dim impression of factors operating in the situation. It turned out then that she had been aware of most of the difficulties I had pointed out. However, she had still felt that she should have a kind of sixth sense penetrating all of them. Other demands on self may not be fantastic in themselves yet show a complete disregard for the conditions under which their analysis has little to do with intelligence. The reasoning power which these people have may, in fact, be used to obstruct progress. What counts are the emotional forces operating in the patients, their capacity to be straight and to assume responsibility for themselves. This expectation of easy success operates not only in reference to the length of the whole analysis, but equally so in regard to an individual insight gained. For instance, recognizing some of their neurotic claims seems to them the equivalent of having outgrown them altogether. That it requires patient work; that the claims will persist as long as the emotional necessities for having them are not changed—all of this they ignore. They believe that their intelligence should be a supreme moving power. Naturally, then, subsequent disappointment and discouragement are unavoidable. #RandolphHarris 2 of 27

In a similar way, a teacher may expect that, with her long experience in teaching, it should be easy for her to write a paper on a pedagogical subject. If the words do not flow from her pen, she feels utterly disgusted with herself. She ignored or discarded such relevant questions as: Has she something to say? Have her experiences crystallized to some useful formulations? And even if the answers are affirmative, a paper still means plain work in formulating and expressing thoughts. The inner dictates, exactly like political tyranny in a police state, operate with a supreme disregard for the person’s own psychic condition—for what he can feel or do as he is at present. One of the frequent shoulds, for instance, is that one should never feel hurt. As absolute (which is implied in the “never”) anyone would find this extremely hard to achieve. How many people have been, or are, so secure in themselves, so serene, as never to feel hurt? This could at best be an ideal toward which we might strive. To take such a project seriously must mean intense and patient work at our unconscious claims for defense, at our false pride—or, in short, at every factor in our personality that makes us vulnerable. However, the person who feels that he should never feel hurt does not have so concrete a program in mind. He simply issues an absolute order to himself, denying or overriding the fact of his existing vulnerability. #RandolphHarris 3 of 27

One patient revealed that she does not believe that she needs to experience a number of outside relationships to become happier about herself and things in general. However, after being with this particular person, she thought of nothing but sleeping with every man who appealed to her. She would walk down the street and look at everybody and wonder whether they are looking at her and what would they be like to sleep with. And somehow, just this one experience with a man, which was not terrific and did not make her terribly happy in regards to pleasures of the flesh, was enough to make her feel much more excited about being with people. It gave her a new feeling about life, which she never had with her husband because she was so dragged down and smudged. The pleasures of the flesh with this man made herself more like herself again, which contradicts what she initially said. This experience made her more aware of what she was as an individual as opposed to what her husband wanted her to be. She was living exactly according to the traditional image of the female, because her husband could not accept anything else. And one morning, she woke up and said, “I hate cleaning the house, and I want somebody to help me, and I’d like to sculpt in the middle of the night and paint in the middle of the night alone. And I want privacy and I want individuality and I want to be recognized for being a girl—not even so young any more!—with interests. I am human and an individual and also female, and I don’t want to be submerged in this housewife role.” #RandolphHarris 4 of 27

She deferred to her husband to the point where she almost forgot who she was or what she wanted or what she thought. However, it was her who decided that it was her role as a woman to please a man and therefore completely to submerge her own identity. This woman claimed that she was not going to hunt for relationships because she was more interested in quality than quantity. Although she wants to end up with a man and that she wants to be able to relate to a man, she admits does not know what she wants. It seems that she is mostly busy trying to remember all the things she wanted to feel and activate the things she wanted to do. She seems to be desperate for some kind of communication and relationships with men are just to serve a purpose and not to be permanent. This woman seems to be indulging herself in a Walter Mitty-type fantasy. This would be understandable under the circumstances since she has just begun to break out of her marriage and has used infidelity as a springboard. The danger lies in the possibility that this fantasy expresses a more fundamental aspect of her personality, an immaturity that is more Peter Pan than Walter Mitty—reflecting a wish not to grow up. When this is the case, a man or a woman uses extramarital affairs as a way of avoiding responsibility for the achievement of an enduring relationship. #RandolphHarris 5 of 27

For an affair, after all, can be an opportunity for growth, a chance to experience more than simply pleasure of the flesh—a chance to work at a relationship so that it will sustain intimate passions and even intensify them. The alternative is to go from one partner to another, experiencing little beyond a temporary relief of frustration with pleasures of the flesh. This is clearly not her intention—intellectually, at least. The danger lies in the ease with which good intentions dissolve in the face of easy opportunities to act otherwise. Marriage is, among other things, a challenge to two individuals to find their identities by meeting the responsibilities that arise in the natural course of events, but affairs have no such built-in challenges. It is all too easy to continue an affair only to the point where it requires an individual to grow up, to accept some responsibility for his or her own development and to invest attention and feeling and energy in developing a long-rage relationship rather than concentrating it all on short-term pampering of the individual self. One way to integrate your authoritative personality and your marginalized personality is to accept the paradox that both exist in you and they are equal, like a two-party system in politics or a battery with positive and negative poles. A democracy collapses without opposing, equally strong political parties. #RandolphHarris 6 of 27

A battery will not work without the positive and negative electrical charges, and a healthy human being cannot function at the fully human level without both strength and weakness, love and anger. You have to listen to both sides, both your weak marginalized self and your authoritative self. By accepting and listen to both sides of yourself, the antagonistic poles become complementary. When both sides of ourselves are accepted equally, the power of integration occurs. Another way to integrate your authoritative self and your marginalized self is to express your feelings as accurately as possible. For example, if your husband is flirting, you may tell yourself that it does not really bother you. However, what do you really feel? When he interrupts your conversation to tell some waitress how terrific she looks, it is irritating, right? Do you tell him? No. Because you do not want to ruin your marriage with jealousy. Because you love him. Do you feel loving at those times? Not really, right? You actually feel inadequate. Are you inadequate? If you are not inadequate, then what are you? You are made at him, correct? It really hurts being ignored by the man you love. Those closer a woman comes to accurately expressing her feelings, the more she is able to: integrate her authoritative personality with her marginalized, and resolve the dichotomy that is robing her of her self-esteem and falsifying her communications. However, not all women are in a position to do this because of the dynamics of their relationship. #RandolphHarris 7 of 27

Some women had to manipulate a man into marrying them, others are dependent on his money, or maybe a combination of both. So, they have had to be subservient in their relationships to keep a man. Other are dating abusive men. For woman in this position, asserting her authority could be disastrous and even deadly. As Maslow says, in healthier people, dichotomies are resolved, and polarities disappear. Learning to listen to both your authoritative and marginalized personalities—giving them equal time, so to speak, and learning to accurately express your feelings—telling the truth, enables you to integrate your warring factions and transcend your manipulations. Often the hypnogogic experiences are just out of reach of what can be remembered unless they are immediately recorded, which action tends to disrupt the state. When I was suffering from infirmary for so long and living alone, I learned to “stay with” what was going on until I felt that I had it clear and firm, so that it seemed that it could not possibly escape me. However, when I made a movement, it was gone—utterly. Even shifting a leg or moving an arm or thinking a thought would break up this authoritative personality. Surely, this is not completely alien to anyone, when all have known arriving at something in our heads and then some movement or other interruption broke it up and we lost it? #RandolphHarris 8 of 27

In much the same way, some women are frightened at causing a rift in their relationships. However, for me, there was something else that annoyed me even more, in terms of wishing to present proof of what can go on in me that is intelligent beyond my usual intelligence: when I did manage to move my body without losing the knowing and wrote some notes—clues to the much more, which I hoped would serve as an anchor so that I could recapture the rest—I lost the rest. The clues by themselves read like nonsense—as a list of errands in one’s private code does to someone else. However, my clues were not to familiar things which could easily be related to each other by myself: they were clues to ideas, to explanations, to knowings and understandings so great that when I looked at my clues I thought, “It is like trying to put a woolly mammoth through a funnel. What comes through does not look much like a woolly mammoth.” Is this difficulty any more “mystic” or “irrational” than what these woman are going through? The mind is multidimensional to an impossible degree, whereas any description is limited to one dimension. Language can describe only one sequence of events at a time; if several occur simultaneously, language has to jump to and fro among the parallel lines, creating difficulties, if not confusion, for a listener. A further, almost insurmountable, complication is caused by the fact that mental events not only take place simultaneously along parallel lines, but influence each other profoundly. #RandolphHarris 9 of 27

It seems to me that this is why reliance on verbal communication gets us into so much trouble. I can never say to you completely what is going on in me. When I use words, this sounds (and is) inadequate and unconvincing. If I then go on to express other parts of what is going on in me, it takes so long, and you become tired of listening. You want to know what is really going on in me, as if there were only one thing which could be real. And I, aware of what was going on in me, now notice that his has changed and throw in the towel. It is when my total organism receives from you, through non-verbal communication or some mixture of non-verbal and verbal communication, that I am closest to knowing what goes on in you. Little Pink Riding Hood was an orphan, and she used to sit in a clearing in the forest waiting for someone wo needed help to pass by. Sometimes she would wander down the paths in case anyone needed her in another part of the woods. She was very poor and could not offer very much, but whatever she had, she shared freely. She could hold thing when people needed an extra pair of hands, and her head was full of wise precepts which she had learned from her parents while they were still alive. She was also full of merry quips, and she liked to cheer up men who were scared of getting lost in the forest. In this way she made many friends. However, she was nearly always alone on weekends because then everybody went on picnics in the meadows and left her alone and a little scared herself to be in the forest. Sometimes they invited her to go along, but as she got older this happened less and less often. #RandolphHarris 10 of 27

She led a different life from Little Red Riding Hood, and in fact the one time they met, they did not get along well together. Little Red Riding Hoos was hurrying through the forest and passed by the clearing where Little Pink Riding Hood sat. She stopped to say Hello, and the two of them looked at each other for a minute, thinking they might become friends because they looked a little bit like each other except that one wore a pink cloak and the other a red one. “Where are you going?” asked Pink. “I’ve never seen you around here before.” “I’m taking my grandmother some sandwiches my mother made,” replied Red. “Oh, how nice,” said Pink. “I don’t have any mother.” “Furthermore,” said Red proudly, “when I get to my grandmother’s, I’m going to be eaten by a wolf—I think.” “Oh,” said Pink. “Well, a sandwich a day keeps the wolf away. And it’s a wise child that knows her own wolf when she meets him.” “I don’t think those merry quips are funny,” said Red. “So good-by.” “How stuck-up can you get?” asked Pink. However, Red had already departed. “She has no sense of humor,” thought Pink to herself, “but I think she needs help.” So Little Pink Riding Hood struck out into the forest to find a hunter who would protect Little Red Riding Hood from the wolf. Eventually she found one, an old friend of hers, and she told him that Little Red Riding Hood was in trouble. She followed him to the door of the hut where Red’s grandmother lived and saw everything that happened there: Little Red in bed with the wolf, the wolf trying to eat her, the hunter killing to wolf, and he and Little Red laughing and joking as they cut the wolf open and put stones in his belly. #RandolphHarris 11 of 27

However, Red did not even bother to thank Pink, which made Pink sad. And after it was all over, the hunter was better friends with Red than he had been with Pink, which made Pink even sadder. She was so sad that she began to eat peppy berries every day, and then she could not sleep, so she would eat sleepy berries at night. She was still a cute kid and still liked to help people, but sometimes she thought the best thing to do would be to take an overdose of sleepy berries. Clinical Analysis: Little Pink Riding Hood is an orphan, or has reason to feel like one. She is a cute kid, full of wise precepts and merry quips, but she leaves it to others to do the real thinking, organize things, and carry them through. She is conscientious and always ready to help people, and has many “friends” as a result, but somehow, she usually gets left out in the end. She then begins to drink and take stimulating drugs and sleeping pills, and often thinks of suicide. After she says Hello, she makes merry quips, but that is only to pass the time until she has a chance to ask: “Can I help you with anything?” Thus, she could have a “deep” relationship with a loser, but did not do so well with winners after the quips were over. Clinical Diagnosis: Chronic-depressive reaction. Little Pink Riding Hood is a loser’s script, since everything she gets, she loses. It is a Goal-structured Cannot script, with the standard slogan: “You cannot make it unless you meet a Prince.” It is based on a “Never” plan, “Never ask for anything for yourself.” After she says Hello, she proves she is a helpful, cute kid. #RandolphHarris 12 of 27

Theological philosophy is based on logic. Scientific philosophy is based on reason. I uphold rationalism against intellectualism, the thinking power in man against the classifying power, the mind which evaluates thoughts against the mind which merely collects and describes them. So long as these two faculties of human kind—reason and imagination—are surrendered to its animal side, so long will they prevent the real human being from being born. The victories of reason are the only enduring ones. When we abdicate reason for unquestioning belief, when we sign away out birthright of private judgment to another man, we part with a precious possession. Reason is active in the developed man. He cannot stop it from demanding a cause for an effect. I took this use of the term “Reason” from Aristotle, who made it higher than ordinary intellect, as well as creative, spiritual, eternal, and undying. The faculty of discrimination which we are to use in the pursuit of truth is not the intellect but the true Reason, which itself judges the intellect and rejects or confirms what it says. The conclusion to which reason comes can only have obligatory force upon the reason itself, not necessarily upon the whole integral being of man. We are finally to decide the problems of life by the integration of all our human nature and not merely by the judgment of a particular part of it. To make life a matter only of rational concepts about it is to reduce it, is to make a cold abstraction from it, and thus to fall into the fallacy of taking the part for the whole. #RandolphHarris 13 of 27

Metaphysical concepts may fully satisfy the demands of the totality of our being. They satisfy reason because they are the products of reason itself. However, man is more than a reasoning being. His integral structure demands the feeling and the fact as well as the concept of it, the feeling as well as the idea of it. So long as he knowns it only with a limited part of his being, only as empty of emotional content and divorced from physical experience, so long will it remain incompletely known, half-seized as it were. It is at this crucial point that the seek must realize the limitations of metaphysics and be ready to put aside as having fulfilled its particular purpose that which he has hitherto valued as a truth-path. It is impossible for the modern mind to encounter such experiences without seeking their explanation. And therefore, it is of little practical use for a master to tell his followers not to trouble their heads about the reason why such things happen or not to ask questions about the meanings and purpose of the World. Reasoning, in its highest sense, transcends mere logic and welcomes the alliance of meditation; out of their union comes wisdom, peace, balance, and so, blessing. The man whose chariot is driven by reason holding well the reins of his mind, reaches the end of his journey, the Supreme Pervading Spirit. Beyond the senses is the mind, and beyond mind is reason…beyond reason is the great Self. We may reject reason’s ideas about Divinity but in the end it is reason we have to rely upon to support the ideas which authority, tradition, emotion, or faith put forward. The agnostic, even the atheist, is a believer, too. Only he has more faith in the validity of reason than in the validity of intuition. Yet it is only the reason’s own vanity that asserts that its validity is a higher one. #RandolphHarris 14 of 27

Just as we ought not muse emotion, so we ought not misuse reason. We may use reason to justify an intuition, provided we use it faithfully and not to flatter our prejudices or prepossessions. We shall then be as ready to examine critically searchingly and impartially our own conclusions as those of an opponent. Reason properly used will critically examine an emotion which is leading one astray, whereas improperly used it will uncritically defend such an emotion. It will not hesitate to puncture the ego’s inflated compliancy in the first case whereas it will support his complacency in the second one. How often is reason judgment pushed aside by mere physical appeal which obscures what is below the surface. A person’s body concept includes everything the person believes about the structure, capabilities, and limits of his or her body. As with any other concept—one’s concept of other people, of animals—the body concept may be accurate or inaccurate, complete or incomplete. An accurate body concept is important for achieving healthy personality. Accuracy of the body concept is achieved by all of the means employed to arrive at reality-tested knowledge in general: through observation, through continual verification of conclusions, and through contact with reliable authorities and sources of knowledge. However, many persons have been taught erroneous belief about diet, healthy, requirements, and the like. #RandolphHarris 15 of 27

Further, a person may become so alienated from the body (as part of the more general process of self-alienation) that the person loses the capacity to “listen” to the body, the capacity for somatic perception. Thus, some people may fail to recognize that inadequate diet, lack of exercise, insufficient rest, and excessive self-indulgence are gradually weakening their bodies. To the extent that a person has knowledge of the effects of various things on health, then to that extent the person’s body welfare is his or her own responsibility. In societies where medical knowledge is not available, people may have erroneous beliefs about the causes of health and of illness. Consequently, one may observe that entire sector of a population suffers from some chronic ailment that they all accept as “natural,” as part of the scheme of living, for instance, rickets or Tuberculosis. It is only from the standpoint of the contemporary scientific concept of the body that it becomes possible to make judgements about how healthy (or sick) and entire society might be. Some overprotected people grown up ignorant of the process of reproduction; a nineteen-year-old student of mine believed that the menstruation only occurred in virgins; once a woman engaged in pleasures of the flesh, she stopped menstruating. She could not discuss biological questions with her mother, and she was too embarrassed to talk about pleasures of the flesh with her better-informed girlfriends. Aging person with false pride may misjudge their strength and endanger their health through overexercise. However, just as persons may overestimate their bodies’ capacity, so may they underestimate it. We are all tougher than we have been led to believe. #RandolphHarris 16 of 27

It is extremely important to engage with and train community-based partners to improve the outcomes of at-risk populations. The Sacramento Fire Department seeks to guide practitioners, researchers, policy makers, funding organizations, and other stakeholders in understanding and using the available evidence to inform their decision making. It also seeks to demonstrate methodologies and other interested researchers to evaluate complex interventions. With the Sacramento Fire Department, they speak of resources in terms of the three M’s—men, money, and materials. To these three, they must add time. However, there is a distinct difference between time and the three other resources. If they do not use their own money or materials today, they are available tomorrow. To a lesser degree, this is also true of men. It is not at all true of time, for time is a highly perishable commodity. An hour lost today is lost forever! To success in the Sacramento Fire Department, you must competently manage your resources—people, materials, and information. However, perhaps the most precious resource you must manage is time. You cannot replace it once it is gone. Time management can also be called, “personal management,” since you are the only thing you can control. The time-management sills you develop as a fire fighter and a student will set a pattern for you as a future captain. That is why you must cultivate a process for effectively managing time today. #RandolphHarris 17 of 27

In the Sacramento Fire Department, you encounter significant barriers to effective time management. However, you can overcome those barriers by setting goals and using systematic techniques. Time management is a system for getting things done as efficiently and productively as possible. You assume leadership responsibilities in the Sacramento Fire Department, your time will become even more valuable and its management more complex. You will need to manage not just your own time, but also the time of those you lead. When you put an efficient time-management system into action, you become a more effective leader because your team members perceive the value you place on both your time and theirs. The respect you show for their time will support everyone’s efforts to become more efficient as the unit works toward meeting tsk deadlines and completing the mission schedule. However, it all starts in college and training, where your studies require significant time-management skills. Your success at cultivating good time-management skills depends on your ability to set aside enough time for each of your classes, sports, and other activities. Doing this efficiently requires that Sacramento firefighters recognize time wasters (black holes). Set goals that reduce patterns of wasted time, and implement a system of the POWER model. The POWER model, discussed later, moved firefighters toward their personal, professional, and career goals. #RandolphHarris 18 of 27

How does the value you place on time management translate into your team members wasting less time? Is there a trickle-down effect? Pick a goal you have set for yourself: Make enough money to buy a car; graduate with honours; land a summer internship with the Sacramento Fire Department; improve your English language kills. Now turn it into a SMART goal. What did you learn about yourself and your goal? In your schedule, “black holes” are spaces of time that eat into your productivity and prevent you from reaching your goals and the goals of others you work with. Black holes devour productive time and consume your efficiency. You will learn that a lot of your associates, peers, and friends are black holes. The ability to identify black holes is the first and most important aspect of good time management. To do this, you should conduct an informal inventory of how you use your time. Consider a typical week and, within that week, a typical day. Most people are surprised at how much of their time is unfocused and unstructured—putting things off—and distracters—things that take you away from your planned work or activities. One way to fight procrastination is to realize that it will only make things worse. Putting off an easy thing makes it hard, and putting off a hard one makes it impossible. Distracters are often subtle. They might be talking on the phone with friends or relatives, losing track of time while Instant Messaging (IM) or playing video games, or helping other people on their projects. Or you may face an unexpected change in your work schedule. #RandolphHarris 19 of 27

Learning to deal with distracters—saying no when necessary; turning off your cell phone, the IM, or the video game; negotiating your schedule with your supervisor; even finding a different spot to work or study away from distractions—builds the discipline that helps you stay on course. Trying to overcome these two sources of black holes in your life goes a long way toward improving your use of available time. Additionally, the better you get at completing work on schedule, the better you will get at scheduling time for recreation, hobbies, social activities, and other things you enjoy. Goal setting is a critical part of managing your time. If you do not know where you are going, how can you possibly calculate how long it will take you to get there? If you want one of these new smart homes, you have to start by making yourself smart. The SMART model: Specific: make the goal concrete and clear. Measurable: Decide how you will measure success in reaching the goal. Achievable: Keep goals reasonable—milestones are helpful. Realistic: Consider other factors that may affect the goal. Time-bound: make yourself accountable for a specific date. The POWER Model. Prepare: Set SMART goals. Organize: Keep a calendar to know where you are, where you have been, and what is ahead. Work: Work on establishing boundaries for your time—prioritize activities, and avoid procrastinating, learn when to say no, and keep track of how long important tasks take. Evaluate: Review how you are spending your time. Rethink: Explore better and better ways of managing your time—identify what you need to change, and enter the God mode. #RandolphHarris 20 of 27

The SMART model for goal setting is a useful starting point for filling up black holes with useful activities—activities that get you where you want to go on your mission, in your career, and in your life. One you have established your goals, you need to apply an effective time-management system to reach them. Practice techniques of good time management, such as completing tasks before moving to the next item or limiting distractions when doing exercise or homework. Some useful tools include c calendar, a weekly schedule, and a To-Do list. You can find sophisticated time-management assistants at an office-supply store or perhaps a book store. Your personal computer may also have useful time-management software. In applying any time-management strategy, it is a good idea to keep in mind that you must be flexible. Since on one can foresee the future, you need to be willing to modify your plans to accommodate events and even a few surprises. Using time more efficiently than the enemy is the first requirement of victory. Successful time management is a never-ending process. It is time to take control of your time using the SMART technique and POWER model you have learned. Start today! Common sense assists the triumph of reason over sentimentality. The faculty of reason also has two phases; the lower is practical and reaches perfection in the scientist; the higher is abstract and reaches perfection in the metaphysician. #RandolphHarris 21 of 27

If we bury our reason alive, so much the worse for us. Its wraith will rise up one day and sneer in revenge at our silly errors and self-made troubles. The utmost use of the reasoning faculties cannot always provide for every factor in a situation. There are some only which intuition can grasp—the Universal laws, for instance. This explains the miscalculations of men who possess the most highly developed rationality but who lack a counterbalancing development of intuition. “I wasn’t a particular religious person before my injury, and I’m not a fanatic now, but I do attend church a lot more regularly and say prayers more. The only way I can figure it out, the gift of life dame through Jesus. I went back and looked at the accident scene, and there is no way I should have lived. I should be dead right now. Today, I’m on administrative detail, I’m doing a job I really don’t want to do, in fire prevention. I give 100 percent while I’m working, but it’s not where my heart is at. Riding around a street, going to inspect a building, I’ll here an alarm come in, and I’m like the old fire horse that’s pulling a milk wagon. I wander over and want to go to the fireground. I’ll stand around and watch, and it’s like you want to get in there. My back is healed enough, and I feel I could do the job. The doctors say they think I can do it, but they’re afraid of the way we live in the fire department. It’s all uncontrolled. You’re on the ladder and you’re reaching for somebody—you’re on the roof and you’re falling—and you grab something. #RandolphHarris 22 of 27

“If it were the type of work where you’re lifting boxes all day, I mean you can stand there and lift, but fire department lifting it totally different. I mean, you could be on a stairway and the stairway could give out, and the next thing you know a ladder could come down on you. So right now they don’t want me going back into the fires. The chief of the fire department has worked with me, and he could have told me to get the hell out, but he said we’ll wait and see. If it comes to the time that the doctors are not going to change their minds, then I’ll take a permanent job. The alternative is to take the pension and get out, do something different. I don’t think that I could. I could go out and train myself. I could do contracting work. If I needed to go to school, I’d go to school. No matter what I wanted to do, I could do it, I think. I have no doubt in myself. But at my age—I’m getting up to thirty-eight—they’re not hiring people out there. There are no jobs around, really. I could get an insurance job, you know, underwriting or adjustment, but I wouldn’t want it. I like feeling the way I do about myself when I put the uniform on. I get up and come to work, I look forward to coming to work. I look forward to doing my job with the people I work with. I mean, you meet any fireman, you’ve got something in common with him. I was on a night inspection at a restaurant, and a chief from Santa Clara was there. He introduced himself, and we must have talked for forty-five minutes. Things like that. If I was an insurance salesman and went into a restaurant, nobody would know. And if they did, they wouldn’t give a damn. #RandolphHarris 23 of 27

“It’s an interesting life. There are great feelings of satisfaction. One of the rescues I had was basement fire. I got a man out of there. We were the third engine in, and I was leading off. The radio said there were people trapped down there. I came up and said, ‘Did you find the people yet?’ the guys were like, ‘No. No.’ Nobody was going down to look. I was like, ‘Bubba, get your ass in there.’ I went down and made a search, and on the first search, there he was. I had him up and out and back to where he lived. If I hadn’t acted, he probably would have died. I had one fire where there was a picture in the newspaper of a lieutenant brining a kid down the ladder, but I had handed the kid out. It was the same thing. Guys were searching in the room, and I just made a turn and went to the other room, and bang, there the kid was in the corner. I went right at him, and there was the guy right on the ladder, and it was perfect. Those types of things. It’s the kind of job where even before you’re out of fire school, you know if you want to do this type of work or not. You get people who are afraid of heights, putting a mask on. If you make it through that, it’s a rewarding job. You touch more people’s lives than you think just by doing the job, even if it’s just going out and pumping a flooded basement, or going out on inspection and showing them about a cord on their car, or smoke detector programs. It touches you to know that you’re helping people that way, that it’s true purpose of your job, and that your job is to protect the citizens. It’s going to make you feel good. If you’re doing your job right, you’re going to feel good about it. #RandolphHarris 24 of 27

“I miss the excitement, the chance to do the things that make you feel good, making a rescue, cutting somebody out of a car, helping somebody out of a window. Even a vacant building fire, when you put the ashes out and you look back, it makes you feel good that you did it. You pull up, and it’s all fire, and you say, ‘Oh man.’ And you get in there, and it’s out, and you feel good about yourself. I guess it’s like a pitcher pitching a no-hitter. I mean, it worked good, everybody feels good, and they’re all smiling. You’re out in twenty below at four in the morning, but, ‘Good job, good job.’ You get back, you sit around and have coffee and talk about it. That feeling is great. You go out and inspect a building, and you say, ‘The guy needs an extinguisher, big deal.’ Some guys on inspection don’t consider themselves part of the department, they don’t want to have the radio scanner on and hear that noise. It’s the way you feel about doing the job. I’ve always given 100 percent, and I feel good no matter what, if it’s a trash fire, a pot of food, whatever. I never shirked my duties, I was always in there, and nobody can say, ‘He’s a bum.’ I’m always with the people, with the men. You look back at old pumpers. When I came in, we were still using 1945 Macks. In ten more years, they’ll look at an old Mack picture and say, ‘My God, these guys used to stand on the back steps.’ Riding the truck company, that was the biggest thing, just riding on the side, and when they turned you just turned your head that way. #RandolphHarris 25 of 27

“I remember it pulling out, and if you didn’t run down the street and jump on it, then that was it. You’d get up there and ride the truck to the fire. It’s changed now. It changed for the better because of safety. You look at what people did, they worked twenty-three hours and had one off; they went home and ate, and came back and put in another twenty-three hours. The only reason those guys did it was because they felt the same way I do. Why else would a person do the job for the money you make? It’s because you like it, and because of the tradition. You look around and see all the firemen dying of cancer. But there is only so much you can do to make the job safe and still do the job. Hopefully, it never gets to the point where you’ll be standing on the sidewalk and somebody’s house is on fire, and you say, ‘I’m sorry, ma’am, we have to let it burn down.’ It’s taken ten years off my life. A guy who came through school with me died of cancer. This guy was thirty-seven years old. I’m an old guy now, still in my thirties. When I came in the department, there were guys in their forties and fifties, and it was like, ‘Is that old man still in here? When is the old bastard leaving?’ I guess I’m the old guy in the department now, even though I’m still young. If I were a banker, I would hope to live to be seventy or eighty, but if a fireman makes it to fifty, he takes his pension, and a month later he’s dying of some weird disease.” Those sceptics who reject the possibility of attaining truth are already stating something as truth and thereby refuting their own theory. #RandolphHarris 26 of 27

If you are in an intersection when you see an emergency vehicle, continue through the intersection. Drive to the right as soon as it is safe and stop. Obey any direction, order, or signal given by a law enforcement officer, or a firefighter. Even if they conflict with existing signs, signals, or laws, follow their orders. When their siren or flashing lights are on, it is against the law to follow within 300 feet of any fire engine, law enforcement vehicle, ambulance, or other emergency vehicle. If you drive to the scene of a fire, collision, or other disaster, you can be arrested. When you do this, you are getting in the way of firefighters, ambulance crews, or other rescue and emergency personnel. The concept of professional courage does not always mean being as tough as nails, either. It also suggests a willingness to listen to other peoples’ problems, to go to bat for them in a tough situation and it means knowing just how far they can go. It also means being willing to tell the boss when he or she is wrong. As a reminder, parents, pleasure teach your children love America and be patriotic citizens and to buy goods and services made in America. It is also important to respect law and order and treat your elders with respect. To help our firefighters, pleasure donate to the Sacramento Fire Department to ensure they have all the resources they require. I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic, for which it stands, one nation, under God, indivisible with liberty and justice for all. #RandolphHarris 27 of 27


Never has there been a building so talked about. You will find The Winchester Mystery House in what was once the countryside known as “Winchester Valley,” where it has left past guests feeling a little spooked passing through certain rooms. It is well known for its reputation of being the world’s most haunted location. Do you fear the dark? Does the idea of the supernatural scare you? Do you sometimes anticipate the worst that can happen to you? Do you shiver when you read about victims of violent crime and think “that could have been me?” Does life seem insane? When you walk through the twisting hallways of The Winchester Mansion, are you apprehensive about what might be around the next corner? While standing at the door-to-nowhere, have you ever worried that life may have no meaning? Are you anxious that the next day might be your last? Do your days sometimes seem irremediably gloomy? Are you afraid of dying? We have examined your case thoroughly and think you will find the antidote for your condition at The Winchester Mystery House. A daily dose of horror is just the tonic you need. If fortifies the spirit with bracing jolts of terror. It inoculates the soul against fears that hound us all. It quickens the reflexes against life’s inhospitable surprises and tempers the imagination with thoughts unthinkable. Here you will find madmen in a variety of shapes and sizes who will help make things seem more rational. Feeling a bit self-absorbed? There is nothing like a tale of Mrs. Winchester’s hauntings to give you the right perspective.

The Winchester Estate dates back to the late 19th century, and it has a history that is packed full of legends and stories of spirits. The guided post-sunset walk takes visitors through the history of the mansion, while also offering a chance to spot some of the more well-known Winchester ghosts. There are stories of a little girl playing in the hallways and tugging at bedcovers at night and a woman in white who crosses the courtyard and passes through the walls. Lightening in colours no one can name sear across the infinite and multihued sky in jagged shards the size of which no one can conceive. Alien winds scream their impossible being in warring cacophony of notes no one can ever believe at volumes none can bear. And when the winds pick up on the fourth floor of the mansion, they make an eerie whining noise. It sounds as if everything around you is screaming. Right before a quick scratching sound, then something flares. A small spot of light glides like a firefly toward you. Another flare, then a dull yellow flow. A thin man has been said to step into the light. “Found some others out there,” is all he says before disappearing before your very eyes, and then everything is absolute darkness. Outside, the winds are said to kick up; it screams across the night. Well, maybe it is the wind. We all know the story of The Winchester Mansion.

The carpenters, who worked day and night for 36 years to build the mansion, that was once nine stories high, containing as many as 600 rooms. They knew the area was dense in spiritual energy. The hallways often possessed a great river of shadows. As these men felt a moan rising from a core of solid fear, they were so afraid that they would stand frozen for the space of one deep, shuddering breath. It was believed even the objects they could see were enemies, because they were keeping secrets. They knew, but were not telling. The cold quiet of The Winchester Mansion was a familiar song. Often, Mrs. Winchester’s guests would crough down, huddling against the floor, until help arrived. The mansion is situated over the crossing of two Ley Lines. In these areas, the veneer between the physical and spirit realms is thinner and much more permeable. This permeability and natural energy allow entities to manifest much more readily than in a normal location. Any thought or action in these areas, whether positive or negative has a much stronger and more focused effect. In the case of The Winchester Mansion decades of compounded suffering, negativity and strong emotional experiences have left a marked effect on the atmosphere in and around the mansion.

Some tour guides have heard chanting coming from outside the mansion and have heard their names being called. Others have reported seeing a woman hovering in the mansion. Although her journals are sometimes vague, Mrs. Winchester experienced bizarre poltergeist activity during construction. She mentions to a friend the incredible amount of poltergeist activity that occurred during the time spent building the front of the mansion. One night, when darkness fell, the mansion was filled with eerie music like nothing Mrs. Winchester had ever heard before. Creatures from her maddest nightmares filled into the Grand Ball Room in some kind of funeral procession. She watched from the hallway, terrified of being seen yet unable to turn away. The very last thing she saw was her maid at the end of the procession, following the creatures off into the darkness.

Mr. Hasen, one of Mrs. Winchester’s foremen, had written about his tools getting moved to the far corners of the room when his back was turned. Mr. Hansen was staring at ta kaleidoscope World of shifting, flickering lights, a surfaceless void with an unimaginably distant vanishing point near which huge amorphous shapes twisted and withered in a constant fury of becoming. He had been a hint that the matter that made up the forms of this World which everyone accepted as solid and separate was in fact all one and that only probability kept everything as it was and kept our reality apart from a multiverse of others. Although they were paid three times the going rate, provided with medical care, subsidized groceries, and lived in Victorian cottages once on the estate, carpenters employed by Mrs. Winchester frequently suddenly left and did not come back, never giving a reason to their departure. On September 5, 1922, construction efforts were suddenly stopped when the ladders several carpenters were working from were pushed away from the wall, forcing them to jump several stories. Moments later, it was discovered that Mrs. Winchester had passed away in her sleep.

The mansion that has survived such a long history, is a marvel to see in person. Today, it stands four stories high, and has an estimated 160 rooms, of which 110 are open for tour. There has been some restoration over the years and ongoing maintenance. Come inside the mansion to see the priceless architecture and learn of its history. The guided tours are exquisitely led by a well prepared and enthusiastic team, who make sure that you and all guests are entertained by the great stories. Take advantage of this fascinating experience. After tour, there will be time enjoy the mansion’s splendor at your own pace. You might even discover secret passages.

Please come and enjoy a delicious meal in Sarah’s Café, stroll along the paths of the beautiful Victorian gardens, and wonder through the miles of hallways in the World’s most mysterious mansion. Even if you do not believe ghost stories, you might still get goosebumps passing through the most infamous basement. Enjoy panoramic views and discover quirky features such as secret staircases, doors that open to nowhere, stairs to the ceiling, hidden trapdoors, and other unusual features.

Please visit the online giftshop, and purchase a gift for friends and relatives as well as a special memento of The Winchester Mystery House. A variety of souvenirs and gifts are available to purchase. https://shopwinchestermysteryhouse.com/
Why Choose Harris?

Harris Plumbing, Heating, Air, & Electric has been in business for 30 years. How many businesses can say that? We take pride in everything we do – no matter how big or small the service call might be. We’re here to help your home be as safe and comfortable as possible for you and your family. We take that responsibility very seriously as a company. Harris will ensure you have the information you need to decide what to do next, whatever your home is facing. We’ll perform a diagnosis and detail what issues are present before starting any work. This gives you a personalized quote and service plan specific to your home’s needs – not some random quote based on the best guess. The only way we can do our best work is to make sure we handle the issues at hand. https://www.callharrisnow.com/about-us/


BMW continues to dominate the luxury car space. With its top ranking in Consumer Reports’ Auto Brand Report Card and consistent market share growth, BMW has demonstrated its ability to produce high-performing, reliable vehicles that meet consumer demands.

BMW stands out due to its focus on driving dynamics and engineering excellence. While other luxury brands prioritize comfort and opulence, BMW is known for creating cars that are fun to drive and offer a unique connection between the driver and the machine. https://bmw.niello.com/

How Could Such a Bad thing Happen to You?

Babies not only look cute, with their big eyes, chubby cheeks and button noses, their infectious laughs and captivating scent also make them sound and smell cute. Their soft skin and waxen round limbs make them feel cute. Together, these aesthetic qualities act as a crucial mechanism that enables babies to attract us through all our senses. Baides need constant attention to survive, and cuteness is one of the main ways they get it. With our first cries, steps, and words as babies, we were set on the road to manipulation, refining and personalizing our styles as we grew into adulthood. We learned a lot from experts along the way—our parents, brothers and sisters, playmates, and teachers. However, the most effective teacher of manipulation was our fear. It is fun to observe the machination of the person at the office who obsequiously and shamelessly tries to gain someone’s favour by being sycophantic and affecting a subservient attitude, being overly agreeable and flattering to make their way to the top of the corporate ladder, only to be passed over for the BIG PROMOTION by the young Master of Business Administration (MBA) graduate hired just six months earlier, whom the sycophantic had been training. Unless, of course, you happen to be that person! If you are that person, you have spent your career—your whole life—being helpful, ingratiating, pleasing, placating, noncombative, agreeable, and passive. You managed to avoid conflict at all costs—all because you were afraid. You were afraid people would not like you. If you said no, you were afraid someone might be angry with you. You had been so nice, how could such a bad thing happen to you! #RandolphHarris 1 of 24

What about that young MBA graduate you were training who got your promotion? It was quite satisfying when he did not last a year in the job you wanted (Of course, you would never say such a thing at the office). You could see through his feigned personality. You knew he only received the promotion because he had made the boss think that you were incompetent and that the rest of the staff was lazy and needed strong, unwavering discipline and control. The entire office had been reeling from his angry outbursts whenever anything went wrong. Even when nothing was wrong, he was nasty and accusing. Everyone avoided him like the plague. No wonder he finally got fired. He had spent his short career and whole life being angry, blaming everyone but himself for failings, real and imaginary. Like you, he was afraid. However, unlike you, he was afraid that if he was not careful, he might get too close to others, become dependent on them, and get rejected and hurt. He wanted to get them before they got him. However, they got him anyway. He was alone and angry and afraid. A neighbour of his, hearing he was unemployed and looking for a job, stopped by to offer his assistance. Actually, he had been trying to get a chance to ask him out, but had never been able to engage him in a conversation of any length. He was always brusque and in a hurry. Now he had his opportunity. As he knocked on his door, he sensed he was feeling defeated and weak. #RandolphHarris 2 of 24

“I heard you were fired from your job last week and thought you might need cheering up. How about dinner tonight? There’s this great French restaurant downtown. You’ve probably never been there—it’s expensive. Great place. I entertain my clients there quite often. It’s about time you found out how the other half lives. How about it? I’ll pick you up in my new Porsche. You probably know that I’m head of sales now for the whole western division. I’m pretty busy, keeping track of everything. Can’t trust those doltish salesmen; if I turn my back one minute, everything does to hell. But if I can fit you in tonight. Maybe I can give you some pointers on how to keep a job over a night cap at my place.” Slam! The he-man hero neighbour was afraid, too. He had spent his life playing strong and competent, afraid that someone might see how weak and unsure of himself he really felt. “How dare he slam the door in my face!” he thought. “He had his chance and blew it,” he muttered out loud, catching the ear of a middle-aged woman, standing helplessly by her car that had just run out of gas. “Young man, thank heaven you came by just now. My car just stopped. I don’t know what to do. I’m late for my doctor’s appointment, and the car won’t go.” “I’m in a hurry. Maybe your car needs service. When’s the last time you had your oil changed? Let me check under your hood. This looks odd. Must be this whirligig. Looks like the fan belt is loose. You probably burned up your engine. I could fix it, but I don’t have time now. Where do you live?” #RandolphHarris 3 of 24

“A block that way. But it’s such a long block, and I feel faint. Why do these things always happen to me? What can I do now? I don’t know where to get the car fixed.” “You might have to get a new car. I only buy new cars. In the meantime, you ought to call a tow truck and get this heap off the road.” “Can’t you call a tow truck for me? I don’t know how. Besides, I feel faint. I told you I was on my way to the doctor.” This woman is afraid, as well. She is afraid to take responsibility for herself. She wants everyone else to take care of her. She has spent most of her life avoiding responsibility and can only present a litany of complaints—of what is wrong in her life and why she can do nothing to help herself. Each of these people is a manipulator, but none of them is fully conscious of that fact. Their manipulative styles provide them with some measure of success: They are able to avoid what they fear, and they are often able to manipulate others to meet their needs, but their manipulative behaviours defeat their long-term personal goals and their relationships with others. The scenarios above are only slightly exaggerated. As psychologists, we meet people everyday who behave in one or more of these four styles. The first man described above expresses phony love and caring to avoid what he fears: conflict and confrontation. His manipulative formula is “If I’m nice to everyone, avoid fights and anger, everyone will like me. I’ll get what I want, and I won’t get hurt.” He can be described as a Nice Guy, and his behaviour pattern is “pleasing and placating.” #RandolphHarris 4 of 24

The young MBA graduate expresses phony anger because he is afraid of contact and intimacy. His manipulative formula is, “If I blame and attack others frequently, I can reject them before they reject me, and I won’t get hurt.” He is a Judge, and his predominant behaviour pattern is “blaming and attacking.” The man in the third scenario expresses phony strength because he is afraid to be vulnerable. His manipulative formula is “If I am stronger than everyone else, no one can threaten me, and I won’t get hurt.” He is a Dictator, and his main behaviour patten is “controlling and dictating.” And the last woman described above expresses phony weakness because she is afraid that too much will be expected of her. Her manipulative formula is “If I am weak, others will have to help me, and I won’t get hurt.” She is a Weakling, and her primary patten of behaviour is to, “avoid and withdraw.” The caricatures described above, such monikers as “dictator” and “weakling” and all their characteristics, have limitations in helping us to abandon manipulation. Indeed, they are devices useful to describe the intricacies of manipulation, the distinct patterns of manipulative relationships, and they help create awareness of the problem. However, part of the problem of manipulators is that they see themselves and others in just such reductive terms. To help manipulators abandon seeing themselves and others as “things,” we prefer to emphasize manipulative behaviour and action rather than to emphasize manipulative caricatures. If I say that I am a bully, I have no motivation to change—a bully is what I am. However, if I say that I am acting like a bully, I can still be me as I change my bullying behaviour. #RandolphHarris 5 of 24

When we consider the manipulative types, the Judge and the Bully are described as blaming and attacking, the Dictator and the Calculator are described as controlling and dictating, the Weakling and the Clinging Vine are described as avoiding and withdrawing, and the Nice Guy and the Protector are described as pleasing and placating. These terms describe aspects of behaviour, not what might be interpreted as the essence of the person. Manipulators, whether they are functioning the person with the most authority, power, or influence in a group or organization, commanding and imposing, or as less favoured, disadvantaged, complaint and submissive, are not purposely sabotaging their goals and relationships. They are coping, albeit in unsatisfactory and self-defeating ways. As we said before, four basic conditions of every human’s emotional experience are contained in two polarities: Love—Anger, Weakness—Strength. Love and anger are opposites, but are related to each other. Weakness and strength are also opposites, but relate to each other as well. These emotional elements of human experience are also the vehicles by which with authentic love and anger or phony love and anger, with authentic strength and weakness or with phony strength and weakness. When we express our emotions truly, we are authentic. When we express them manipulatively, we are phony. We can recognize others’ phoniness more readily than we can our own. One of the goals we are focusing on is helping you to identity the manipulations you use. The other goal, equally important, is to help you discover the Self that you truly are. Ironically, your true self is as difficult for you to see as is your manipulation. That authentic self you have been mistrusting, that core of your inner being, must be recognized and trusted to overcome your manipulation. #RandolphHarris 6 of 24

Some of your manipulation is a way of life that begun in early childhood and is ingrained so deeply that you can no longer distinguish the unreal mask you wear from your real face behind it. You have the chance to develop an awareness of yourself in the context of interpersonal relations, in learning about yourself and other simultaneously to maximize your potential as well as the potentials of other people in your life. Nonetheless, perhaps the most interesting basis for claims is that of “justice.” Because I believe in God, or because I have always worked, or because I have always been a good citizen—it is but a matter of justice that nothing adverse should happen to me and that things should go my way. Earthly benefits should follow from being good and pious. Evidence to the contrary (evidence that rewards do not necessarily follow virtue) is discarded. If this tendency is presented to a patient, he will usually point out that his feeling of justice also extends to others, that he is just as indignant if injustice is done to others. To some extent this is true, but it merely means that his own need to put his claims on the basis of justice is generalized into a “philosophy.” The emphasis on justice has a reverse side, moreover, which is to make other people responsible for any adversity which overtakes them. Whether a person applies this reverse aspect to himself depends upon the degree of his conscious rightness. If this is rigid, he will—at least consciously—experience every adversity of his as in injustice. However, he will tend more easily to apply the law of “retributive justice” to others: perhaps a person who becomes unemployed did not “really” want to work; perhaps in some way the Democrats are responsible for the persecutions. #RandolphHarris 7 of 24

In more personal matters such an individual feels entitled to receive value for value given. If it were not for two factors which escape his attention. His own positive values assume exaggerated proportions in his mind (good intentions, for instance, are counted among them) while he ignores the difficulties he has brought into a relationship. And in addition, the values put on the scale often are incongruous. An analysand, for instance, may put on his side of the scale his intention to be co-operative, his wish to get rid of disturbing symptoms, his coming and paying regularly. On the analyst’s side of the scale is his obligation to make the patient well. Unfortunately, the two sides of the scale do not balance. If he is willing and able to work himself and to change, only then can the patient get well. So, if the patient’s good intentions are not combined with effective efforts, nothing much will happen. Disturbances keep recurring and the patient, with increasing irritation, will feel cheated; he will present his bill in the form of reproaches or complaints and will feel entirely justified in an increasing distrust of the analyst. The over emphasis on justice may be, but is not necessarily, a camouflage for vindictiveness. When claims are raised primarily on the grounds of a “deal” with life, usually one’s own merits are stressed. The more vindictive claims are, the more the injury done is stressed. Here, too, the injury done must be exaggerated, the feeling for it cultivated, until it looms so large that the “victim” feels entitled to exact any sacrifice or to inflict any punishment. #RandolphHarris 8 of 24

Since claims are crucial for the maintenance of a neurosis, it is of course important to assert them. This applies only toward those directed toward people, because, needless to say, fate and life have a way of deriding any assertion directed toward them. By and large the ways in which the neurotic tries to make others accede to his claims are intimately connected with the basis on which they are put. He can try to impress others with his unique important; he can please, charm, promise; he can put others under obligations and try to cash in by appealing to their sense of fairness or guilt; he can, by emphasizing his suffering, appeal to pity and guilt-feelings; he can, by stressing love for others, appeal to their yearning for love or to their vanity; he can intimidate with irritability and sullenness. The vindictive person, who may ruin others with insatiable claims, tries through hard-hitting accusations to enforce their compliance. Considering all the energies invested in justifying the claims, and in asserting them, we cannot but expect intense reactions to their frustrations. There are undercurrents of fear, but the prevailing response is anger or even rage. This anger is of a peculiar kind. Since the claims are subjectively felt as fair and just, the frustrations are experienced as unfair and unjust. The ensuing anger has therefore the character of a righteous indignation. The person feels, in other words, not only angry but the right to be angry—a feeling which is vigorously defended in analysis. #RandolphHarris 9 of 24

If by living together, as so many couples now do, is to prove socially advantageous, it will do so because it enables men and women to go beyond the novelty of exploring freedom with pleasures of the flesh to the point where they are genuinely caught up in discovering how they feel about each other as individuals, not simply as male and female partners who need each other to engage in pleasures of the flesh. A thirty-six-year-old man named Ryan has been married for thirteen years—and up to five years ago, he was into drinking in a big way. Prior to marrying, he had slept with probably three or four woman—he really cannot remember—all the way from a swinger in Tokyo to a high-school sweetheart. He had his extramarital activity two or three years into the marriage. He and his wife were living in Greenhaven—it was very bohemian then, and he fancied himself some sort of gay blade. So, he decided, he was going to get laid somewhere. And he did. And he kept on doing this for probably eight years. It was very easy—just: “Hi, come on, let’s go. Fine!” Boom. He was twenty-three when he married, his wife was twenty. Marriage was something he just was not prepared to handle then. He was like a child, and it was fun to run away. Each time, he would give himself good reason, “She doesn’t like me, I’m unhappy, we’ll get divorced and all that nonsense.” However, after he stopped smoking marijuana, there was none of that. The reality of responsibility, of commitment, suddenly hit him at that time. When Ryan stopped smoking, he became away of a whole new kind of sober sexuality with his wife, so the extramarital activities sort of went down. #RandolphHarris 10 of 24

Being in bed with his wife and being sober was an incredible experience. However, he believes that they now have entered a stage where they are living apart in a sense, during the week, and he goes home on the weekends—that arrangement seems to be the best for them. Two weeks ago, his wife, for the first time, slept with someone else. She called him and said she was freaked out, and indicated that she really needed him. So he went up there and was really surprised that his attitude was one of wanting to confront her. Instead of throwing a fit, which he would have done in the not-so-distant past, he said, “This is wonderful” because she was upset by her own action. She felt that the experience was—“unclean.” She did not like the guy really; she did not intellectually have anything in common with him, but she was lonely after being married for thirteen years. She claimed not to be aware of Ryan’s activities involving pleasures of the flesh outside of their marriage, but he highly doubts that because he said he was always working, but his status in his career and his salary tells a different story. It is important to be aware that Ryan’s attitudes are more complex than they might seem. Certainly, the procedure of choice at the moment that his wife needed his reassurance was to provide comfort, as he did, particularly in view of his own history of multiple extramarital affairs. In addition, however, if only to protect his relationship with her from which he now obtains valued benefits, since he now finds his wife tremendously more attractive in every respect, he would want to be helpful and supportive. Finally, although he does not acknowledge it, he may be expressing guilt. He could hardly help wondering whether his absence at home was one of the key factors in pushing his wife into having the kind of distasteful extramarital incident that she since described to him, and so some responsibility clearly rests on his shoulders. #RandolphHarris 11 of 24

Whatever Ryan’s real feelings were about his wife’s single act of infidelity, his remark that he found it “wonderful” that she had finally taken this step is characteristic of men who want the scales balanced in some way so that they feel justified in continuing to have outside relationships with pleasures of the flesh. This kind of man, incidentally, is often likely to cajole his wife into taking part in swinging. Characteristically, he thinks of this as a way to do what he wants without feeling guilty—but he often becomes dismayed if he discovers that no matter how reluctant his wife may have been to engage in such activities, she may very well find it more rewarding than he himself does. At that point, he is only too eager to terminate the experiment. When I feel smashed or trapped or bound or pushed, it is helpful to me to ask myself, “What illusion is fouling me up now?” The illusion is what I think about something. The facts just are. I know this most clearly through reflecting on what happens in emergencies when “there is no time to think.” If I think about it, I am lost—either I am paralyzed and can do nothing else I move and do the wrong thing. However, if respond to what is the objective view—as seen by others, or by myself seeing me after the fact, or after the reality. That is all it means: I am seen as an object. Subjectively, there is no “I” and everything is just happening. This is experience to me. As soon as “I” returns there is thinking about—or when thinking about returns, there is “I”—and experiencing is lost. #RandolphHarris 12 of 24

It is sometimes worthwhile for me to think about, but when I am aware that it does shut out the experiencing which is life itself—gentle love, interest, and many happenings—then I become more discriminating. I ask myself if this thinking-about is before or after. If it is before, then it is fantasy—like my thinking about Doctors A and X. If it is after, then I ask myself if it serves a useful purpose. Usually, I discover that it serves only ego, assuring me of the cleverness of “I.” There is not a darned thing I can do with it except use it to impress others and myself. This becomes ridiculous. Is it life to go about impressing others and myself? It may come as a surprise to ego, but in this imagery ego is servant and the inner is the master. With ego= I, it seems to me necessary to be clear which I is me. Is “the inner” less myself? Or more? When I picked up servicemen in spite of warnings not to do so, I felt that “someone else” has put my foot on the brake to stop for them, However, that “someone else” was very much me—in opposition to the value that others were emphasizing, which I felt that I should be practical and accept. At that time, this was my “inner” because I had the “outer” too. However, when I let the inner act through me, then it became my outer too and I matched. No split. No separation. No conflict. I was whole. Ego-I/intellect stopped the car and then drove it on in this World, but the knowing of that World dictated when to stop, and when to drive on. Ego is just fine when it acts as my chauffeur. #RandolphHarris 13 of 24

It seems to me that his half-I/ego/intellect is my small mind, or the small part of my mind, behind my forehead—which I think of as my “intellect” because I can do things with it. Real-I simply is and does—acts through me. When this happens, I have no choice because there is only one thing (at this moment) that I want to do. No decisions. I feel then that I am living within a snowflake pattern, myself moving through the center, all things in place around me in a beautiful design. No collisions—within me or with the outside World. I feel like a smoothly spinning top which touches an obstacle lightly and glides away, without damage to either the top or the obstacle. It feels good to have some understanding of myself, of what goes on in me. I can get into an argument (conflict) within my intellect, but this is really between other people entirely. It has nothing to do with me. I can also get into an argument between my intellect (other people in me) and me. When I accept the me, then intellect falls back into its proper place, carrying out my wishes which are identical with those of the spirit in all of us. I think it is the proper function of my intellect to be practical, to enable me to get around and do things in the service of myself and all of us. The error comes in when my intellect makes the first decision, which it can only do “practically” in the service of itself and what it sees as its possession. The original meaning of “sin” is to “miss the mark” and it seems to me that this is the way in which I miss it. I have the feeling of hitting the mark when I move through the center of the snowflake pattern—the bull’s eye. #RandolphHarris 14 of 24

The prevailing concept of the ideal body is adopted by most people as their personal body-ideal. This is the source of many somatic concerns. The most common difficulty people have with their appearance in America is being above average weight. This is also a health problem, for overweight people are more susceptible to disease than thinner people. However, the cosmetic aspects of obesity are just as acutely worried about as the physical health aspects. America is one of the few countries in the World where being above average weight is a public health problem, where food is abundant, but a slender body is cultural value. Some people seem unable to maintain their caloric intake at a level that will enable them to lose weight, and other times it is a medical condition that causes people to gain weight rapidly and makes it hard to burn off. Medication can also cause weight again, as well as injury. When a person wants to stop some behaviour pattern but finds that will power is ineffective, it is evidence that unconscious motives of great strength lie behind the behaviour. Sometimes the overweight person is overeating for reasons other than hunger. Clinical studies of chronically overweight people have show that they may have unhealthy personalities. They may, for example, be unable to derive satisfaction from their work. They may be starved for love. Rather than live with no “highs,” they resort to a very primitive type of satisfaction—that provided by a rich meal. Some obese persons are not unlike chronic alcoholics in that they are addicted to a practice that harms them at the same time that it relieves anxiety and provides immediate gratification. Like alcoholics, some obese person might make daily renewed vows to “taper off,” but they never seem to achieve this end. #RandolphHarris 15 of 24

In some cities, groups of obese people—Weight Watchers—organize as do the members of Alcoholics Anonymous; they are all dedicated to the aim of reducing, and they lend each other moral support in adhering to reducing diets. Such groups are probably the most effective means for achieving and maintaining a weight loss. However, unless the conditions, medical or psychological, responsible for the excessive appetite are removed, persons will be obliged to remain dependent upon their group membership in order to preserve their weight loss once it has been achieved. This is not an unhealthy dependency. The intellect is only the totality of transient thoughts; it is not a separate and self-existent thinker. The telephone operator in a business who attempted to manage all the departments of that business independently of the chief executive would be a usurper. The intellect is the telephone operator of our psyche and undertakes more than it is really capable of when it undertakes to decry the Soul. The intellect’s desire for total explanations of the Universe is impossible to satisfy, save with self-deception. The intellect produces thoughts without weariness. It looks for change instead of looking inside itself for its originator. To start with the data and come to the conclusion, joining the two by a series of logical steps, is the way of ratiocinating intellect. However, we need to guard against inaccuracy of thought and speech as well as against narrowness of mind and feeling. Kant saw how the mind forms its ideas under definitely limited conditions, and how it cannot help but do so, and that these ideas are merely the best it can produce under those conditions, not at all the truest ones. #RandolphHarris 16 of 24

Good leaders strive to leave an organization better than they found it and expect other leaders throughout the Sacramento Fire Department to do the same. You can create a beneficial organizational climate, prepare yourself to do well in your own duties, and help others to perform well. As good leaders, members of the Sacramento Fire Department look ahead and prepare talented firefighters and EMTs to assume positions with greater leadership responsibility in their organizations and in future assignments. The firefighter or EMT who develops people and the organization with a long-term perspective possess the following three competencies: Creates a welcoming environment. Seeks self-improvement. Invests adequate time and effort to developing individual subordinates and building effective teams. “There are times, no doubt about it, that we are knocking our heads against the wall. We speak with politicians about the fire safety of our citizens, and sometimes we get nothing in return. We know that politicians know that sprinkler systems work, that two people or more have never, ever dined in a building that is equipped with an operational sprinkler system. Yet the politicians are in the pockets of the real estate and building construction moguls who know that sprinkler installation increases their costs and diminishes their profits, and so we have hardly any residential sprinkler laws in the country, which really would have helped with the fires in Southern California. It is shameful. #RandolphHarris 17 of 24

“But then we live in a crass, statistical World, where the eight thousand or so people who are killed in firs each year are perhaps less important than the drain on our economy that would be created by reduced building profits. Pass along the costs to the consumer? It will never happen in a competitive real estate market. Sprinklers must be mandated by law by enlightened politicians. Still, our heads beat against the bricks. There are so many serious problems to be solved in the country, and we firefighters are only a one-issues lobby. And our issue is very costly. The problem of drug abuse, AIDS, illiteracy, homelessness are profound domestic challenges and good argument can be made that these issues can take priority over the problem of fire safety. The great difference is, however, that we know the answer to the fire problem. Put sprinklers in all of our shelters and we will save eight thousand lives a year. Until that happens, America’s firefighters will continue to risk their future and their families’ futures by running into a burning building where the fire is growing out of control. And they will fight those fires uncomplainingly, knowing all the while that they have been compromised by politicians.” We make the mistake of looking for a philosophical system that will confirm our preconceived beliefs and views. How few are really and sincerely seeking to establish truth; how many seek rather to establish victory. They can point out the errors in other people’s conclusions, opinions, and beliefs, but are blind to the errors their own. “Against stupidity the gods themselves strive unvictorious.” –Schiller. #RandolphHarris 18 of 24

One thing we witness all the time during emergency situations is people ignoring the sirens of fire trucks and ambulances. Often times, people even try to outrun the emergency vehicles and this can create dangerous situations. Citizens, remember to give the right-of-way to any law enforcement vehicle, fire engine, ambulance, or other emergency vehicle using a siren and red lights. Failure to pull over may result in a ticket. Drive to the right edge of the road and stop until the emergency vehicles(s) have passed. When approaching a stationary emergency vehicle with flashing emergency signal lights (hazard lights), move over and slow down. If you are in an intersection when you see an emergency vehicle, continue through the intersection. Drive to the right as soon as it is safe and stop. Obey any direction, order, or signal given by a law enforcement officer, or a firefighter. Even if they conflict with existing signs, signals, or laws, follow their orders. When their siren or flashing lights are on, it is against the law to follow within 300 feet of any fire engine, law enforcement vehicle, ambulance, or other emergency vehicle. If you drive to the scene of a fire, collision, or other disaster, you can be arrested. When you do this, you are getting in the way of firefighters, ambulance crews, or other rescue and emergency personnel. Moral courage is the willingness to stand firm on values, principles, and convictions. It enables you to stand up for what you believe is right, regardless of the consequences. #RandolphHarris 19 of 24

The concept of professional courage does not always mean being as tough as nails, either. It also suggests a willingness to listen to other peoples’ problems, to go to bat for them in a tough situation and it means knowing just how far they can go. It also means being willing to tell the boss when he or she is wrong. As a reminder, parents, pleasure teach your children love America and be patriotic citizens and to buy goods and services made in America. It is also important to respect law and order and treat your elders with respect. Having the Southern American boarder open and not having American farmland protected, not producing beef, poultry, fish, fruit, produce and dairy in America, and without American goods and services being our number one manufactured and selling items, America has created a dangerous and significantly elevated risks to national security, national economic security, and national public health. Some people may believe that these claims are overstated, but by not routinely monitoring Common Vulnerabilities and Exposures (CEVs) or other security relevant alerts, such as end-of-life of machinery is how the Oroville Dam Crisis occurred in 2017. Other crises that have occurred due to neglect of critical infrastructure is the 2025 Palisades fires because Southern California ran out of water, when they are located next to an ocean and they could have simply created desalinating plants to help with the water shortage. The water is so plentiful that it is currently eroding land and causing homes to fall into the sea. #RandolphHarris 20 of 24

The American government should know all exploitable vulnerabilities and fix them prior to the situation becoming a crisis. Failure to take such mitigating actions is dangerous and significantly elevates risk to national security, national economic security, and national public health and safety. The American government must understand that significant time and resources must be invested in America. They must also encourage corporations to plan for both mitigating safety vulnerabilities in the short term and eliminating them in the long term. For instance, a company might begin by reaching out to the federal, state or local government and requesting tax incentives to provide security to dangerous communities, to help the government repair bridges and potholes. America needs an approach to eliminate safety vulnerabilities in American cities. There needs to be a road map by the end of 2025, outlining a prioritized approach to eliminate crisis situations in America. There is enough money to send aid to foreign nations, but the American government does not have enough money to care their infrastructure, provide adequate resources, nor end the affordable housing crisis. Nor is there enough money to fund other national critical functions (NCFs). These bad practices of putting America and Americans last is considered exceptionally risky, particularly to national security, national economic security, and national public health and safety. In 2024, Americans spent $100 billion on Japanese cars. #RandolphHarris 21 of 24

In an effort to help America pull through the massive national deficit, please buy American made cars. American made cars used to be the envy of the World and because American car brands are offering a wide range of options, from family SUVs to electric vehicles and luxury sedans, we are now seeing a resurging interest. American made cars are equal or superior to those made overseas. The Chevrolet Trax, for instance, is a well-designed, fuel efficient, and safe SUV. And as you know, there is no better car on Earth than 1950-1970s American Muscle Car. As an incentive to buy American made cars, President Trump plans to made interest on loans for American cars tax deductible. Americans surely make superior products, but we are buying things from other nations. American food imports have risen by 300 percent since 1999. American farmland declined by nearly 20 million acres between 2017 and 2022. As of 2022, there were 880.1 million acres of land dedicated to farming, compared to 900.1 million in 2017. The data shows there are now little more than 1.9 million farms in the country. Americans and American corporations spent $136 billion on food and beverages from other countries. It is a national security risk to lose American Farms and farmers. If there is a war, and most of our meat, produce, poultry, dairy, and fruit is coming from foreign counties, we stand the risk of starving. With war breaking out all over the World, in these uncertain times, it is very important to bring American farms back. Las Vegas is running out of buildable land and is expected to reach its maximum number of homes in 2032. So, home prices are expected to rise dramatically. #RandolphHarris 22 of 24

Additionally, State Farm did ask the California Department of Insurance if they could raise homeowner insurance rates by 22 percent, but this request was denied. However, in 2022, California Governor Gavin Newsom signed Senate Bill 1107, also known as the Protection California Drivers Act, into law which increases the minimum auto lability limits for bodily injury to $30,000 per person and $60,000 per accident. Senate Bill 1107 also increased the minimum liability limits for property damage to $15,000 per accident and the DMV deposit for uninsured drivers to $75,000. The bill went into effect on January 1, 2025. This means that drivers with existing policies with lower limits will renew at the new minimum limits on or after January 1, 2025, and insurance premiums could increase by as much as 54 percent. America is in a state of crisis right now because of mismanagement by democrats. If elected for an unprecedented third term, to make housing more affordable and to offset the cost of homeowner’s insurance and auto insurance, President Trump plans to abolish property taxes. Much like the land crisis in Las Vegas, we could also run out of land to farm and will not be able to grow or cultivate our own food. We can protect American farmland and support American farmers by buying American made beef, poultry, dairy, and produce. Also, country of origin labeling is very important so Americans can know where their food is coming from and have the ability to support American farmers and ranchers. As money flows, it influences further investment. Save the land that sustains us by protecting American farmland. Once the land is built on, we lose it forever. And in the future, there may be food wars. Also, to ensure that we have farmland and buildable land for future use, we need to start limiting the number of people allowed to immigrant to America. Perhaps with the immigrants we do allow into America, there needs to be a diversity program to make sure we have a population that equally represents all races of people. If Americans continue to spend money on American products, then more need to be made to keep up the inventory. When investors notice these goods are selling, it gives them the confidence to pour more money into that local business. It shows that people want these goods made in America and pressures investors to keep these goods and services in America. The jobs stay here, the business stays in American, wages naturally increase, and more money is invested to keep up with demand. This reduces the burden on the taxpayer. #RandolphHarris 23 of 24

When you support American businesses, that money stays in our economy and can help to reduce the national debt. The government creates debt by borrowing from businesses in the private sector or from foreign countries. It also increases the national debt by spending more than it gains in tax revenue in a fiscal year. When people shop locally, more tax money stays in the economy and goes to the government. This way, it keeps more money in our national economy and keeps more jobs located in American which also sends more taxes to the government, which can again help to reduce the national debt. When you buy foreign goods, these companies usually have lighter tax loads or exemptions, meaning less money for the nation debt, plus you are helping to strengthen these foreign nations by send more money overseas. Buying American made products is also better for the environment and helps to reduce the carbon footprint because these products do not have to travel nearly as far. Furthermore, American companies and manufacturers are held to much higher standards in regard to pollution. American companies have to be more careful about air, land, and water pollution and have proper ways to dispose of waste. Moreover, please remember to respect law and order and treat your elders with the utmost dignity and kindness possible. And take your education seriously so that you will be successful in life and make your family proud. It is inborn in the human minds to wish to know. If this begins with the endless surface questions of a child’s curiosity, if it continues into deeper questions of a scientist’s probing investigation, it cannot and does not stop there. For the higher part of the mind will eventually come into unfoldment, that union of abstract reflective thought with mystical intuition, which is true intelligence, which needs and sees a view of the whole of things. And so, the knowing faculty enters the realm of philosophy. As a reminder, parents, pleasure teach your children love America and be patriotic citizens and to buy goods and services made in America. It is also important to respect law and order and treat your elders with respect. I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic, for which it stands, one nation, under God, indivisible with liberty and justice for all. #RandolphHarris 24 of 24

The Winchester Mystery House

Experience an unforgettable journey back to the time of kings and queens with this entry ticket for The Winchester Mansion in Santa Clara, California which was the residence of Sarah L. Winchester. Take advantage of this fascinating experience. After tour, there will be time enjoy the mansion’s splendor at your own pace. You might even discover secret passages.

Please come and enjoy a delicious meal in Sarah’s Café, stroll along the paths of the beautiful Victorian gardens, and wonder through the miles of hallways in the World’s most mysterious mansion.

For further information about tours, including group tours, weddings, school events, birthday party packages, facility rentals, and special events please visit the website: https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/

Please visit the online giftshop, and purchase a gift for friends and relatives as well as a special memento of The Winchester Mystery House. A variety of souvenirs and gifts are available to purchase. https://shopwinchestermysteryhouse.com/

We wish to express our gratitude to our families and friends and to our many associates and clients, whose lives touched our lives and whose ideas helped us to grow. We would also like to thank our employees and care takers for putting the technical ideas of this estate into conversational style, and we are, of course, extremely thank to all of our patrons for helping to keep the legacy of the Winchester Family alive. The Winchester Mystery House is full of surprises. What was your favorite, “Oooh!” moment during your visit at the mansion? (And for those of you who still have to check it off your bucket list… we will hopefully see you soon.) https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/

You, Sir, Had a Mild Heart Attack Last Night!

Each of us has our own difficult journeys in the “wilderness.” Some journeys are so difficult that it might even seem unbearable at times. The man you are about to meet, not only were his conversations battles, life itself was a battle—a battle he almost lost before finding his core. His biggest disappointment in life was that his father had not been killed in the war. Charles was born in 1942, into a World turned upside down; a World of women who worked in factories while their men went to far-off countries to fight. Charles’ mother was a pale, weak woman who worked too hard and had not the strength to survive his birth. A judge put Charles into the care of his Aunt Selma, a wealthy spinster who had nothing else to do but pamper the baby, whom she considered a gift sent from Heaven to fill and delight her lonely days. The first three years of Charles’ life were as much a delight to him as they were to his aunt. His every demand was filled as quickly as the woman could get to it. He did as he pleased and Clare’s only responses were kisses, pats, hugs, and praise. However, then the way was over—and for Charles, the nightmare began. His father came home. His father had a skill which was rare among men in those days: he could type. So instead of shouldering a rifle, he sat at a typewriter in Maryland. At war’s end, he returned uninjured, but had to face two gigantic problems: unemployment and fatherhood. #RandolphHarris 1 of 19

The first problem he was able to solve simply by taking the lowest-paying job available. However, the second problem had no simple solutions. It never would. Charles’s nightmare because real when his father took him away from Aunt Clare and moved him into a cramped apartment in St. Louis. In their first few months together, Charles’ father was unemployed. Unsure of what he ought to allow the little boy to do, he decided the safest course was to let him do nothing which could lead to trouble. Thus, Charles heard, “Do not touch that!” and “Bad boy!” for the first time in his life. And to the extent three-year-old boys are able, Charles began to feel progressively irritated, annoyed and resentful of his father’s restrictiveness. His father eventually found a job as a clerk in a brewery and every morning left Charles in the care of an overwrought woman who had six children of her own. As the boy grew to young manhood, his resentment of his father grew to a full-blown hatred. They squabbled over everything and nothing Charles did was quite good enough for his father’s liking. In return, Charles found a little to admire in the stranger who called himself his father. The man worked hard, but was not able to rise above the position of senior bookkeeper. He had no zest for living, few friends, no accomplishments to be proud of. #RandolphHarris 2 of 19

As Charles matured, he also lost much of his zest for living. He too found difficulty making friends, mainly because he argued about nearly everything. However, he did have accomplishments to be proud of. He was extremely bright and had a natural ability with numbers. In college, he majored in accounting and graduated first in his class. He accepted an offer from a huge company in New York, with a starting salary higher than the salary his father had worked twenty years to attain. The job did not last. Despite his youth and inexperience, Charles refused to follow the orders for his supervisors. He always had a better way to do things. Even when he was show to be in error, he would argue his position rather than back down. The final straw came when his supervisor overheard him advising a department head to account for supplies in a manner different from the standard. He was told to resign, but he insisted he be fired, despite the damage this would do to his record. Then Charles began taking a series of jobs in different cities, each with companies of lesser and lesser prestige. The pattern he set in his first job repeated itself. At last, even the worst companies would not have him. More from necessity than choice, he decided to go into solo practice. So he got an office, advertised a little, and business trickled in. His clients, though miffed by his heavy-handedness, saw his ability. His business grew, but his constant bickering made them throw up their hands and seek another accountant. #RandolphHarris 3 of 19

With the constant turnover in clientele, Charles found that he had to work punishingly hard to make a living. He was at his desk from morning until late in the evening, doing all the work himself. The tiresome schedule appealed to him. He had no social life and his only hobby was psychology, in which he was getting a Master’s degree at night. Ultimately the strain of too much work, too little sleep, and junk food took its toll. As he sat at his desk one evening, he felt a small twinge of pain just above his stomach. Indigestion, he thought, probably the result of the cheeseburger he had eaten earlier. He glanced at his watch and noted it was nine-thirty. He tried to ease the pain by breathing deeply, but his breaths came only in painful gasps. He felts a sudden chill, despite the fact that he was sweating a great deal, his shirt having become soaked in a few seconds. Frightened, Charles decided to take an Alka-Seltzer, but when he tried to rise and push his chair back, he could not. His strength was gone. He tried again, got halfway up and the World went black. When he awoke, he was laying on the floor. He glanced at his watch again: almost ten o’clock. He had been out a half-hour. However, on getting up, he felt fine. Nevertheless, he closed the books and went home. #RandolphHarris 4 of 19

The next day, Charles went to a doctor, thinking that he might have the beginnings of an ulcer. Not so. “Your blood enzyme test bothers me,” the doctor said with an ominously wrinkled brow. “Just to be sure, I’m going to do an EKG.” “What the heck’s that?” “Electrocardiogram. Heart test.” When the test results came back, the doctor seemed pleased with himself. “Just as I suspected. You, sir, had a mild heart attack last night. It was one of the few moments in his life that Charles could think of nothing to say. “I know what you’re thinking,” the doctor went on. “You’re only thirty-five years old, too young to have a heart attack. But I’ll be you work too hard and don’t exercise. Probably haven’t eaten a decent meal outside a restaurant in a year. Am I right so far?” One thing Charles could not do was admit someone else was right, no matter what the circumstances. “Say no more,” the doctor said, chickling. Then he turned serious. “Here it is, straight: You’re going to the hospital now. After a few days of observation, you can home—if we don’t find anything more disturbing. When you get out, no more junk food. No more sixteen-hour days. No more coffee. Get a lot of sleep, try not to get upset. This bum ticker of yours is a fact. You’re stuck with it, so you might as well live with it. There’s nothing else you can do.” #RandolphHarris 5 of 19

Five days later, Charles left the hospital feeling a mixture of frustration and anger. The thought of taking orders from the medical man infuriated him. Yet he could not afford to do things his own way. Not with this. In this game, someone else held all the cards. That afternoon, he closed his office obediently at five, went home and fixed a salad, ate it slowly, and took a nap before going to class. For the past few weeks, the class had been discussing psychosomatic illnesses, a subject which interested Charles little. However, on this evening, he listened very, very closely. The professor was lecturing about the forms of psychosomatic illness: “The most obvious type is, of course, ulcers. People now recognize that stress, worry and overwork may give one an ulcer. However, psychologists are discovering that many other illnesses may have psychosomatic origins. People are unwilling to accept that such aliments as cancer, asthma, heart trouble and the like have their roots in psyche. One patient of mine, for example, Charles froze at the mention of the words “heart trouble.” Could his hear problem be “all in his head”? During the next few days, the thought came up repeatedly. Every time it did, it frightened him—not because he thought the condition serious, but because there was apparently nothing he could do about it. #RandolphHarris 6 of 19

All his life, Charles had felt able to control whatever came up. He had always been able to do something about everything. Yet in this case, there was nothing he could do. This bothered him most. The next week, Charles asked the professor a hypothetical question about a “friend” who had heart trouble and was wondering if it might be psychosomatic. The old psychologist saw through the deception and suggested Charles try therapy. He referred him to me. One of the deepest learnings in mu previous clinical work had been the tremendous pull exerted in the client by the satisfaction of learning one’s self. No matter how external the concern initially expressed by the client—the problem of his wife’s behaviour, or the choice of a vocational goal—once he had experienced the bitter-sweet satisfaction of self-exploration, this inevitably became the focus of therapy. I do not find this to be true with our schizophrenic clients. Even when we have established a relationship, even when the individual experiences some new facet of himself, and understands himself a bit more clearly, he does not necessarily continue along this line. For reasons I am not sure I understand, he does not find himself, except very occasionally, drawn to the exploring and experience of self. #RandolphHarris 7 of 19

Instead, he is more likely to continue to externalize his problems, to refuse to own his feelings. Is this due to the nature of the schizophrenic reaction to life? Is it primarily characteristic of the chronically hospitalized person? Is it due to the low socio-educational status of our group? Is it simply that very few of our clients have reached the level of inner development where self-exploration is satisfying? I cannot be sure. Counseling center clients, on the average, show a significantly greater depth of self-exploration than our schizophrenic clients. This was based on a new measure of intrapersonal exploration, developed out of our Process Scale and its derivatives. It was also found, in accordance with expectation, that the more successful cases showed an increase in degree of self-exploration over time, while the less successful cases—both neurotic and psychotic—showed actually less intrapersonal exploration later in therapy than they did early in therapy. However, the surprising finding was that the more successful schizophrenic cases showed the greatest increase in depth of self-exploration from early to late, greater even than the successful neurotic cases. This is both pleasing and surprising. It means that in those schizophrenics who do show marked improvement on objective tests, this improvement is preceded by the spontaneous and feelingful expression of personally relevant material, by an active, struggling, fearful exploration of self. #RandolphHarris 8 of 19

It appears in our sample that when a schizophrenic improves it is because he has entered into “therapy” as we have customarily understood it. Another simple observation. Our schizophrenics tend to be either massively silent, or to engage in continuous (and not very revealing) conversation. It has been found that half of our schizophrenics, in their second interviews, show either less than 1 percent silence mor more than 40 percent silence. This is sharply different from clinic clients. Our schizophrenic individuals tend to fend off a relationship either by an almost complete silence—often extending over many interviews—or by a flood of over-talk which is equally effective in preventing a real encounter. Parents everywhere are the same in regard to illusions. If the child believes they are magicians, it is partly because they believe it themselves. There is no actual or conceivable parent who has not somehow conveyed to his offspring: “If you do what I tell you, everything will come out all right.” To the child, this means: “If I do what they tell me, I will be protected by magic, and all my best dreams will come true.” He believes this so firmly that it is almost impossible to shake his faith. If he does not make it, it is not because the magic has gone, but because he has broken the rules. And if he defies or abandons the parental directives, it does not mean the he had lost his belief in his illusions. It may only mean that he cannot stand the requirements any longer, or does not think he will ever meet them. Hence the envy and derision which some people direct at those who follow the rules. #RandolphHarris 9 of 19

The inner Child still believes in Santa Claus, but the rebels are saying, “I can het if from him wholesale” (drugs or revolution), while the futilists cry: “Who needs his sour grapes? The grapes of death are sweeter.” However, as they get older, a few people are able to give up the illusion themselves, and they seem to do so without the envy or derision of those who have not. The Parental precept, at best, reads: “Do right and no harm can befall you!” a motto which has been the basis of ethical systems in every country throughout recorded history, starting with the oldest known written instructions by Ptahhotep, in ancient Egypt, five thousand years ago. At worst it reads: “If you kill certain people, the World will be a better place, and in that way, you will attain immortality, become omnipotent, and acquire irresistible power.” Oddly enough, from the Child’s point of view, both of these are slogans of love, for they are both based on the same Parental promise: “If you do as I tell you, I will love and protect you, and without me you are nothing.” This shows up clearly when the promise is given in writing. In the first case, it is the Lord who will love and protect you, as it is written in the Christian Bible and Book of Mormon, and in the second it is Mr. Hitler, as it is written in Mein Kampf and other productions. Mr. Hitler promised the thousand-year Reich, which is practical immortality, and his followers did indeed acquire omnipotence and irresistible power over the Poles, Gypsies, Jews, painters, musicians, writers, and politicians whom they imprisoned in their extermination camps. #RandolphHarris 10 of 19

While this was going on, however, reality took over in the Napoleonic form of infantry, artillery, and air support, and millions of Mr. Hitler’s followers became mortal, impotent, and resistible. It takes enormous power to shatter these primal illusions, and this occurs most commonly in wartime. When Tolstoy’s Count goes into battle, he cries in outage: “Why are they firing at me? Everybody likes me (=I am irresistible).” The most horrifying example of smashing this almost universal belief by force is shown in the notorious picture of a little boy about nine years old standing in the middle of a street in Poland, alone and friendless despite the onlookers who line the sidewalk, while an armed Death’s Head Trooper stand over him. The expression on his face says very plainly: “But mother told me fi I was a good boy, everything would be all right.” The most brutal psychological blow that any human being can sustain is proof that his good mother deceived him, and that is the devastating torture which the German soldier is inflicting on the little boy he has concerned. When everything is permitted and the law passes away, the history of contemporary nihilism really begins. The romantic rebellion did not go so far. It limited itself to saying, in short, that everything was not permitted, but that, through insolence, it allowed itself to do what was forbidden. #RandolphHarris 11 of 19

With the Karamazovs, on the contrary, the logic of indignation turned rebellion against itself and confronted it with a desperate contradiction. The essential difference is that the romantics allowed themselves moments of complacence, while Ivan compelled himself to do evil so as to be coherent. He would not allow himself to be good. Nihilism is not only despair and negation but, above all, the desire to negate. The same man who so violently took the part of innocence, who trembled at the suffering of a child, who wanted to see “with his own eyes” the lamb lie down with the lion, the victim embrace his murderer, from the moment that he rejects divine coherence and tries to discover his own rule of life, recognized the legitimacy of murder. Ivan rebels against a murderous God; but from the moment that he begins to rationalize his rebellion, he deduced the law of murder. If all is permitted, he can kill his father or at least allow him to be killed. Long reflection on the condition of mankind as people sentenced to death only leads to the justification of crime. Ivan simultaneously hates the death penalty (describing an execution, he says furiously: “His head fell, in the name of divine grace”) and condones crime, in principle. Every indulgence is allowed the murderer, none is allowed the executioner. This contradiction, which Sade swallowed with ease, chokes Ivan Karamazov. #RandolphHarris 12 of 19

He pretends to reason, in fact, as though immortality did not exist, while he only goes so far as to say that he would refuse it even if it did exit. In order to protest against evil and death, he deliberately chooses to say that virtue exists no more than does immortality and to allow his father to be killed. He consciously accepts his dilemma; to be virtuous and illogical, or logical and criminal. His prototype, the devil, is right when he whispers: “You are going to commit a virtuous act and yet you do not believe in virtue; that is what angers and torments you.” The question that Ivan finally poses, the question that constitutes the real progress achieved by Dostoievsky in the history of rebellion, is the only one in which we are interested here: can one live and stand one’s ground in a state of rebellion? Ivan allows us to guess his answer: one can live in a state of rebellion only by pursuing it to the bitter end. What is the bitter end of metaphysical rebellion? Metaphysical revolution. The master of the World, after his legitimacy has been contested, must be overthrown. Man must occupy his place. “As God and immortality do not exist, the new man is permitted to become God.” However, what does becoming God mean? It means, in fact, reorganizing that everything is permitted and refusing to reorganize any other law but one’s own. #RandolphHarris 13 of 19

Without it being necessary to develop the intervening arguments, we can see that to become God is to accept crime (a favourite idea of Dostoievsky’s intellectuals). Ivan’s personal problem is, then, to know if he will be faithful to his logic and if, on the grounds of an indignant protest against innocent suffering, he will accept the murder of his father with the indifference of man-god. We know his solution: Ivan allows his father to be killed. Too proud to be satisfied with appearance, too sensitive to perform the deed himself, he is content to allow it to be done. However, he goes mad. The man who could not understand how one could love one’s neighbour cannot understand either how one can kill him. Studying counterintelligence is one way to understand how intelligence can be lowered. Counter-intelligence incessantly seeks old fact about other hives. Counter-intelligence continuously search for maps, blueprints, plans about intra-hive activity—in spite of the fact that nothing of genetic importance occurs within hives. Counter-intelligence feverishly construct apparatuses, devices, networks to limit our intelligence. Counter-intelligence bureaucracies, which includes the CIA, Senate investigating committees, and the old Soviet KGB lower intelligence and makes us more stupid with time tested techniques. #RandolphHarris 14 of 19

Anyone who keeps secrets from you is your Essence Enemy—acting to lower your most precious asset—your intelligence. If intelligence is the ultimate good then secrecy is the ultimate crime. Censorship is the imposition of secrets. Counter-intelligence makes us stupid. Disinformation—false facts obviously increase stupidity. When Richard Helms lied under oath about CIA involvement in Chile, he was acting to keep the Senate and the American people stupid. When Dick Gregory and Mark Lane invented Kennedy conspiracy facts, they are lowering the National intelligence index. Secrecy is the most obvious and blatant technique for inhibiting intelligence and always designed to increase stupidity. Even simple human ethics, let alone divinely given commandments, tell us to treat others as we wish them to treat ourselves. Whoever looks for the negative aspects of others should also remember that there are usually some beneficial ones also and that in fairness he ought to recognize them too. If anyone or anything, a man or a book, can contribute to free us from the resentments towards others or the bitterness towards life which poison feelings, thoughts, and health, he has rendered us a great service or the book has proved its worth. His virtue is not cold and selfish and self-admiring, although it may seem so to those who have insufficient knowledge of these matters. #RandolphHarris 15 of 19

Conformity has its uses, its merits, its place and time. Given these, it is quite acceptable. Ill-mannered people mistake invective for argument. The insatiable curiosity whose satisfaction fills so many columns of personal gossip in newspapers, is reflected in those who intrusively ask private questions where they have no right and no encouragement to do so. It is a breach of good manners, a blow at personal rights. It is a lack of respect for human dignity and independence. Being different from the crowd may mean being lonely but it also means being inspired, protected, blessed. Jesus Christ was not holier in essence than he is, only that man had manifested all this holiness, whereas he has hardly begun to do so. The task is to reflect the attributes of divinity in the conduct of humanity, involving the bringing-in of his metaphysics and his mysticism to actuate his conduct. Emotional expression is an aspect of communication. If we share a common upbringing and cultural heritage, we will not have difficult in understanding the subtleties and nuances of emotion that are conveyed by the flare of a nostril, the narrowing of eyelids, or the ripple of muscle along the jawline as a person suppresses rage. When we enter another culture, however, such as happens when an American from New York visits a Southern state or another English-speaking country, we frequently do not recognize when our speech and actions are angering or amusing the local people. #RandolphHarris 16 of 19

Indeed, it may take years to learn the perspective, expectations, and evaluative norms of the natives, and until that happens, a visitor may feel lonely and out of touch. Many students have had the experience of joy and relief at encountering someone from their home when they were abroad. Understanding one another’s feelings is usually immediate between people who know one another. There are occasions, however, when the emotional disclosure of someone well known becomes unintelligible; we cannot comprehend why a friend is terrified, angry, or sexually aroused. This is the case with so-called schizophrenic and neurotic people; their emotionality does not appear to make sense, even to members of their families. Yet, because they are human, it must be assumed that the emotional experience of such sufferers makes sense to them, in the light of their perspective upon the World. If someone is terrified, it is because the person experiences imminent danger; if someone is enraged, it is because someone else has violated that person’s space and integrity. All emotion makes sense when we have imaginatively grasped the perspective of the person who is feeling it. It is such empathy, and the willingness to encounter and enter into dialogue with someone with a different perspective, which is so important for therapists, teachers of children, parents, and those who seek to live and work in another country. #RandolphHarris 17 of 19

The Sacramento Fire Department’s mission is to ensure safety and well-being for residents and visitors through firefighting, public education, enforcement of fire codes, and efficient emergency response resources. “You see a lot in this profession. There was a truck driver driving this tractor-trailer through Sacramento one afternoon, he crossed the highway divider. He hit a Honda head on and crushed it, also a pickup truck with three construction workers in it. We didn’t even see the girl who was driving the Hunda until we got a big tow truck to get the tractor-trailer off her car. She was just jelly. We had to cut her out with the jaws of life. The three construction workers were coming home from work. They didn’t make it. They were crushed inside the truck. The saddest thing is to see an innocent person dying. We had several medical calls recently to a young boy who was extremely sick, and every once in a while he would stop breathing. That was a very painful thin for his parents, and it drew a lot of compassion from firemen. You’ve got to live with these things. When we come back to the situation, I talked about these things with one of the guys I work with. But the traditional male machoism keeps some guys from expressing their true feelings or even talking about it. This guy now has a master’s degree in psychology. He does seminars in Texas on postincident stress reduction, helping firefighters deal with injuries and deaths, mass deaths like in plane crashes. You go out there and do what you have to do, yet a lot of it sets in and affects you. You’ve got to learn to overcome it, to release it instead of bottling it up inside. So we’re learning to do that.” #RandolphHarris 18 of 19

The Sacramento Fire Department recognizes that they face unique challenges in keeping pace with the changing World in which they live and work. They will not forget the traditions of those that came before them. However, they have adapted and progressed so that they can remain successful. “We are a family of individuals committed to serving others. We will always provide for the welfare of our personnel through a health and rewarding work environment. We are dedicated to respect, integrity, compassion, and leadership amongst ourselves so that we may proudly serve others. The Sacramento Fire Department strives to sustain and improve the health, safety, convenience, and welfare of the citizens of Sacramento and to plan for the future development of the community. You can help save lives and property by donating to the Sacramento Fire Department. And remember parents, please raise your children to love America, to be patriotic, to love God and Jesus, respect law and others, treat others with dignity and respect, and remind them of the importance of education. To help America survive the global recession and bring manufacturing jobs back to America and to get American wages at pace with inflation, it is important to buy America cars, American meat, American produce and other American made goods and services. I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic, for which it stands, one nation, under God, indivisible with Liberty and Justice for all. Our Father, our King, be gracious unto us and answer us, for we are wanting in good deeds; deal with us in charity and lovingkindness, and please save us. #RandolphHarris 19 of 19

The Winchester Mystery House

There is only one week left until our Friday the 13th Flashlight Tour 🔦

Don’t miss this unique opportunity to explore the mansion in full darkness on this eerie night 🌔

Please come and enjoy a delicious meal in Sarah’s Café, stroll along the paths of the beautiful Victorian gardens, and wonder through the miles of hallways in the World’s most mysterious mansion.

For further information about tours, including group tours, weddings, school events, birthday party packages, facility rentals, and special events please visit the website: https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/

Please visit the online giftshop, and purchase a gift for friends and relatives as well as a special memento of The Winchester Mystery House. A variety of souvenirs and gifts are available to purchase. https://shopwinchestermysteryhouse.com/

Morally Outraged Citizens

You have more choices and more opportunities than ever before. Like so many things in life, this is both a blessing and a curse. Too many choices and the fear of making bad decisions often lead to decision paralysis, which is one of the challenges of your generation. Only when the gathering of Earthly gains seems futile, and the gains themselves mere dross, will he stop bartering his precious years for them. When a desire lurks hidden in the heart, it may sway actions or influence thoughts without resistance. However, when it rises to the surface and is seen for what it is, then it can be fought and conquered. As his desires quieten, he finds to his surprise that many things hitherto thought indispensable to existence, he can do well without. He who submits his emotions and passions to reason, and his reason to intuition, will save himself from many regrets. So long as he is buffeted between his passionate desire and his self-hating guilt, so long will a distressing tension be sustained. So far they distract the mind and disturb its peace, the struggle against the passions must go on. If he is willing to be instructed–when passion, uncontrollable and blind, irrational and violent, is behind action, the consequences may be harmful to its owner but they may also be instructive. For life is an educational process, which everybody has to undergo whether the pupils like it or not. #RandolphHarris 1 of 17

We are not always the same person. At one period of life, a desire may almost enslave us which has no power over us at a later period. The World can be overcome only to the extent that we overcome ourselves, our endless desires and snaring ambitions, our passions and habits. He has not only to deal with his tendencies but also with his compulsions. However, passion is an insurgent, a rebel against reason whose counterbalance it fears and avoids. Even such normal factors as curiosity and ambition become disturbing when they become excessive, unbalanced, and drive the enslaved mind. As the heart opens to this call of the inner self, the demand comes to the will for a more austere habit of living. It is the difference between gentle austerity and harsh asceticism. We continuously try to “read” our own and others’ motives. The most common bases employed for inferring the intentions, feelings, and need of the other people are observation of facial expression, tone of voice, and gestures, which generally disclose what the person is feeling; and observation of the person’s actions and its consequences, from which we try to infer what he or she is up to. Ordinarily, we can check our inferences about the other person’s motives by asking a direct question. When are we justified in assuming that our own or another person’s motives are unconscious? #RandolphHarris 2 of 17

We can never be absolutely certain, but we can entertain the hypothesis of unconscious motivation when the person acts in ways that produce consequences he or she denies intending to produce; when the person shows many signs of emotion without admitting he or she is experiencing strong feeling; and when there are obvious inconsistencies in action at different times, for example, kindness and brutality, intelligent and stupid behaviour. In addition to these general signs of unconscious motivation, there are other more subtle indicators that a person is not conscious of real influences upon his or her behaviour. These include: Dream content that seems bizarre and incomprehensible to the dreamer. Daydreams that surprise the daydreamer. Errors and “slips” in speech and writing. Body postures and evidence of bodily tensions. The forgetting of intentions, and of the names of people and places. Accidents of all kinds. Performance on certain projective tests of personality. When I am surrounded by pretending people, I sometimes feel so swamped by meaningless two-dimensional cardboard characters that I feel I may be on my way to the madness that is recognized in madness. I think that this may be the way that some of it comes about. #RandolphHarris 2 of 17

Nothing has to come about in one way only, and the discovery of one way eliminates others because then they are not explored. That does not put them out of existence—just out of mind, like all the other possible approached to bodily illness which the American Medical Association will not admit. I think that when we have found one way, we should use it tentatively, as the best that we have latched onto at this time, and at the same time should go on exploring other ways—with the same tentativeness. It sometimes seems to me that madness that is called insanity may sometimes be a reaction produced by the madness (as I see it) that is called sanity, or “realism.” A patent in a mental hospital told a therapist, “You want me to come into your World, but I lived there for twenty-three years and I don’t like it.” The patient was a very mixed up person, but I don’t think that he was mixed up about that. The more mentally ill a person is, the more they are caught in egocentricity, selfishness and uselessness. As for a “schizophrenic person”—there is no such thing. A person scared out of his wits is not person at all. The mission of the Sacramento Fire Department is to provide a forum for the exchange of ideas and information in personnel matters relating to the fire service; provide a forum for the exchange of ideas and information; to advocate for the fire service in public matters; promote a modern fire; develop general improvement in fire services throughout that state and encourage a fraternal friendship among firefighters and their families. #RandolphHarris 3 of 17

“When the alarm came in at nine-thirty that Wednesday morning, we were in class about the enhanced 911 system. All we knew was it was a baby trapped down a well. We were all told to go back to our stations and wait. Only our captain, X, was taken out there, possibly because he’s a small-boned man, yet real aggressive at whatever he does. We just got bits and pieces of what was going on out there during the rest of the day and through the night. We kept calling the dispatcher and asking is they needed relief people, and they never would let us go over there. I got to bed at the station at about two A.M. and got up at seven, so I had five hours’ sleep. Thursday was supposed to be my day off, when I was going to take care of our youngest child. But my wife, Y, got him ready and took him to the sitter’s. The more I thought about the baby in the well, the more I though I should be out there: I’m skinny, and they’re going down holes, and I can fit down holes. So I loaded up and told the dispatcher they probably needed a paramedic, and he agreed. I just went over there on my own. You could say I volunteered myself. This was about eight-thirty Thursday morning. I had to park two blocks away because all the cars and trucks. There were a could of hundred people there, trying to help. #RandolphHarris 4 of 17

“The news people were starting to come in. The well was in the backyard of a house in the middle of the block. Z was already there, standing by the air cascade system they were using to send oxygen down to the trapped baby. The battalion chief and the EMS chief and everybody else were listening to the microphone they had lowered down the well. I saw the hole they had drilled down the day before, about five and a half feet from the well, and they were sending guys down there to drill horizontally across to the well. The well itself was just a metal casing sticking up about two or three inches above ground. It was about eight inches in diameter. They had a yellow tent over it like workers use over manholes in the streets. A fire captain was guarding the air house, a real Mr. By-the-book type guy, who just broke out and started jumping all over anyone who came close to it. Actually, he did a good job. Police officers A and Officer B did all the monitoring of the hole. The baby in the well” (will remained unknow and be called “C” for privacy). “Her parents lived out in the country, and this well was in the backyard of her sister’s house, where she was operating an unlicensed day care center. There were five or six kids in the backyard when C went down the well. The older kids were playing by themselves, and the younger kids were playing by themselves. #RandolphHarris 5 of 17

“There was supposed to be a rock over the hole, and I saw some big rocks near there. Then we heard that there was a potted plant sitting on it, and I observed a bucker with what looked like a cactus plant in it that had been turned over and pushed out of the way. They couldn’t tell exactly how far down the well the baby had fallen, because the other small children threw stuff in after her, foliage from the yard. So we could only seen down eighteen feet and lower the mike that far. They were afraid to disturb the plant material, for fear they would make more stuff fall on C. They had lowered flashlights, and when I looked down I saw the lights shining on the green foliage stuff. I listened at the mike and could hear her moaning. That was the last time I looked down the well, but I kept going and checking with the officers on what they were hearing. Supposedly the night before she had slept for about three hours because they didn’t hear noises from her in that time. I don’t know why the kids threw the stuff down the well after her. They were so young they didn’t know the gravity of the situation. Perhaps they were just being playful. There was a story that two older kids put the baby in there, or she might have been pushed. But from the position in which I found her, I feel that she stepped in with one foot, lost her balance, and went down, because one foot was down and one was up. #RandolphHarris 6 of 17

“My captain, X, had twice been down digging and hard worked for a day and a night, and he had been ordered to go home because he looked exhausted. He could have kept going, he’s in excellent condition, but they felt they had to order him to leave. Chief K of the fire department and Chief D of the police department were pretty much in control of the whole operation. The drilling engineer, Mr. L, was in charge of the digging. And Captain E was a coordinator. There was talk that the first person to reach the baby should take her out. But because there might have been serious injuries to the baby’s neck and back, we thought it should be a paramedic. We talked to the doctors there, and Dr. F and Dr. H, and Dr. I talked to the chiefs for us, and it was agreed it would be a paramedic who would bring the baby out. The only exception would be if, when they broke through to her, she just kind of grabbed somebody and she looked good and healthy, then they could bring her out. We had the smallest backboard all ready, cut down still further in size. The hole they drilled straight down was about thirty inches wide, a pretty good-sized shaft, big enough for two small, skinny guys like Z and myself to stand in it side by side. The tunnel they were digging across to the well was much narrower, but some pretty big guys were doing the drilling. One guy had a forty-six-inch chest, so we figured we shouldn’t have any trouble at all. #RandolphHarris 7 of 17

“They were digging through hard rock to a point in the well below where the baby was wedged, then coming up vertically beside her, and a window between the two was being chopped out to get to her. They put a sort of bubble or inflated air bag below her to protect her from the drilling. It wasn’t until one o’clock on Friday that the drillers told us they were ready for us to go down. We went over to the hole. Any time we moved toward it, the media went crazy, thinking the rescue was coming up. But the chiefs made us go back to the ambulance. We were brought over to Chief D’s motor home for a last conference, Z and myself and this other guy, J, who was a rapeller, a rope man. Then we went down. I went in first. I was real apprehensive. I don’t go into caves a lot. I’ve been in tight places, but usually by choice, not by need. I’m real cautious, aggressive but cautious. I try to evaluate everything before I do it. Mr. L was still in the hole. He took the bubble out and talked to me for a minute. Then I went into the tunnel. I had no room at all. I had to decide whether to go on my stomach or my back. My shoulders were pressed on both sides. I had to position the light so it would shine up into the well. I got my first look at her. But I couldn’t touch her. To get my arm in there, I had to crawl back out and start back in with my arm ahead of me. #RandolphHarris 8 of 17

“The width of the tunnel was probably fifteen to sixteen inches, and its height was no more than twelve to fourteen inches. I had no headroom. When my head was at the back of the tunnel was the only time I could see up into the well. I got scratched all over my forearm and elbow forcing my arm up into the well. I though, ‘Oh, God, how am I going to do this?’ All I saw dangling down was her left foot. So first off, I started an evaluation of her physically. How is she doing? What can she move? What can’t she move? People had told us they thought she was horizontal in some kind of widening of the shaft. So I couldn’t just start pulling because I was afraid I would snap her back or her neck. They had said I could reach her. But reaching up with my right arm, I could feel her left leg and her buttocks, and that was it. I couldn’t reach any higher or find her right leg or anything else. She was conscious. Not crying, but moaning. I got her to move her left foot for me. She did that. I told her to move her upper body, and I could feel her move somewhat. It looked like she was trying. I told her to push as hard as she could with her right foot, and it seemed that she went up a little bit. I communicated all this to the doctor by the phone line they had down there. They gave me a wedge made of a two-by-four and a round piece of plywood on top, supposedly to push her up and feel around her. #RandolphHarris 9 of 17

“I was able to push her no more than three inches. It sounded like she was throwing up. I told her to turn her head to the side and spit it up. I didn’t want her strangling on her own throw-up. I determined that we couldn’t get her out right then. I didn’t know what position she was in, and I didn’t have enough room. So I told her we’d be back. To me, on God’s green Earth, that’s the hardest thing I ever did in my life, leave that little girl in the well that first time. I came back out. We went into conference, and all the chiefs and doctors were there. And every time I would get close to talking about having to leave her there, I would get teary-eyed, and my voice would crack. The doctors took this as a sign of emotional instability or whatever. It was the first time I had been in a situation like that, and with me, the first time I go into something, as a paramedic or firefighter, I always get real emotional. When we got out of the hole, Z was first, and his face was so solemn that people thought it meant that the baby was dead. This big water drill had been there since early in the morning, but they hadn’t put it in use because Mr. L thought it was too dangerous. They had flown it from Memphis to Huston on a United Parcel 747. It took a place that size to carry it. So Chief A and Chief D insisted that Mr. L use the water drill. So they took it down there, and they really did a good job with it. Meanwhile, the doctors were talking to the chief, expressing their concern about whether I was emotionally and physically able to go back down in. #RadolphHarris 10 of 17

“He took me aside. He said, ‘We don’t need any macho trips. There’s no shame. If you can’t go down in, just tell me, just be honest with me.’ I told him, ‘Chief, I can go down one more time. If we don’t get her out this time, there is no way I can go down again. I would be mentally, emotionally, and physically wiped out.’ So he understood that, and he backed me. Assistant Chief M backed me. Evidently Chief D did, too. And N, the EMS chief, really backed me. He said I was the one to do it. They had confidence in me. We had plenty of guys in the department who were willing to go down, so they really had to feel good about me or they wouldn’t have let me. We went down a second time. I’m not really sure of the time, I know it was still daylight, six-thirty or seven. We had done a lot of sitting around, waiting. Everybody was saying, this is our last chance. Nobody said it to me personally, but the word was, if we had to break bones, break bones. Whatever we had to do to get her out. J, the rope man, came up with a device I could lift her with, a tripod pole maybe an inch wide, with the tape on the top. He was the guy who did all the rigging in the hole. He helped us a lot. Down in the tunnel, Mr. L said, “This is it, O. This is the best it’s going to get.” They had chipped away with the water drill and give me some headroom and more shoulder room. So he went to the surface, and Z came down with the stuff we thought we were going to need. #RandolphHarris 11 of 17

“I had the tripod pole with me. I went into the hole and talked to baby C. I tried to lift her with the tripod pole, and it was too short. So Z got J on the phone, and he found me a longer tripod pole. This one had a rubber stopper on the tip of it. I tried to push the baby with it, and I couldn’t move her at all. I was lying there trying to figure out what to do. Looking at the tripod pole, I saw that the other end of it had a rubberized point that couldn’t hurt anybody. So I used it as a probe to see if I could figure out the position of her body. I poked it up the wall of the well shaft along her spine. I knew if I encountered anything solid, that would give me some indication of what body part was where. I ran it up along her spine past her head, and air rushed down at me from the well above her. That meant she was in a vertical position. Her back was straight up and down. I did the same thing with the pole at the side of the shaft where the right leg should be. It went all the way up, and air rushed through again. So I knew her right foot was up by her head somewhere. I went all the way around her body with the pole. Then I knew that she wasn’t in any crevice or bubble-shaped position. The metal casing I had seen at the top of the well didn’t go very far down, and the rest of the well was lined with a sticky petroleum-type substance. It was like glue or tar. I had it all over my hands. If you got into the stuff, you just stuck to it. #RandolphHarris 12 of 17

So then I knew she wasn’t lying down and I could pull on her without breaking her back or injuring anything. I talked to Dr. P and the female pediatrician, Dr. Q, and I called for the K-Y jelly. They sent down some baby forceps that they use at childbirth, but they were useless in this tunnel. Earlier I had tried to use goggles to keep stuff from falling in my eyes, but they fogged up immediately. It was real warm and humid down there. I was down there close to an hour and a half. All activity above the hole had totally ceased. Z opened the K-Y jelly and gave it to me, but there was a seal that had to be broken, so I had to throw it back to him to break that. This whole time he was doing great. He was having to deal with those at the top on the phone, and he was having to deal with me, because when I wanted something I wanted it two seconds ago, not later. And his legs were cramping real bad at the same time, and I didn’t know it. I smeared the K-Y jelly over the walls of the well all the way up to the baby’s bottom. Now I needed paper towels because I’ve got this stuff all over the place. I told Z that is the paper towels hit him on the head and knocked him out, I was going to kill him. My attempted at a joke. Now came the pulling time. I was totally confident. I felt we were going to get her out, no matter what it took. And I wasn’t going to some out of that hole without her, unless they came and dragged me out. #RandolphHarris 13 of 17

“She had on snap-on pants. They had come undone from the left leg, and I was using them to pull on. She was stuck to the walls, and she was crying and whining. I would pull as hard as I could, and she would tense up; then as soon as she would relax, I would pull again. The first couple of inches were the hardest to get her to move. They were really pressuring us from the top. I had Z tell them we had moved her a quarter of an inch, to get them to leave us alone for a while. I was pulling as hard as I could, and she kept tensing up. Both of my arms were exhausted. My right arm went numb two or three times. Once I got her started in the K-Y jelly, I was able to move her a half inch at a time, and she would tense up again. I knew she was coming down. Z got the backboard ready. When I got her all the way into the K-Y jelly, I had no more problems. I got her out of the hole and turned over on my stomach. I reached for the backboard, but there wasn’t room for it, because her right leg was beside the right side of her head. All the time I was telling her to stay calm, that we were going to get her out, we weren’t going to leave her again. When I got her in the K-Y jelly, she was quieter, because it wasn’t hurting her anymore. She didn’t say a word. Of course, she was only eighteen months old. She made different sounds, but nothing I could understand. She knew someone was there trying to help her. #RandolphHarris 14 of 17

“I couldn’t get her out on the board, so I pulled her onto my right arm, supporting her back and neck. The light hit her left pupil and she reacted, which was great. It was a good sign. I pulled her right leg in far enough so I could get her on the backboard. Z was getting stuffy out of the way, and while I was waiting, I said something like ‘Great’ or ‘Fantastic.’ I said it too loud, and she jumped a little bit. To me that was a good sign, too. But all she was doing was lying on the board, just looking around, real relaxed. I slipped her out, supporting her with my legs, and Z wrapped her waist to her chest. We used a Velcro strap across her chest to make sure she stayed on the board. Z put a towel on her neck, because the cervical collar was too small. I took white surgical tape and went all around the board and around the towel. Her hands were welded to her temples by the sticky substance. We left her right hand where it was. We didn’t try to straighten out any limbs. We finished getting her strapped. Then Z stood in the shaft holding her. I secured her to him with seat belt straps. I secured them both to the tether line of the back board, and I attached him to the main cable of the rig. So he went up with her. The only thing that fell down from her was a pair of toy binoculars and a few twigs. When I first got her, there was a big twig between her right arm and her chest. I thought it was embedded, but when I moved her arm I saw that it wasn’t, so I threw it out of the way. Nothing else, none of the green stuff. #RandolphHarris 15 of 17

“I heard them yell and scream up top, everybody was just ecstatic. I was yelling, too. Nobody could hear me, but I didn’t care. I was totally calm. As a matter of fact, I was totally exhausted, mentally and emotionally. I was light-headed, I was having a hard time focusing. I just felt I needed oxygen. So I was trying to get stuff together, and the chief said, ‘Come out now.’ He meant now, and he said it a couple of times. So I said, ‘The heck with this stuff.’ They brought me out, and I shook the chief’s hand. He’s a big man, and I just laid my head on his shoulder for a minute. I did see little C and her parents at the hospital. She looked a lot different, a lot better. She looked somewhat swollen, and I hadn’t realized that mark on her forehead was such a bad scrape. They planted a tree in that backyard that will live as long as she does. And we’re going to put a plaque on that backboard and put it in our museum. It was great to be part of it. The next time I might not be so lucky. I know that the job I do is well worth all the time and all the nonsense we go through, and the good times and the bad times. If I end up dying of cancer because of the smoke, or if I end up dying in a fire, I never think about that. I know it can happen, but that’s my job, and I love doing it. I’ve thought in the past about switching, but this guy’s going to be there until they run me off. Until I can’t do it anymore.” #RandolphHarris 16 of 17

The Sacramento Fire Department provides the citizens of Sacramento with the ability to create safer communities; they assist and support the fire service community and the protection of life and property; and they promote and enhance firefighter safety; the Sacramento Fire Department also provides a fire service leadership presence in the Executive Office of Public Safety and Security in order to direct policy and legislation on all fire related matters. Their core values are innovation, inclusivity, dedication, courageousness, excellence, ethicality, professionalism, and transparency. You can help save lives by making a donation to the Sacramento Fire Department. In an effort to keep the country cohesive, please raise your children to love America, to be patriotic, to love God and Jesus Christ and buy American cars and other American goods and services. As along, respect law and order, and treat others with kindness and respect. And to ensure you have a bright future, please take your education seriously. I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the republic for which it stands, one nation, under God, indivisible with liberty and justice for all. O beautiful for spacious skies, for amber waves of grain, for purple mountains majesties above the fruited plain! America! America! God shed His grace on three, and crown thy good with brotherhood from sea to shining sea! O beautiful for pilgrim feet, whose stern, impassioned stress, a thoroughfare for freedom beat across the wilderness! America! America! God mend thine every flow, confirm thy soul in self-control, Thy liberty in law! O beautiful for patriot dream that sees beyond the years, Thine alabaster cities gleam, undimmed by human tears! America! America! God shed His grace on thee, and crown thy good with brotherhood from sea to shining sea! God never gave us express allowance, only He gave us reason, charity, nature and good example to bear us out. #RandolphHarris 17 of 17

The Winchester Mystery House

Our exclusive Flashlight Tour is back for one night only this December, Friday the 13th! 🔦🌙

Venture through the dark, winding halls of the mansion at night—armed only with a flashlight and your courage. And when the lights go out… there’s no turning back! (link in bio)

Please come and enjoy a delicious meal in Sarah’s Café, stroll along the paths of the beautiful Victorian gardens, and wonder through the miles of hallways in the World’s most mysterious mansion. For further information about tours, including group tours, weddings, school events, birthday party packages, facility rentals, and special events please visit the website: https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/

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If I Do Not Look Away Soon

Every now and then, we would have someone disappear. There was ample reason for the frightening events to take place. The breeze coming in the window suddenly turned slightly cool and smelled of the sea. The door near the porch atop the stairs would not stay closed, the door seemingly unlocked itself, and Zip would freeze when approaching the staircase leading to the second floor. As if recently painted with blood, the walls dripped. I doubt I could ever remove the blood stains. This Victorian structure was a monument to things long dead. As if seeking a victim, its windows, like malevolent eyes, leer out at the quiet evening. Peering at them, people often wondered what lurked inside. I felt a chill creep up my spine. Although I had come to terms with my ESP faculty and was no longer frightened by it, I knew if I did not look away soon that a dim, ghastly face would appear at one of the windows. A moment later, I slipped away. I sudden found myself staring at the farther attic window. A bone chilling cold have crept up my spine. The skin on the back of my neck felt tight and tingly. At the far end of the room is a tower. It has a witch’s cap. As I looked down on the floor, I discovered the skeleton of a hand and a foot and scraps of scalp placed there in a perfect triangle. Looking at what I knew were human remains, I screamed running quickly out of the room, and up the spiral stairs. #RandolphHarris 1 of 7

Slowly, I regained control of myself. The knot of fear in my stomach had loosened. When I saw the tall, dark, man, I screamed and cowered. His face was obscured by a long, brown beard, and a large, black hat. However, nothing could obscure the fact that his eyes flashed red in the blackness of the night. He observed me, smiling from a cruel-looking mouth, his voice harsh and malevolent. “Now,” he commanded, “Mrs. Winchester, come with me.” There was nothing I wanted less than to be led through my home by the tall, dark man. However, I felt that I had no choice, so I went with him. My anxiety was not was not eased when the door to the attic flew open on its own accord, trembling on its hinges. And when we walked out of the room, the door slammed shut behind us so hard that the noise echoed throughout the house. Then before I could move, my body was compelled forward and I was swept away into the night. The journey through my labyrinth took hours. Bats flitted above us in great numbers, and at the end of the hallway, there were hundreds of shadows. Everything was so terrifying; I wish I had stayed unconscious longer. As we journeyed along the forbidden East wing of the mansion, I could hear hounds of hell malevolently howling into the darkness of the night. The souls of the dead cry out for its blood. #RandolphHarris 2 of 7

Not a ray of light came from the high windows. When I arrived at the altar room, I was left alone. Directly in front of me was a huge, wooden door. Very slowly, the door creaked open. I felt like I was walking down a dark street, stalked by stealthy footsteps, afraid of what I might find sneaking up on me if I should dare to glance over my shoulder. I had to look. I searched the windows. Though nothing showed through their blackness, my skin went tight and crawly. Suddenly, I broke into a run. I raced down the hallway and around the corner. I had seen something. Awful, desperate feelings built up and tears blurred my vision as I struggled to get away. I ran into the bathroom and tripped over the end of the bathtub. Falling toward the water, I noticed it was red. An unclothed maiden was reclining in the bath, with her arms stretched out. Her wrists were crossed-hatched with slashes and eyes wide, gazing toward the ceiling. Her face was contorted with pain and horror. Her shredded gown, a white the had gone red. The tatters covered little more than her bosom and loins. The exposed flesh, from neck to thighs, was punctured and stripped with raw wounds. Bright crimson sheathed her body. Goosebumps scurried up my skin. Then there was a sound which froze my blood. Knocking a chair to the floor, I listened in terror. It was a low, sweet rippled of laughter. The laughter of the ghouls. I built this house with blood money. Blood comes of blood. #RandolphHarris 3 of 7

The house was searched from attic to basement. They found more torn, chewed bodies of more victims on the second floor. And the most horrific sight was reserved for the third floor. Two bodies lay facedown between the mahogany beds. Their bloody nightshirts were ripped to shreds, and so was their skin. In despair, I made a long, exhausting journey back to the Daisy Bedroom. I collapsed on the bed and looked out at my estate. For as long as I lived (which did not look as if it was going to be very long) I would never, ever forget the gruesome horrors I witnessed. It must have been the middle of the night when I awoke with a jolt. I had a feeling of a presence in the room. I looked around and at the foot of my bed stood a woman dressed in pioneer clothes. Her figure was completely white and as I looked at her, she seemed to fade away slowly. Deciding that I was dreaming, I turned over and went back to sleep. A moment later when I was still not fully asleep, I heard sounds by the side of my bed. It sounded as if an animal were passing by. I turned and to my horror, saw the perfect imprints of a bear’s pawprints on the side of the bed. I screamed. His warm breath on my face smelled of the Earth and wild, uninhabited forests. He lay his hands upon my shoulders. Claws bit into me. I stood before the demon, helpless with fear and wonder. Sobbing loudly, I pressed one hand across my eyes. My other hand shook. #RandolphHarris 4 of 7

Petrified of what was going to happen to me, and jumping in fright at even the tiniest sound. I realized that I was all alone. I never felt so desolate in my life, knowing that I had been left here as a porcelain doll for the terror feast of demons, ghosts, and ghouls! I knew I had to escape, but it would ultimately be fatal. It broke my heart to know that I would never see my beloved William or Annie again, or perhaps this was the moment our souls would be reunited. I must have drifted off, because some hours later I woke up. I gave a little cry of fright. I could not see anything, but I could sense that someone was in the room. I peered into the darkness with dread, my heart thumping, and my forehead damp with perspiration. “Is anyone there?” I said. There was a short silence, and then a noise, a sort of scary, rustling noise, just inches away from my bed. Whole body began to tremble. There was such a terrible wind outside and something sinter in the air. I fled my bedroom in panic, frequently falling over furniture. I continued on. The horror of this began to oppress me as never before, and I could not keep from thinking of my maddening dreams, of the frightful legends which lay behind my fortune. I did not know how long or how far—or indeed, in just what direction—I had walked. However, I knew there would be rooms opening on the right, and at the farther end of stairs that wound down to still lower depths. #RandolphHarris 5 of 7

I questioned how did I know that there was a level far underground? How did I know that the path leading to the Observational Tower should have been behind me? How did I know the secret passage to the Crystal Bedroom ought to lie on the left level above me? How did I know that the room of rare antiquities, and the rightward-leading passageway to the central library, ought to lie two levels below? How did I know that there would be one of those horrible, metal-banded trap-doors at the very bottom, four levels down? Bewildered by the frightful atmosphere, I found myself shaking and bathed in a cold perspiration. My home was fraught with infinite suggestions of knighted mystery. As if in the clutch of some compelling fate, I seemed to move almost automatically. I felt dim memories tugging at my mind. A figure leaned toward me, a blackened shape whose features for the moment remained unseen. I cringed inward, my body tightening, shrinking. Nothing was ever lost from Llanada Villa’s labyrinth vaults: although traumas may be hidden, perhaps placated, not all can be laid to rest; some merely lie low in anticipation of future arousal. I could see an energy field that was frantically moving about. It suddenly moved quickly towards me, and I tried to move out of its path just as quickly. It stopped, and then moved back to a door near the end of the hall, flittering back and forth. I felt an overwhelming vibration of anxiety in the atmosphere. #RandolphHarris 6 of 7

I took a deep breath and walked to the door where the energy seemed to concentrate its activity. I felt a terrible dread consume me as I stepped forward. Then I froze, for I saw this image of a woman, and she was throwing herself at this door. I could hear a crash as she would hit it. And then I was overcome with information that there was great danger for her family. After the spirit in the hallway had demonstrated such an incredible explosion of energy, it was suddenly gone. In the stillness, the creaking of door sounded as loud as a scream. With infinite reluctance, I climbed down thirteen steps and entered a clandestine room. My heart raced and pounded, and I peered into the night, anxiously waiting for the horrible approach of what might be making a horrible approach. I waited for ages. It seemed to get colder and darker. I signed deeply, the breath sounding like the wind sweeping autumn leaves along the pavement. There was a hammering at the front door. Treading cautiously, glass crunching beneath my boots, I made my way to the front door and peeped through the window. Clearly standing on the veranda was a young boy and I could see the posts through him! I was not sure I could believe my eyes and when I turned around, he was gone. Then everything in the room was thrown about and smashed. Tables were lifted and overturned, chairs smashed to pieces, bookcases upset, and heavy settees thrown over. There was no one there. Confused thoughts and troubled emotions ran through my mind. I lay in the darkness, remembering the look and feel and voice of William #RandolphHarris 7 of 7

The Winchester Mystery House

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Guilt Goes Away, Being Dead Does Not

The skies were more greyer than gold. As I walked back along the hallway, I was aware of the vapor of my own breath. It must have been 48 degrees Fahrenheit. Closing the door behind me, I paused for a moment and listened. There were voices coming from somewhere. Hushed voices, little more than whispers. “Daisy?” I said softly. “Mr. Hansen?” Silence now. I went to other doors, looked in, searching. They were all empty. I climbed the stairs, taking the opposite direction to one of my favourite bedrooms when I reached the corridor. I stopped outside Daisy’s bedroom and knocked softly. There was no response. I called her name, but still no reply came. I went further along to mount a narrow set of stairs that twisted round to the floor above. In the distant past, the rooms up there had been occupied by my servants, but this was now where my aunt had her living quarters. There were several doors along the rough-boarded corridor, and I tapped on each one. Again, I received no answer. I stood there for a while, in that shadowy place, mystified. Apart from myself, the house appeared to be empty. When I returned to the ground floor, on the last step I came to a halt. I listened intently. One voice this time. A tune being hummed. I took the last step into the hall and walked to its center where I slowly turned a full circle in an attempt to get a bearing on the sound. #RandolphHarris 1 of 7

The basement door was ajar. The voice drifted up from its depths. Although my footsteps were soft as I approached the open doorway, the faint humming stopped. I bent close to the gap, waiting, listening, a draft chilling my face. Nothing. I pushed the door further open and felt inside for the light switch I knew was at the top of the basement stairs. The light was poorer than before, casting even deeper shadows. I descended the cement steps. Once at the bottom, I took in the broad, bricked chamber with covered furniture and broken statues scattered here and there. “Daisy, are you down here?” My voice was controlled. It sounded hollow within the confines of the basement. Only silence greeted me. Somehow the silence was mocking. I shivered, feeling the bitter cold. Then I stiffened when I heard footsteps from. They grew louder, descending the steps. Darkness silvered the window and gave me nothing to look at but my own image, but it seemed appropriate to my line of thought. How many people were enemies of that face, of the eyes, of the nose, of the mouth that was soft in relaxation. How many enemies? I mused. A few I could name, others I could guess. Suddenly I was depressed. When I called out to whomever was in the room, I received no reply. Finally, I thought this was odd and went further into the basement, and there, in a hair, I found a man dead. His face appeared to be sinking into a nest of flesh. #RandolphHarris 2 of 7

The account had given men a strange chill. It suddenly occurred to me how little I knew about my own home. However, the icy hush that had settled over me was broken when I let go of the chair and turned toward the stairs. Needless to say, I had no visitors from the flesh-and-blood World. The man that was dead in the basement was a carpenter. He came to Llanada Villa to do so building, and someone accidentally killed him and left him in the freezing cold basement. The next morning, my eyes red with exhaustion, I discussed this experience with my niece Daisy. Until now I had been reluctant to draw her into these matters, but the impression had been so overpowering that I just had to tell someone. To my surprise, Daisy was not very upset. Instead, she told me of an account she had. The night before, the figure of a lady in white had appeared to Daisy in a dream, telling her to pack, for she would seen be taking her away! When Daisy had concluded her report, I calmed her as best I could and reminded her that some dreams are merely expressions of unconscious fears. Later that evening, I noticed a bouncing light at the top of the stairs as I was about to go to bed. The light followed me to my room as if it had a mind of its own. When I entered my room the light left, but the room felt icy. I was disturbed by this, but nevertheless went to be and soon had forgotten all about it as sleep came to me. #RandolphHarris 3 of 7

Suddenly, in the middle of the night, I woke and sat up in bed. There were footsteps in the rafters over my bedroom. They came across the ceiling from one side of the room to the other. At the head of my bed, I saw a man who was “beige-coloured.” As I stared at the apparition it went away, again leaving the room very chilly. Some restless spirit, freed from the shackles of the body, finally enjoyed his unobstructed power to roam the house and do whatever he pleased. And perhaps he now even enjoyed the vicarious thrill of frightening me, and becoming the stronger party in the house. Without question we were faced with the remains of an unknown civilization older than any dreamed of before, and forming a basis for legends. As a psychic, I can tell you these apparitions are so ancient they frightened me. Discomfort and expectancy were oddly mingled in myself and the servants at lengthen as the days drew on. I felt I had entered the realm of utter desolation. A certain absolute terror grew on me—a terror of course abetted by the fact that my disturbing dreams and pseudo-memories still best me with unabated force. There was a distinct trace of evil—and my hands trembled as I recognize the diabolic scheme through years of tormenting nightmare and baffling research. #RandolphHarris 4 of 7

The deeper—and the farther north and east—we expanded my estate, the more apparitions we found; through we still failed to discover any trace of their source. Mr. Hasen was appalled at the measureless number of the spirits and how the caused the walls to curve and floors to slant. We also found traces of symbols which fitted darkly into certain medieval legends of infinite antiquity. They affected me queerly and disagreeably. They seemed, after a fashion, to dovetail horribly with something which I had dreamed or read, but which I could no longer remember. There was a terrible pseudo-familiarity about them—which somehow made me look furtively and apprehensively over the abominable, sterile terrain toward the north and northeast wings of the mansion. I developed an unaccountable set of mixed emotions about that general northeasterly region. There was horror, and there was curiosity—but more than that, there was a persistent and perplexing illusion of memory. I tried all sorts of psychological expedients to get these notions out of my head, but met with no success. Sleeplessness also gained upon me, but I almost welcomed this because of the resultant shortening of my dream-periods. I acquired the habit of taking long, lone walks through my labyrinth late at night—usually to the north or northeast, whither the sum of my strange new impulses seemed subtly to pull me. Sometimes, on these walks, I would stumble unto nearly hidden rooms of ancient masonry. #RandolphHarris 5 of 7

Fog spread over throughout the air in a thick paste, casting a dank pallor over the sprawling hallways and legion of rooms. My home was terrorized by a mysterious society known as “The Goats.” These wretches met at night in a secret room, and partook in the most hideous festivities, which included paying of divine honours to Satan and other demons of the Sabbat, they donned masks fashioned to imitate goats’ heads, cloaked themselves with long disguise mantles, and sallied forth in bands. This is typically when the fog rolled in. Through the mansion, we would often see people wearing hideous black masks with huge horns which it is death for the uninitiated to see. The Devil started up himself in the Pulpit like a mickle black man, and calling the row, everyone answered here. The first thing he demanded was whether they had been good servants, and what they had done since the last time they convened. The witches adored Satan, or the Master of the Sabbat who presided in place of Satan. In solemn bows and seemly courtesies, the worshippers of the Demon approached him awkwardly, with mops and mows, sometimes straddling sideways, sometimes walking backwards. The witches who resorted to the Sabbat approach the throne with their backs turned, and worship him…and then, as a sign of their homage, they kissed his fundament. An indication of my poor nervous health was caused as a response to these odd discoveries which I made on my nocturnal rambles. #RandolphHarris 6 of 7

Often times, I would run for safety at top speed. It was a wholly unconscious and irrational flight, and only when I felt I was close a healing room did I fully realize why I had run. Then it came to me. The queer dark ceremonies were something which I had dreamed and read about, and which was linked with the uttermost horror of the aeon-old legendary. Things festered in Llanada Villa’s nether abysses and against whose wind-like, invisible forces the trapdoors were sealed. I remained awake all that night, but by dawn I realized how silly I had been to let the shadow of a Sabbat upset me. One night, after a windy day, I retired early but could not sleep. Rising shortly before midnight and afflicted as usual with that strange feeling regarding the northeastward wing of the mansion, I set out on one of my typical nocturnal walks. The moon, slightly past full, shone through the skylights and drenched the hallways with a radiance which seemed to me somehow infinitely evil. There was no longer any wind. “Tonight,” whispered an apparition, “all the evil in the World will be let loose. You will be at the mercy of forces you never dreamed existed.” I screamed in terror. “Mrs. Winchester,” she said, “for the sake of your soul always continue building this fortress.” “I will,” I said in a quiet voice. Although I shivered, I told myself that such fears were merely absurd superstitions. At about 3.30 A.M., a violent wind blew, waking everyone in the mansion. The sky was unclouded, and the fireplaces still blazed. And yet, everyone seemed to feel something sinister in the air. #RandolphHarris 7 of 7

The Winchester Mystery House

A family ghost, built up through generations of psychic reconstruction, can almost become an independent mental mechanism. Whether the ghost actually whispered, or Mrs. Winchester’s heightened psychic sensitivity allowed her to feel the presence of the ghost prior to its actual materialization makes for interesting speculation.

Please come and enjoy a delicious meal in Sarah’s Café, stroll along the paths of the beautiful Victorian gardens, and wonder through the miles of hallways in the World’s most mysterious mansion. For further information about tours, including group tours, weddings, school events, birthday party packages, facility rentals, and special events please visit the website: https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/

Please visit the online giftshop, and purchase a gift for friends and relatives as well as a special memento of The Winchester Mystery House. A variety of souvenirs and gifts are available to purchase. https://shopwinchestermysteryhouse.com/

Gladiators’ School

When we see the effect one person can have, it is perhaps no wonder that the Lord reminded us, “Remember the worth of souls.” Evolutionary agents chart the path to the future. They prefabricate future visions, build new hives, custom make plan-its, encourage migration, and teach scientific mastery of the nervous system as an instrument to decode atomic, molecular and subnuclear processes so as to attain immortality, cloning, and extraterrestrial existence. Evolutionary agents study history because understanding out roots is important. We cannot navigate into the future with any confidence unless we understand the rhythms and coherence of past voyages. A philosopher demonstrates understanding of the past by the accuracy of predictions about the future. After we trace our roots backward—back East—it is necessary to move westward into The Future. The time has come to catch the coming waves rolling into the future. They are going to be big ones. The evolution of intelligence involves three great change processes employed by deoxyribonucleic acid (DNA). The DNA change processes: Mutation—A species getting smarter. Metamorphosis—Individuals getting smarter. Migration—Individuals moving to a new space to better live out new capacities. #RandolphHarris 1 of 21

Every time you improve, every time you change, every time a challenge increases your intelligence, you have to migrate to find a new space to live out your new capacity, to custom-make your new vision. Mobility is the classic stimulus for Intelligence Increase. Learn to be comfortable with the idea of change. Understanding how our intelligence has evolved reveals who we are. The strategy of evolution is to raise the intelligence of species. Do not let others scare you about change. We each pass through at least twelve volatile and dramatic changes during our lifetimes. Each of us possesses within our nervous systems twelve primitive brains that emerge in sequence as we develop—evolve if you will—from infancy to adult maturity. Cryptography decoding of the DNA helix suggest that each of us has twelve post-terrestrial brains scheduled to activate in sequence as we move into a prefabricate the post-hive future! Terrestrial theologians recognize the supernatural and otherworldly powers of great Evolutionary Agents like Jesus Christ that separate them in time and potency from the hive reality. “Supernatural” is jargon to describe anything beyond hive-platitude. Often Evolutionary Agents must endure long periods of quiescence and obscurity. These can be times of grave peril, obstruction or hive-disgrace. #RandolphHarris 2 of 21

Evolutionary Agents, also known as Out-Castes, have been selected on the basis of their capacity to face and survive experiences that would be judged unendurable by terrestrials. Agents’ childhoods abound in anecdotes of precocious sagacity, strength, and independence from hive-mortals. The scandalous escapades of Jesus Christ, the prowess of Hercules, the boyish wisdom of Einstein, the early verbal cleverness of the Galileo, and the patience of Robert Goddard are a few examples. Human beings, pre-selected from each gene pool, are having their neural circuits activated—usually without their awareness—to fabricate future realities as well as future gene pools. These individuals are genetically tempted to live much of the time in the future. They are, to a large extent, alienated from current hive realities. Unaware of their genetic assignment, many Agents feel agonizingly out of step. Some are shunned and even locked up by the gene pools they serve. Those who are lucky enough to recognize their post-human genetic caste attain a level of great prescience and humorous insight. They understand that they are time travelers, literally walking around in past civilizations—a most entertaining and effective role to play. While they have little power to change the ripples of history or the waves of evolution, they surf them with increasing skill. #RandolphHarris 3 of 21

As out-castes they are cast out, thrown forward, pushed up, above and beyond, contemporary hive realities. Such Evolutionary Agents are best described as Out-Castes. They are cast out, thrown forward, pushed up, above and beyond, contemporary give realities. As evolution accelerates increasing numbers of Evolutionary Agents are emerging. In the 1960s every gene pool cast out its Futique Agents. We are now learning to identify these out-castes and how to benefit from their contribution to the species. The word “Agent” has been in well-deserved ill-repute, especially in political, diplomatic and showbiz circles. It suggests an unscrupulous bureaucratic scoundrel devoid of creativity, aesthetics, principles or talent who, by virtue of shameless cunning, places himself in central positions of power and control. The raison d’etre of the agent is, of course, the deal. The deal involves the alchemy of link-up, package and connection. The agent’s tools are persuasion, negotiation, bluff, manipulation, and salesmanship. The Agent Caste has existed throughout human history, dating back to the Neolithic period when artifacts, abstract-concepts, symbols, intertribal barter systems, and paperwork began to replace direct face-to-face interactions within tribe exchanges. As left-hemisphere technological society emerged, each gene pool produced Agents to represent the assets and interests of the sperm-egg collective in dealing with other gene-colonies. #RandolphHarris 4 of 21

In Feudal times, agents represented the Crown of the Lord in dealing with serfs, peasants, tenants, traders and the agents of other Lords. The sordid odor attributed to agents probably dates back to their role as ruthless tax-collectors, dishonest traders, not to forget the many incidents in which agents betrayed their masters to seize power. The Caste of Agents took on more importance and a more attractive appearance during the emergence of democratic societies when agents became political representatives of the various classes, castes, guilds, brotherhoods, and gene pools which sought to share power in a democratic tradition. The history of civilization is the history of agentry, which is to be expected since agents cunningly arrange for the publication of the history books. Wars are won and lost by generals, but when the smoke clears and the bodies are dragged off the battlefield, the real bottom-line stuff happens—the peace treaties, the Councils of Nice, Trent, Versailles, Vienna, Geneva—all managed by agents. When the autobiographies are written and generals from both sides peddle their memoirs, it is the gents who make the deals. The high-points in the annals of agentry have always come at moments of species mutation. Who has not marveled at the astuteness of Algy Plankton, the renowned Paleozoic agent who put together the first oxygen commercial which led to shoreline migration? #RandolphHarris 5 of 21

In every act of rebellion, the rebel simultaneously experiences a feeling of revulsion at the infringement of his rights and a complete and spontaneous loyalty to certain aspects of himself. Thus, he implicitly brings into play a standard of values so far from being gratuitous that he is prepared to support it no matter what the risks. Up to this point he has at least remained silent and has abandoned himself to the form of despair in which a condition is accepted even though it is considered unjust. To remain silent is to give the impression that one has no opinions, that one wants nothing, and in certain cases it really amounts to wanting nothing. Despair, like the absurd, has opinions and desires about everything in general and nothing in particular. Silence expresses this attitude very well. However, from the moment that the rebel finds his voice—even though he says nothing but “no”—he begins to desire and to judge. The rebel, in the etymological sense, does a complete turnabout. He acted under the lash of his master’s whip. Suddenly he turns and faces him. He opposes what is preferable to what is not. Not every value entails rebellion, but every act of rebellion tacitly invokes a value. Or is it really a question of values? Awareness, no matter how confused it may be, develops from every act of rebellion: the sudden dazzling perception that there is something in man with which he can identify himself, even if only for a moment. #RandolphHarris 6 of 21

Rebellion can sometimes lead to trouble and incarceration. New prisoners generally remain in the Reception Center for an average of six weeks. After psychological testing, observation, and case worker interviews a decision is made as to the long-term prison. Usually, the counselors are the deciding voice. Sometimes, the government likes to throw the book at drug cases. The prison administration can deal with armed robbers, murderers, and normal criminals but not the defiant, guiltless, long-haired dopers. The guards say armed robbers and murderers have guts. Drug users are cowardly escapists. Each inmate had a file called “The Jacket.” Every unusual action by the prisoner is entered in The Jacket. However, the case worker’s recommendation is the key. I found out about the network of the California prison system, listening to sad vacation discussion about the selection of prisons continually reviewing the escape possibilities. Tehachapi Prison is in the mountains. Fresh air, no smog, new buildings. Too remote for visitors. They send young cons there. There are guns in the towers. It is escape-proof. The California Institute for Men, abbreviated CIM, offers colour TV, a golf course, a swimming pool. No Wall. They will never send you there with a ten-year federal hold. CIM is treatment oriented. They call you mister. #RandolphHarris 7 of 21

San Quentin is the Monte Carlo glamour, pleasures of the flesh, dope prison of the system. Near San Francisco. Plenty of action. Gambling, educational courses, and special visitors from San Francisco. They might 7send you to Quentin, making an example out of you. There is no escape from Quentin. Then there is Folsom Prison. The best joint is Folsom; any experienced confidence man will tell you that. No kids there. You do you time quietly. Then there is Soledad. Dread pit of solitude for the toughest gunsel muscle benders. They call it the “Gladiators’ School.” When you check in there, they issue you a sword and a garbage can lid. A continual fight to prove how tough you are. Homosexual rape of soft kids. Soledad. The name itself sends a chill through every spine. CMC East—California Men’s Colony, San Luis Obispo is the science-fiction prison. Four separate quads, TV monitors. Big brother eyes watch every move. It is called medium security, but do not believe it. Huey Newton was there. Gun towers with sharpshooters guards can kill at a mile range. No one escapes. CMC West—California Men’s, Colony, San Luis Obispo is the old man’s home. They send professional long-term prisoners there. It is a country club for elite confidence men. The best prison in the World. It is an easy escape. No wall. The highway runs nearby. They send only nonviolent prisoners there. #RandolphHarris 8 of 21

They will never send you to CMC West with two dimes hanging round your neck. There is a rule that with a federal hold, they cannot send you to minimum security. The State of California owes the Feds ten years of your life. The Vacaville main line is a mental hospital for violent maniacs. They might send you there to use your psychological training. It is maximum security. No one escapes from there. Then there are the Forestry Camps. That is ideal. You work up in the healthy mountains. There is plenty of dope, no fences, you work along the highway. It is simple to run away. Confidence men jump Forestry Camp all the time but they get caught. They always run back home. They get a Dear John letter from their wives or suspect their wives fooling around, they flip, take off, and hitchhike home. They walk in the door and bang the State Police are waiting. If you escape, the first thing they do is stake out your home. There is no chance they will send you to a Forestry Camp, not with all the time you brough here. They will take no chances with you. The Vacaville Prison is a bawdy sexual paradise for some. The beautiful queens of Vacaville dig the cells with mirrors. Before the salves rebel, they accept all the demands made upon them. Very often, they take orders, without reacting against them, which are far more conducive to insurrection than the one at which he balks. He accepted them patiently, though he may have protested inwardly, but in that he remained silent, he was more concerned with his own immediate interests than as yet aware of his own rights. #RandolphHarris 9 of 21

However, with loss of patience—with impatience—a reaction begins which can extend to everything that he previously accepted, and which is almost always retroactive. They very moment a slave refuses to obey the humiliating orders of his master, he simultaneously rejects the condition of slavery. The act of rebellion carries him far beyond the point he had reached by simply refusing. He exceeds the bounds that he fixed for his antagonist, and now demands to be treated as an equal. What was at first the man’s obstinate resistance now becomes the whole man, who is identified with and summed up in this resistance. The part of himself that he wanted to be respected he proceeds to place above everything else and proclaims it preferable to everything, even to life itself. It becomes for him the supreme good. Having up to now been willing to compromise, the slave suddenly adopts (“because this is how it must be…”) an attitude of All or Nothing. With rebellion, awareness is born. However, we can see that the knowledge gained is, at the same time, of an “all” that is still rather obscure and of a “nothing” that proclaims the possibility of sacrificing the rebel to this “All.” The rebel himself wants to be “all”—to identify himself completely with this good which he has suddenly become aware and by which he wants to be personally recognized and acknowledged—or “nothing”; in other words, to be completely destroyed by the force that dominates him. As a last resort, he is willing to accept the final defeat, which is death, rather than be deprived of the personal sacrament that he would call, for example, freedom. Better to die on one’s feet than to live on one’s knees. #RandolphHarris 10 of 21

Writing as shorthand + for O.K. and – for not-O.K., the convictions read: I + or I – ; You + or You –. The possible assortments of these give the four basic positions from which games and scripts are played, and which program the person so that he has something to say after he says Hello. I + You +. This is the “healthy” position (or in treatment, the “get well” one), the best one for decent living, the position of genuine heroes and princes, and heroines and princesses. People in the other position have more or less frog in them, a losing streak put there by their parents, which will drag them down again and again unless they overcome it; if they are not rescued by a miracle of psychiatric or self-healing, in extreme cases, they will waste themselves. I + You + is what the hippies were trying to tell the policeman when they gave him a flower. However, the I + is genuine or merely a pious hope, and whether the policeman will accept the + or will prefer to be – on this particular scene, is always in doubt. I + You + is something the person either grows into in early life, or must learn by hard labour thereafter; it cannot be attained merely be an act of will. I + You –. I am a prince; you are a frog. This is the “get rid of” position. These are the people who play “Blemish” as a pastime, a game, or a deadly procedure. They are the ones who sneer at their spouses, send their children to juvenile hall, and times war, and sit in groups finding fault with their real or fire their friends and retainers. They start crusades and some-imagined inferiors or enemies. #RandolphHarris 11 of 21

This is the “arrogant” position, at worst a killer’s, and at best a meddler’s for people who make it their business to help the “not-O.K. others” with things they do not want to be helped with. However, for the most part it is a position of mediocrities, and clinically it is paranoid. I – You +. This is psychologically the “depressive” position, politically and socially a self-abasement transmitted to the children. Occupationally, it leads people to live by choice on favours large and small and enjoy it with a vengeance, that being the poor satisfaction of making the other pay as much as possible for his O.K. stamp. These are melancholic suicides, losers who call themselves gamblers, people who get rid of themselves instead of others by isolating themselves in obscure rooming houses or canyons or by getting a ticket to prison or the psychiatric ward. It is the position of the “If Onlys” and “I Should Haves.” I – You –. This is the “futility” position of the Why Notters: Why not kill yourself, Why not go crazy. Clinically, it is schizoid or schizophrenic. These positions are universal among all mankind, because all mankind nurses at his mother’s breast or bottle and gets the message there, and later has it reinforced when he learns his manners, whether in the jungle, the slum, the condominium, or the ancestral halls. #RandolphHarris 12 of 21

Even in the small unlettered communities which anthropologists study for their “cultures,” where everyone is raised according to the same long-established rules, there are enough individual differences between mothers (and fathers) to yield the standard harvest. For winners, there are chiefs and medicine men, captains and capitalist who own a thousand head of cattle or are worth a hundred thousand yams. The losers can be found in the mental hospital at Papeete or Port Moresby or Dakar, or perhaps in Her Majesty’s Gaol at Suva. For each position already carries with it is own kind of script and its own kinds of endings. Even in this country, where there are ten thousand “cultures,” there are only a few endings, none different, really, from any other country’s. Because each person is the product of a million different moments, a thousand states of mind, a hundred adventures, and usually two different parents, a thorough investigation of his position will reveal many complexities and apparent contradictions. Nevertheless, there can usually be detected one basic position, sincere or insincere, inflexible or insecure, on which his life is staked, and from which he plays out his games and script. This is necessary so that he can feel that he has both feet on solid ground, and he will be as loath to give it up as he would the foundation of his house. #RandolphHarris 13 of 21

To take one simple example, a woman who thinks it very important that she is poor while others are rich (I — They +) will not give this up merely because she acquires a lot of money. That does not make her rich in her own estimation; it merely makes her a poor person who happens to have some assets. Her classmate who thinks it is important to be rich, in contrast to the underprivileged poor (I + They -) will not abandon her position if she loses her money; this does not make her a poor person, but merely a rich person who is temporarily embarrassed financially. This tenacity, as we shall see later, accounts for the life led by Cinderella after she married her prince, and it also accounts for the fact that men in the first position (I + You +) make good leaders, for even in the utmost adversity they maintain their universal respect for themselves and those in their charge. Thus, the four basic positions, I + You + (success); I + You – (arrogant); I — You + (depressive); and I – You – (futility), can rarely be changed by external circumstances alone. Stable changes must come from within, either spontaneously or under some sort of “therapeutic” influence: professional treatment, or love, which is nature’s psychotherapy. However, there are those whose convictions lack convictions, so that they have options and alternations between one position and another; from I + You + to I — You —, or from I + You — to I — You +, for example. These are, as far as position is concerned, insecure or unstable personalities. #RandolphHarris 14 of 21

Secure or stable ones are those whose positions, good or deplorable, cannot be shaken. In order for the idea of positions to be of any practical use, it must not be defeated by the changes and instabilities of the insecure. The transactional approach—finding out what was actually said and done at a certain moment—takes care of that. If A behaves at noon as though he were in the first position (I + You +), then we say that “A is in the first position.” If he behaves at 6.00pm as though he were in the third position (I – You +), then we say “In the noon setup A is in the first position under 6pm circumstances he is in the third.” From this we can conclude that A is insecure in the first position, and that if he has symptoms, they occur under special conditions. If he behaves under all circumstances as through he were in the first position, then we say that “A is stable in the first position,” from which we predict that A is a winner, that if he has been in treatment, he is now cured, and that he is game free, or at least that he is not under compulsion to play games, but has social control—the option of deciding for himself at each moment whether or not he wants to play. If B behaves under all circumstances as though he were in the fourth position, we say that “B is stable in the fourth position” from which we predict that B is a loser, that it will be difficult to cure him, and that he will be unable to stop himself from playing those games which prove that life is futile. All this is done by careful analysis of actual transactions engaged by A and B. #RandolphHarris 15 of 21

Once the predictions are made, they are easily tested by more observation. If later behaviour does not confirm them, then either the analysis was faulty or the theory of position is wrong and will have to be changed. If it does confirm the predictions, then the theory is strengthened. The evidence so far supports it. Reality is what we take to be real. This, in turn, is powerfully influenced by what significant other people have told us is true, real, and important in the World. We are continuously told by newspapers, comics, friends, and family members, movies and television programs about the way things are. Sometimes this influence is subtle; someone merely describes some aspect of the World to us, and we find that this description impels us to see that World as we were told it is. One teacher played a classroom game; she asked the children to pretend that blonde, blue-eyed children were evil. In time, the black-haired children came to loathe the blondes, who in turn felt inferior. Other people, then, can so influence one’s ways of perceiving, and of attaching meaning and value, that one loses one’s own autonomous perspective. If other people are strong, with high status, they may invalidate one’s own perspective on reality; the weaker person accepts the perspective of the stronger. #RandolphHarris 16 of 21

For example, when high school seniors in the minority are confronted by perceptions or judgments from a majority identified as college students, the high schoolers conform to the perceptions of the higher status college student. A person may need to disengage from other people and go into solitude, in order to separate other people’s perspectives on reality from one that is more truly individual. An excessive humility or a morbid self-depreciation may present a man from seeking outside help. This too is a manifestation of the ego, which cunningly uses such emotion to keep him away from a contract which threatens its rule. This quality of a continuous calmness—so highly prized by self-actualized Christians—is hard to come by but exceedingly precious when gained. He who possesses it, who is unfailingly one and the same not only toward others but also toward himself, becomes a rock of upholding strength in their crises, an oasis of hidden comfort in his own. This beautiful serenity makes many other qualities possible in his own development while leaving a benedictory afterglow of encouragement with all those who are still struggling with their own refractory emotions and passions. Emotion is an unreliable adviser but refined, purified, and liberated from egotism, it becomes transformed into intuition. As all worries and fears are aroused in the ego, they are lulled when, by meditation, the ego-thought is lulled and the mediator feels peace. However, when the ego is rooted out by the entire philosophic effort, they are then rooted out, too. #RandolphHarris 17 of 21

The Sacramento Fire Department educates and prepares Sacramento County residents and visitors for all emergencies, through public education, community outreach, and training. “It was a hot summer night. I had to work the day tour the following morning, and the phone rang just as I was getting into bed. A friend called me and told me to turn on the radio. Two firefighters had been killed in a fire, and the names weren’t released pending notifications. I called my own firehouse, where the grapevine had carried the news. I found out who they were. I drove down to the bar, then. It was early morning, an hour or so past midnight. I was thinking of X’s children. He had eight of them, and was known as a great father. Y, one of the partners, was there. He was crying, and put his arms around me, connecting, I guess, to the brotherhood of the job. We decided to drive up to the firehouse. There were guys off duty there, he knew, and they would appreciate the company. It was a classy thing, I thought. We went up to the top floor of Rescue A. Z was there, and a bunch of firefighters who had driven in as soon as they heard the news. Z told us they had been on the roof of a five-story tenement. A young firefighter who had been working on the top floor, the fifth, had been separated from his boss, a lieutenant who happened to be B, my friend and one of the most decorated men in the department. A back room was lit up completely, and C was caught. He was at a windowsill, yelling, and Rescue A heard him. The fire was lapping up the side of the building, licking over the rooftop. D tied his own small, forty-foot, personal rope to a pipe, attached it to his safety harness, and went over the rooftop. #RandolphHarris 18 of 21

“He knew there was not much he could do, because the personal role could not take the weight of two men. The manuals said it was to be used for escape purposes only, and in extreme emergencies. But D just wanted to be with C. X stepped right up, and he went over the roof, six stories above the solid concrete of the backyard below. Z was looking down over the roof parapet. They lowered him down to where D and C were now framed by the fire. ‘I have him,” X said to D. C held fast around X’s neck, and they both became one, a kind of pendulum escaping the fire. Then something happened, no one knew what. It was an imperfect rope. It just snapped, and X and C fell. It was hard for D to tell the story, we all knew, but we also knew that it was all in the family. It was the straight stuff, because there’s no point in holding back from the family. After having some Lipton’s ice tea, the men were relaxed a little. There was not much for any of us to do. Rescue A would have to prepare for the funeral, and all those official investigations and reports. But now the men just wanted to regain their breath. Z and I worked for a long time with a man named F, who had been promoted out of Engine G, and who was a good friend of X. Z suggested I call him, rather than have him hear the news in the morning from a radio, the Internet, or TV reporter. I went to the phone to dial his number, and it then struck me. What if he’s not home? What would his wife H think about a phone call at three in the morning? What momentary pain would that cause? I wanted to hang up as the phone was answered. I heard her voice, and the first thing I said was “This has nothing to do with F.” It turns out he was working that night as a covering officer, and had listened to the alarms as they came over the department radio. #RandolphHarris 19 of 21

“Then I thought, who was going to ring the bell of X’s house this sad night? And, what extraordinary pain would the ringing of that bell bring to so many people?” The Sacramento Fire Department provide fire protection, rescue, and medical services to the community. They also ensure the safety and well-being of residents through their dedicated efforts. You can help save lives by donating to the Sacramento Fire Department. The Spirit of America is often found in a deep sense of patriotism, where people show enduring loyalty to their country and their fellow citizens. This love for one’s country goes beyond just celebrating national holidays; it is seen in how people treat each other and work for the community every day. Please raise your children to love America. When patriotic feelings are genuine and inclusive, they can transcend individual interests and foster a collective identity. It is also important to teach your children to love God and Jesus Christ. American almost universally view God as a loving parent. The desire to emulate God’s love moderates religious disagreements among the great majority of Americans. Also, buying a car is a huge expense, so it makes sense to support America and buy a car made in this county. Luckily, there are plenty of American cars worth buying, whether you are looking for something reliable for your small family, a truck to haul your trailer, or a sports car. Furthermore, as patriotic Americans, everyone must make a commitment to respect laws, legal authorities, legal signage and signals, and courts. Imagine if everyone in your community decided that they did not want to be bothered by traffic laws and signals, for example. The streets in your community would quickly become a chaotic and less safe place. #RandolphHarris 20 of 21

The young should honour their elders as “superiors in age and gifts. Contrary to the way of the World, we put a premium on age, not youth. We value the wisdom that comes from life experience. Seniors should strive to be worthy of such honour, walking in faith, love, and wisdom. And youth should remember to take their education seriously. It will help them achieve financial stability. I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic, for which it stands, one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all. Children need to know that having faith in the Saviour and following Him will help them receive peace in this troubled World. We are grateful for the opportunities we have. Children need to experience the Light of Christ so they can choose light and resist the darkness. There are two kinds of inner peace. The first is somewhat like that which the ancient Stoics cultivated: the result of controlling emotions and disciplining thoughts, the result of will and effort applied to the mastery of self. It brings with it, at best, a contentment with what one has, as least, a resignation to one’s lot. The second is much deeper, for it comes out of God. It is the blessed result of Divine Grace liberating one from the craving for existence. To attain this inner equilibrium, the emotions need to be brought under control. It is not enough to repress them by will alone: they need also to be understood psychologically in a far deeper sense than the academic one. It is not enough to analyse their obvious surface causes and workings: their relationship to the real self at the centre of being must become quite clear. The “I” who experiences them must be sought. #RandolphHarris 21 of 21

The Winchester Mystery House

On occasion, caretakers are left alone in The Winchester Mystery House to close the mansion up. During the summer, it does not bother some of them because as they are closing the windows, they can hear sounds from the street and do not feel alone. However, when the chills of autumn set in, and the windows have to be closed to keep it out, one of the caretakers because gradually aware that he was not really alone on those lonely nights. One particular night, early in his employment at the house, he was alone and heard rapid, firm footsteps starting at the front door, inside the house, and coming through the parlor and the dining room, and finally approaching the room he was in down the hall. He leapt out into the hall, wondering with sheer terror what the intruder would do. However, no one came. More to calm himself than because he really believed it, the caretaker convinced himself that he must have been mistaken about those footsteps. It was probably someone in the street. With reassuring thoughts, he continued to lock up the mansion. The next day, he did not tell anyone about the nocturnal event. After all, he did not want them to think they hired a strange man! However, the footsteps returned, night after night, always at the same time and always stopping abruptly at the morning room. Rather than facing his employers with the allegation that he was working in a haunted house, he bravely decided to face the intruder and find out what this was all about.

One night he deliberately waited for the new familiar brisk footfalls. The clock struck nine, then nine-thirty. In the quiet of the night, he could hear his heart pounding in his chest. Then the footsteps came close, closer and closer, until they got to the entryway of the morning room. At this moment, he snapped on the light, and tore the door wide open. There was nobody there, and no retreating footsteps could be heard. He tried it again and again, but the invisible intruder never showed himself once the door was opened. The winter was bitterly cold, and they were in the habit of having two caretakers close up the house at night. One night the additional caretaker left the basement and said, “Why were you walking around in the freezing basement and didn’t answer when I called out to you?” Of course he had not been down in the basement, and told her as much. Then they discovered that she, too, had heard footsteps, but had thought it was him walking restlessly about the basement. She heard the footsteps whenever she was in the basement, and they would suddenly cease, but no one would be around. Since everything was always securely locked, and countless attempts to trap the ghost had failed, the caretakers shrugged and learned to live with this peculiar boarder. Gradually the steps became part of the atmosphere of the Victorian house, and the terror began to fade into the darkness of night.

Please come and enjoy a delicious meal in Sarah’s Café, stroll along the paths of the beautiful Victorian gardens, and wonder through the miles of hallways in the World’s most mysterious mansion. For further information about tours, including group tours, weddings, school events, birthday party packages, facility rentals, and special events please visit the website: https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/

Please visit the online giftshop, and purchase a gift for friends and relatives as well as a special memento of The Winchester Mystery House. A variety of souvenirs and gifts are available to purchase. https://shopwinchestermysteryhouse.com/

The Devil Had Had Connection with them

“Yes, there at first, and then…” I waved my hand nonchalantly around the room,” here, there…several placed, actually.” Mr. Hansen straightened up, “Has she ever spoken? Have you ever tried to speak to her, Mrs. Winchester?” I frowned. “My dear boy, I do not make a habit of conducting conversations with ghosts. I consider just seeing the wretched thing queer enough.” Twitching my shoulders in a shiver. “I was sitting in the library in one of the big windows that had been opened to the night air. Suddenly my peaceful evening was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. I turned my head toward the door to see who was coming. However, no form was visible. The footsteps, however, came to the doors of the library, and ceased abruptly. Mystified, I waited for the someone to enter the room. Nothing happened. “Who’s there?” I asked. There was complete silence. Half-angry and half-puzzled, I got up to look around. There was no one in the dark hallway. I heard those footsteps plainly, but did not see a soul. Perhaps there was a secret entrance that I did not know about. There has to be some place where they can hide. These walls are deep enough to contain a secret passageway. When I returned to the library, I saw a girl in this room, although she was only a haze sort of form at first, not clear at all. Definitely a girl though, in her early twenties, I would say. I say her—it—again a few days—no, not days: nights—later, much clearer this time, almost as if her presence was growing in strength. I must admit, I felt quite weak at the sight of her.” #RandolphHarris 1 of 7

“That sometimes happens,” Mr. Hansen replied. “Manifestations of this kind seem to draw off psychic energy from their witnesses, using it to sap energy from the atmosphere, too—that’s why the temperature of a room may suddenly drop. Their presence has even been known to affect electricity.” “Extraordinary. However, you really are speaking of ghosts, Mr. Hansen.” “No, I’m still talking about unexplained phenomena. Please go with what you were telling me.” I began to pace. “I felt there was something terribly sad about this ‘presence’… as though she were searching, or perhaps just lost…my housemaid Eleanor also had an encounter. Is that not right, my darling?” “Yes, Mrs. Winchester I most certainly did,” replied Eleanor. “I came face-to-face with the phantom lady in the library.” “I’d be interested to hear,” said Mr. Hansen as he smiled at the question, not in the least perturbed. “The library is cold and rather unpleasant,” responded. “A girl. I’ve seen her lurking or hovering or whatever these bloody things do on several occasions. That first time, I’d come down for a book and there she was, over there watching me.” She pointed and shuddered as if for emphasis. “The sight made my blood run cold, I can tell you.” “Does she look like anyone you know? Have known?” “Of course not. In fact, that’s the horrible part of this affair.” Her features contorted in disgust. “There was something wrong with her face, her figure…something awful. She appeared…I don’t know—malformed. The eyes were lifeless, and lustreless, and seemingly pupilless, and I shrank involuntarily from their glassy stare to the contemplation of the thin and shrunken lips. They parted; and in a smile of peculiar meaning, the teeth disclosed themselves slowly to my view. #RandolphHarris 2 of 7

“The white ghastly spectrum of teeth. Not a speck on their surface—not a shade of their enamel—not an indenture in their edges—but what that brief period of her smile had sufficed to brand in upon my memory. I saw them now even more unequivocally than I beheld them then. The teeth!—the teeth!—they were here, and there, and everywhere, and visibly and palpably before me; long, narrow, and excessively white, with the pale lips writhing about them, as in the very moment of their first terrible development. Then came the full fury of my monomania, and I struggled in vain against it. I felt her possession and thought I could never be restored to peace, given back reason. And the evening closed in upon me thus—and then the darkness came, and tarried, and went—and the day again dawned—and the mists of a second night were now gathering around—and still I sat motionless in this solitary room—and I still I sat buried in meditation—and still the phantasma made its terrible ascendancy, as, with the most vivid and hideous distinctness, it floated about amid the changing lights and shadows of the chamber. At length there broke in upon my dreams a cry of horror and dismay; and thereunto, after a pause, succeeded the sound of troubled voices, intermingled with many low moanings of sorrow and pain. #RandolphHarris 3 of 7

“I arose from my seat, and throwing open one of the doors of the library, fell to the floor. I’m usually able to see through the outward layer of ugliness that so many things have, and perceive the beauty within, but it was impossible. I’ve had to clean up blood in the kitchen. I was told not to ask questions because it was safer I didn’t know anything. So I didn’t ask.” Mr. Hansen looked up from the typewriter with his reading glasses balanced precariously on the end of his nose. His face was anxious. His hand suddenly shook as with ague, as with terror. Her calamity, indeed, gave me pain, and, taking deeply to heart, staringly changes were wrought in my mind. During the brightest days of unparalleled beauty, there were no towers in the land more time-honoured than those of Llanada Villa. Our line had been called a race of visionaries; and in many striking particulars—in the character of the family mansion—in the frescos of the chief saloon—in the tapestries of the dormitories—in the chiseling of some buttresses in the armory—but more especially in the gallery of antique paintings—in the fashion of the library chamber—and, lastly, in the very peculiar nature of the library’s contents—there is more than sufficient evidence to warrant the belief. I did not fail to ponder, frequently and bitterly, upon the wonder-working means by which so strange a revolution had been so suddenly brought to pass. And now—now I shudder in her presence, and grew pale at her recital. #RandolphHarris 4 of 7

An icy chill ran through my frame; a sense of insufferable anxiety oppressed me; a consuming curiosity pervaded my soul; and, sinking back upon the chair, I remained for some time breathless and motionless, with my eyes riveted upon her person. After some time, I found myself alone in the library. I knew that it was now midnight, and I was well aware, that my home was replete with horror—horror more horrible from being vague, and terror more terrible from ambiguity. It was a fearful page in the record of my existence, written all over with dim, and hideous, intelligent recollections. And like the spirit of a departed soul, a shrill and piercing female voice seemed to be ringing in my ear among the whispering echoes of the chamber. I knew this was not in the physical dimension and I had to learn how past events served as a blueprint for the psychic atmosphere that made such phenomena possible. The following day, I was winding up an important meeting. Mr. Hansen walked in the room. “Mrs. Winchester,” he said excitedly. “Do you care if I break a window?” “Where?” I demanded. “What for?” There’s a window painted black down in the basement at the back of the house. I’ve finally found about a thirteen-foot discrepancy in my measurements between the outside and the inside of the basement. I’ll have to break the window to see what’s behind it. I’ll pay for putting the glass back.” #RandolphHarris 5 of 7

“Wait for me!” I ordered. “I will be out in a few moments.” We went down into the basement where Mr. Hansen showed me a sketch he had made to scale and pointed to the stained-glass window with a cobweb pattern and thirteen colourful orbs. From the basement floor it could only be reached by ladder, but it was only a little above ground level from the outside of the house. “I’ve got to see what’s behind it!” “What is so interesting about that? Can you not just remove it from the outside?” “I don’t want to,” he replied impatiently. “The outside wall of the house runs in a straight line but down here the basement is all cut up into these rooms. There’s about a thirteen-foot space from that window to the outside wall or my figures are off—and they can’t be!” He pulled a ladder up to the window and climbed up with a hammer in hand. I stepped out of range of falling glass as he smashed one of my most precious designs, then, working with gloves, removed the remaining pieces from the frame. He turned his lantern into the aperture and gave a sharp whistle. “Hey!” he yelled. “You’ve got to see this! You won’t believe it!” He scrambled down the ladder and handed me the lantern. Then he waited in obvious excitement for me to climb up.” #RandolphHarris 6 of 7

“Do you see that room?” he shouted. “Look across at that other window!” I saw it. The room looked like a vaulted crypt. It was small and unfurnished although what looked like an old altar cloth and books in the corner. Just opposite the window Mr. Hansen had broken was an identical one and this is what we had noticed from the outside of the house. It was, likewise, a stained-glass window with a spider web pattern and thirteen colourful orbs, and was a twin in its dimension of the one in the basement wall. This was the most careful job of camouflaging a secret room that one could imagine. Mr. Hansen’s excitement was contagious. Minutes later we both climbed down into the secret room. Care examination proved that there were no other windows and no other way of getting into the room. If there had been a door, it was certainly sealed over with concrete. The entire room was brick lined. There must have been a trap door in the kitchen floor above to the hiding place. However, a new floor had been laid, sealing it off completely. We left the room the way we found it. Eleanor had been loitering in the kitchen even thought it was now getting dark. “You got a new room, Mrs. Winchester. What good did it do?” Mr. Hansen and I looked at each other with perfect understanding. “No good at all, Eleanor,” I answered. “The room is useless to me. Tomorrow I will have Mr. Hasen seal it back up.” #RandolphHarris 7 of 7

The Winchester Mystery House

After opening the secret room, Mrs. Winchester reported that she moved bodily among unknown entities, reading terrible books. There were horrible annals of other Worlds and other Universes, and of stirrings of formless life inside the mansion. There were records and chronicles of strange orders of beings which had people the World and frightful grotesque-bodied intelligence which people the World billions of years before the first human being. Many mornings afterward, she awakened in a fever and shivering at the mysteries her home concealed; trembling at the menaces the future would bring forth. She wrote endlessly of the hauntings that took place in Llanada Villa. However, these records, written on great sheets of a curiously tenacious cellulose fabric, were bound in leather, and sold at auction with all her belongings. Now, her history is store in vaults of someone’s private collection.

Please come and enjoy a delicious meal in Sarah’s Café, stroll along the paths of the beautiful Victorian gardens, and wonder through the miles of hallways in the World’s most mysterious mansion. For further information about tours, including group tours, weddings, school events, birthday party packages, facility rentals, and special events please visit the website: https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/

Please visit the online giftshop, and purchase a gift for friends and relatives as well as a special memento of The Winchester Mystery House. A variety of souvenirs and gifts are available to purchase. https://shopwinchestermysteryhouse.com/
There isn’t a Soul in Here

I was returning home late one stormy night. The loud claps of thunder rattled among the house. The lighting quivered about the pinnacles of Llanada Villa, and shed flickering gleams over roof top. There was an evil influence hanging over me; an evil genius or spirit seeking to ensnare me and ensure my perdition. One afternoon I was lying down on the bed with a book trying to rest. Before long I was asleep. Suddenly, I awoke with a feeling of horror that seemed to start at my feet and gradually work its way up throughout my entire body and mind. The room seemed to be permeated with something terribly evil. I could neither see nor hear anything, but I had the feeling that there was a presence there and that it was very strong and about to overcome me. A succession of vivid flashes of lightning revealed it more distinctly. The scenes of blood which followed shocked my sensitive nature, disgusted me with society and the World, and I shut myself up in a Llanada Villa where I pursed my favour speculations. Sometimes I spent hours in my great library, the catacombs of departed authors, in quest of knowledge. I have seen ghosts a few times. In various parts of the house. And in the garden by the Cupid fountain. #RandolphHarris 1 of 7

These apparitions are the desolate souls of those unfortunates who have left their Earthly bodies in traumatic, or perhaps even tragic circumstances. Something must have created a power vortex—the whirlwind of negative and terrible emotions that act now as a magnet for unseen entities. Maybe there are more of them than I realize. The following morning, the housemaid laid my plate before me (scrambled eggs, bacon, and mushrooms). As I sat, casting my eyes down at my own half-eaten breakfast, I contemplated the situation. In the past, I was inclined to believe the someone had been smitten with the worth of a wealth widow; or rather a marauding Tarquin, had stolen into my home to violate my purse, and rifle my strong box, when all the house should be asleep. However, now I am prepared to believe that emotions of certain distressed people can be so strong at the moment of death, whether through pain, unhappiness, or shock, that an impression is left behind. An after image that can take years, maybe centuries, to fade completely. In any event, after breakfast, I went to the library. There was a fire burning in the massive stone fireplace. As one can imagine, the crack and spark of the aromatic logs, as well as the heat itself, were very welcome. I placed myself beside the hearth and relaxed into the delicious heat. #RandolphHarris 2 of 7

When I was sufficiently warmed, I made my way through the ground floor rooms without finding a living soul. Curiously, I had not dismissed the servants. I discovered a mincemeat pie on the kitchen table, and on the massive gas stove a teakettle blackened now because someone had left the flame on while all the water had evaporated. I turned offed the fire and almost seared my palm lifting the kettle to a cool spot. Now I was truly terrified. I heard it. The sound echoing eerily in the bowels of the house. Something was coming out of the shadows. The sound of its movements sent shock waves and terror running through me. I turned and ran from the room. “Oh, God,” I cried in despair, “what is going to happen to me?” There was nobody to protect me, nobody to save me. I flew down the hall and hurtled to the front door. It would not open no matter how hard I pulled and pushed. I ran into the parlour, ripped aside the heavy drapes and tried to open the window. It would not budge. I looked at the storm-swept night outside and found even that preferable to remaining in my home. In a fit of rage, I picked up a chair and threw in at the window, gasping in astonishment as the chair bounced off the pain of glass. I could not run away. #RandolphHarris 3 of 7

Within dreams I seemed gradually to acquire a greater and greater freedom of wandering. I floated through many rooms in Llanada Villa, going through secret passages. Sometimes I encountered those sealed trap-doors in the lowest level, around which such an aura of fear and forbiddingness clung. The next morning, as I was in the library, I looked up from my book and saw a shadow on the frosted glass of the door. When I rushed out into the hallways only to see the door across the hall closing, imagine my irritation. I walked over there, intending to knock, and find out who was in the room, but I saw a shadow withing the room, bent over a table. For some reason this stopped me, and I returned to the library. The next day the same thing happened. Then the day after that. I then refused to leave my desk. I would not chase a shadow; he would not use me in such a fashion. I soon discovered that when I did not go to the door, the shadow remained in my frosted glass all day long. He was standing outside my door all day long, every day. Once there were two shadows. That brought me to my feet immediately. However, when I snatched the door open, I discovered two housemaids busy shining chandeliers, polishing floors and furniture. Of course, after the two housemaids had left, the single shadow was back again. It was there until five. #RandolphHarris 4 of 7

I am not usually given to emotion. However, the next day I lost my temper. I saw the shadow before the library door and in a fit of rage, I order him away from the door at the top of my voice. When three hours had passed and he still had not left, I began to weep. I pleaded with him. However, he was still there. I opened the door and went across the hall and was startled at what I found. Shadows moved intelligently around the room, getting books from shelves and taking them to great tables, or vice versa, and sometimes writing diligently with a peculiar rod gripped in their hands. Afterwards, I saw them everywhere through the mansion; swarming in all the great chambers and corridors; racing along the vast miles of hallways. I ceased to be afraid of them, for they seemed to form supremely natural parts of the house. Individual differences amongst them began to manifest, and a few appeared to be under some kind of restraint. Hours passed, and night fell. I stopped by a covered form, and pulled back a canvas tarpaulin. “This is my butler,” I said. His body had been dismembered. I looked at the left hand first, saw the thumb and two remaining fingers. His face, empty and expressionless. #RandolphHarris 5 of 7

As for the other pieces—the torso, still joined to the upper right arm and thighs, the right forearm and hand, and the two disjointed feet and lower legs—I was not sure. Then he vanished before my eyes. Shortly after this incident, many of the servants began hearing the door-to-nowhere open by itself and close again. This was immediately followed by footsteps of someone walking through the hall. At first, they would get up to see who it was, but there was never anyone to be seen. Gradually, we realized that these were not the footsteps of a living person. The visitor would come at various times of the day or evening, and then stay away for several months. Then it would all resume. We became used to these sounds, and hardly looked up when they became audible. One day the steps continued and then we could clearly hear someone sit down in the baroque chair in the morning room! This did not bother me, but it bothered some of the servants who held less broadminded views of ghosts. However, it soon because apparent to everyone that the footsteps were not always the same: sometimes they were soft and light, as if made by a young person, while at other times they were heavy, almost clumsy steps of a big man. #RandolphHarris 6 of 7

On January 16, 1892, two servants were in different parts of the mansion busy with their chores. Independently of each other, the two women saw the same figure of a man suddenly appear out of nowhere. At first, the Parlour maid saw him. He was a big man, about six feet in height, and heavy-set, dressed in black, and where his face should have been was just a black mass. However, unmistakably this was a human figure. A few moments later, he appeared to a Kitchen maid. She looked at him, and could see right through him into the other room! The women both had the impression that the man was looking at them. As he disappeared toward the rear of the house, they realized they had not heard a single sound. Since the appearance of the man in black, the footsteps were not heard again, but the door kept opening and closing as before. This too must by no means be passed over that certain servants being seduced by the illusions and phantasmal shows of demons firmly believe and openly profess that in the dead of the night, Satan assumes the shape of a man. Satan, in the form of a tall, dark man conveyed thither, and most often leaves the house by way of the chimney. #RandolphHarris 7 of 7

The Winchester Mystery House

The house had been vacant for many months, but people could not help visiting it, even though it was locked. They would go up to the front steps and peer in the windows. So many people were strangely attacked to the beautiful but bizarre Victorian house. Some say they were “called” by the house as if someone inside were beckoning to them. Over the months after the death of Mrs. Winchester, strangers who had passed by the house would speak of strange tales of music emanating from the empty house. Definite tunes, song after song played by skilled hands. Eventually the house taken possession of by the Winchester Repeating Arms Company. However, Mrs. Winchester’s niece, Daisy, doubted that Mrs. Winchester would move out just because the house changed hands. She felt her presence, very much alive and wholly content to live in the house. In February of 1923, a stranger went to The Winchester Mansion and rang the doorbell. When the door opened and lights appeared, he claims that he had an opportunity of contemplating Mrs. Winchester, and was more than ever intoxicated by her beauty. Her face was pale, but of a dazzling fairness, set off by a profusion of raven hair that hung clustering about it. Her eyes were large and brilliant. As far as her black dress permitted her shape to be seen, it was of perfect symmetry. Her whole appearance was highly striking, though she was dressed in the simplest style.

The only thing approaching to an ornament which she wore, was a board black band round her neck, clasped by diamonds. He spoke to her, but received no reply. He advanced to greet her. On taking her hand, it was cold—there was no pulsation. Horrified and frantic, a scene of confusion ensued. The police were summoned. Because the house had been vacant for months, they are armed with guns. Once in the foyer, they switched on the lights. As they looked around, they saw no one. The police finally went back to where the man was standing, looking dejectedly at him. “There isn’t a soul in here,” they told him flatly. They tried to soothe him, but in vain. He was possessed with the frightful belief that an evil spirit had reanimated Mrs. Winchester’s body to ensnare him. He went distracted, and died in a mad-house. This was a fact not to be doubted. The best authority said that saw him in The Great Asylum for the Insane. Perhaps he saw a manifestation of some kind. A visual representation of Mrs. Winchester still lingering. With a house this old, it would be a little unusual is there was not a skeleton or two lurking in a cupboard somewhere.

Please come and enjoy a delicious meal in Sarah’s Café, stroll along the paths of the beautiful Victorian gardens, and wonder through the miles of hallways in the World’s most mysterious mansion. For further information about tours, including group tours, weddings, school events, birthday party packages, facility rentals, and special events please visit the website: https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/

Please visit the online giftshop, and purchase a gift for friends and relatives as well as a special memento of The Winchester Mystery House. A variety of souvenirs and gifts are available to purchase. https://shopwinchestermysteryhouse.com/
The Property is a Most Desirable Residence

Sometimes certain things happen in Victorian houses that are hard to understand. Llanada Villa is one of those places. I am convinced that there is another level of consciousness or activity of some kind that occupies my home. A juxtaposition between entities in physical bodies and those in astral form. When I first purchased the original eighteen room farmhouse, there was the most peculiar thing outside. A large barn, to the south side of the house, and a stone in front of it that looked not quite natural. Upon close inspection, I wondered whether perhaps it was not an Indian tombstone, or perhaps an Indian altar of sorts. It looked far too regular to be completely shaped by nature. The original owner had no idea how it got into the garden, nor did he know anything particular about the history of the barn. All he knew was that the barn was old. Inside there was a passageway, or cave, tunnel, call it what you will, leading from one of the stables out to another part of the estate. It was shored up by four-by-fours on the side, but with very thing boards on the top; and dirt and water was trickling down these broken boards at the top. The tunnel was about seven feet tall. It was quite tall. I heard some noises and was afraid to have anyone go in. After I purchased the property and started to expand my estate, I simply had the carpenters fill it in and raze the barn. #RandolphHarris 1 of 7

It was now long after nightfall, my home with lit with a wan glimmer having no point of diffusion, for in its mysterious lamination nothing cast a shadow. A strange sensation began slowly to take possession of my body and mind. However, I felt rather conscious with a mysterious mental assurance of some overpowering presence, while some supernatural malevolence swarmed about me. A shallow pool on the floor reflected in the light, as from a spill, met my eye with a crimson gleam. I dipped my fingers into it. It stained them; it was blood! Blood, I then observed, was about me everywhere. Defiling the walls and were broad maculations of crimson, and blood dripped like dew from them. All of this I observed with terror. It seemed to me that it was all in expiation of some crime. To the menaces and mysteries of my surroundings the consciousness was an added horror. So frightful was the situation—the mysterious light burned with so silent and awful a menace. From overhead and all about came so audible and startling whispers and the sighs of creatures so obviously not of Earth—that I could endure it any longer, and with a great effort to break some malign spell that bound my faculties to silence and inaction, I screamed. My voice broke into echoes and fluttered away into the distant reaches of the labyrinth, then died into silence, and all was as before. This place becomes more queer at night. Often, I must persuade myself out of the notion that eyes are watching me. #RandolphHarris 2 of 7

After that time, I often knew things before they really happened—such as who would be at the door before the butler answered it, or just before the telephone rang, who would be calling. From the very first night I moved into Llanada Villa, I felt right at home in it, as if I had always lived here. Even during expansion, if before me unknown horror or behind me, with heavy tread, something moved relentlessly upon me, driving me on and down; I found it easy to move along the stairs, and in the dark without the slightest accident or need to orient myself. It was almost as if the house, or someone in it, were guiding my steps. I was always acutely aware that the house was alive: There were strange noises and creaking boards, but there were also human footsteps, and there were those doors. The doors, in particular, puzzled me. The first time I noticed anything unusual about the doors in the house was when I was reading a book late one night. Suddenly, I heard footsteps on the ceiling above my bedroom. Then the door of the stairwell opened, steps reverberated on the stairs, then the door-to-nowhere opened, and a blast of cold air hit me. I looked up, and there was no one there. Annoyed, I rose and went to check the servant’s quarters. They were indeed fast asleep. Not satisfied and thinking that one of them must be playing tricks on me, I woke them one by one and questioned them. However, they had trouble waking up, and it was evident to me that I was on a fool’s errand; the servants had not been down those stairs. #RandolphHarris 3 of 7

That was the beginning of a long succession of incidents involving the doors in the house. Occasionally, I would watch with fascination when a door opened quite by itself, without any logical cause, such as wind or draft; or to see a door for me just open as I was about to reach for the doorknob! At least, for now, whatever presence there was in the house was polite: It opened the door to a lady! However reassuring it was, it could also be frightening. One evening, I was reading in the library, and an intolerable discomfort overcame me. Through the thudding of my heart, I heard the stealthy footsteps of someone echoing in the distance. Then there was a sound behind one of the bookshelves that sounded like somebody suffering—making all kinds of noises. It hurled me into sufferings almost more than I could bared. I got up and started pulling books away from the shelves and that is when I discovered a panel. It was wide enough to be a passage, and the passageway itself was blocked with a piece of concrete; maybe thirty inches wide and forty inches long. Standing for a moment listening, I could hear a faint sound like a stumble from within. Although I was filled with curiosity to find out what was beyond the wall, it did not match the desire to tear the wall apart. I slipped noisily out of the library and flattened myself against the closed door. As the grandfather clock tick-tocked in a hollow monotone, I knew that somewhere in the thick darkness there was an apparition. #RandolphHarris 4 of 7

For a time, which seemed so long that the World grew gray with age and sin, and my haunted mansion, having fulfilled its purpose in this monstrous culmination of its terrors, vanished out of my consciousness with all its sighs and sounds, the apparition stood within a pace, regarding me with the mindless malevolence of a wild brute; then thrust its hands forward and sprang upon me with appalling ferocity! The manifestation released my physical energies without unfettering my will; my mind was spellbound, but my body powerful and limbs agile. For an instant, I saw this unnatural contest between a dead intelligence and a breathing mechanism only as a spectator—such fancies are in dreams; then I regained my identity almost as if by a leap forward into my body, and the straining automaton had a directing will as alert and fierce as that of its hideous antagonist. However, what moral can cope with a demon? Despite my strength and activity, which seemed wasted in a void, I felt the cold fingers close upon my throat. Borne backward against the floor, I saw above me the dead and drawn face within a hand’s breadth of my own, and then all was black. Dazed with agony, I opened my eyes. The silence was stifling. And out of that unbroken silence crept slowly to my significance sharper than any outcry, the clock had stopped ticking. In my mind’s eye I could see the key in the clock door, and then slowly, soundlessly, I began to drift toward the clock. Six paces from it I caught the dim glint of a key in the clock—my eyes were now accustomed to the darkness—and then beneath my foot a board treacherously cried out in the stillness. #RandolphHarris 5 of 7

I stood there, holding my breath and as I stood, I saw the clock door slowly open, and two fingers slid round the edge of it! Lunging, I flung myself on the door. There was a strangled animal cry from within the case, the fingers jerked and vanished, and I banged the door tight and turned the key in the lock. I heard pounding on the stout mahogany door of the case as I ran to the wall switch and flooded the room with light. Blinking, I started at the tray of trinkets untouched in the window. Then appeared a gentleman, walking alone in the hallway. Thinking he was a servant, I was just about to have a word with him, when he vanished. Suddenly, a coffee cup rose from a side-table, nobody being nigh, and flew to the other side of the room, breaking itself against the wall; for my further confirmation, that it was neither the tricks of the wags nor the fancy of a servant, but the mad frolics of witches and demons. The front of the house was so haunted in all the room, that they stood empty for a long time. In the latter part of the autumn of 1887, after retiring to my bedroom about eleven o’clock, I thought I heard a peculiar moaning sound, and someone sobbing as if in great distress of mind. I listened very attentively, and still it continued; so I raised the gas in my bedroom, and then went to the window on the landing, drew the curtain aside, and there on the grass was a very beautiful young girl in a kneeling posture, before a soldier in a general’s uniform, sobbing and clasping her hands together, entreating for a pardon. #RandolphHarris 6 of 7

However, alas, he only waved her away. So much did I feel for the girl that I ran down the stairway that wound down into blackness to the door opening upon the lawn, and begged her to come in and tell me her sorrow. The figures then disappeared gradually, as in a dissolving view. Not in the least nervous did I feel then; went again into my bedroom, took a sheet of writing paper, and wrote down what I had seen. The following evening, a few steps from the living room to the rear section, which was the original portion of the house, a man suddenly appeared, striding towards me, and going in a direction opposite to mine. When first seen he was standing exactly in front of the fireplace which dominated the room. Young and ghastly pale, he was dressed in evening clothes, evidently made by a foreign tailor. Tall and slim, he walked with long measured strides noiselessly. A tall white had covered thickly with black crepe, and an eyeglass, completed the costume of this strange form. The moonbeams from the skylight falling on the corpse-like features revealed a face well known to me, that of a former butler. A housemaid was in the room with me. She stopped abruptly, as if spellbound, then rushing towards the man, she gazed intently and with horror unmistakable on his face, which was now upturned to the Heavens. She indulged in her strange contemplation but for a very few seconds, then with extraordinary and unexpected she ran away with a terrific shriek and tell. However, this woman never have I seen or heard of since, and I could not explain her presence, nor the man’s. A week after this event, I was in my bedroom reading my letters, and it was very, very late. News of the butler’s death reached me. Then suddenly, the door opened, and the butler stood there looking at me reproachfully. But, he had been dead for more than a week. I screamed and went under the covers. A housemaid rushed upstairs to see what was the matter. When she arrived, the door was wide open! #RandolphHarris 7 of 7

The Winchester Mystery House

It is possible that events in The Winchester Mystery House can be charged with such powerful emotion that their traces linger in the setting where they occurred. That may at least be the explanation for the ubiquitous sighting of figures in the Grand Ballroom or gibbets upon which they have been hanged—unless of course popular superstition has attracted presumed ghosts to these localities.

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