We walked through the main portion of the house, and although it was a good layout, something about the house was bothering us. Something intangible. We couldn’t quite pinpoint the source of our disquiet, so were beginning to think that maybe it was just first-time house buying jitters when the realtor suggested that we checkout the partially finished basement.

 

I made it halfway down the stairs and stopped. Down below me were echoes—memories—of energies expended in that house. The energies were hostile, and angry—not with us, after all, the images we were seeing weren’t alive, not in that sense. These were merely echoes of several people who had previously lived in that house. The echoes were of violent arguments and the negativity from these events had completely tainted the basement area and was slowly permeating the entire house.

 

My husband could see the look on my face, and knew there was no way I could live with these echoes. So we made excuses and left as quickly as possibly.

 

We could have “cleaned” the house, but the emotional turmoil wasn’t worth it to us. It was easier to simply continue searching for until we found a house that was either more neutral (no echoes of the previous owners) or more positive (positive echoes from the previous owners).

 

You see, everyone leaves “echoes” of themselves behind on the things they touch and use—this includes the homes (condos, apartments, houses) that they live in, or even the messages that they email or write. Most people’s resonances (or echoes) are gentle, non-invasive and usually easily overlooked, even by sensitives (unless the sensitive is deliberately looking for the echo). However, if extreme emotions are involved (passion, hate, anger, guilt, depression, etc.) then the object, letter, or home takes on those energies and, depending on just how emotional the people were or how long the emotional turmoil lasted, the echoes can be very strong. The stronger the echoes, the longer they may linger. In some instances they can remain for centuries.

 

What we had picked up in that basement was the type of negative echo that could, possibly, last for a dozen or more years. It was very strong and very negative. Sometimes an energy cleansing can eradicate these types of echoes, but sometimes the echoes are so embedded in the home or object that the echoes simply won’t be removed.

 

I’ve had a few occurrences like that. A friend of mine had purchased an antique end table—it was a beautiful piece, with inlays and carvings. However, I couldn’t stand the thing. The energies embedded in the wood were so strong and so persistent that being in the same room with the table actually made me physically ill.

 

She and I tried neutralizing the energies, and we tried to override it with positive energies, but finally she simply gave it away to someone who seemed totally insensitive to the piece’s echoes.

 

Therefore, knowing that our chances of overcoming the echoes in that particular house were not too good, my husband and I decided to keep looking.

 

It was several months later when we drove by a house for sale on a small secluded street. We had gotten lost, and so had driven by the house simply by chance (or so we thought, anyway). We noted the information on the sign and the next day we called our agent.

 

When we walked into the house, we were immediately surrounded by the fragrance of lilacs. “How strange,” I thought, “Lilacs in January.”

 

We continued touring the house amidst the fragrance of lilacs and I realized that this was no echo. This time the previous owner was still attached to the house. Sometimes those who die suddenly refuse to accept that they’re dead, and sometimes they refuse to let go of those physical plane objects that mean so much to them.

 

Most of them don’t remain very long because eventually they do realize that they’re dead, and maintaining a presence in a world where you no longer belong is hard to do. So, eventually they have to let go. However, the previous owner had only been dead a few months (it was her middle-aged son who was selling the house), and she had had the house built to her precise specifications (so her son was proud to tell us). That meant, to me, that she had a lot of herself invested in this house, and she was watching out for it.

 

When we had seen every room, and after I had fallen in love with the house, we turned to leave. Everyone had gone out the door, but I lingered a moment, still smelling the scent of lilacs drifting through the house. Turning towards the living room, I whispered, “Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of your house.”

 

A gentle breeze wafted out of nowhere and stirred my curls. Like a caress it touched me, and I knew that the woman who had owned the home had heard me.

 

We bought the house and moved in making very few changes, because the paint colors and carpeting all suited us fine. But she came several more times after we moved in—just to see if I was keeping my word, I think. Then she simply stopped coming by. After all, we had taken good care of her house. And I think that once she realized that we loved the house almost as much as she had, she let us be.