Actions with Spirits: The Power of Walt

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I’m not a believer in the power of prayer. At its best it strikes me as well-meaning but credulous supplication of the “This may not help but it can’t hurt” variety, and at its worst it comes across as a banal expression of mock-solemn tribute mumbled by dutiful sympathizers, usually after some tragedy occurs. (Politicians are particularly fond of being seen making this empty gesture.) Invocation, on the other hand, has real possibilities. Although it was not uncommon in primitive cultures to believe that benevolent spirits (particularly ancestors) have an abiding interest in helping the living, this no longer seems to be widely assumed outside of certain religions. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t agreeable to being “called” through the extension of appropriate courtesies.

My father, Walter, passed away several years ago, and I’ve never felt his spirit hanging around or even dreamed about him much. (He’s probably afraid one of his nine kids will continue to haunt him, so he stays away). But my memories of him have always been affectionate, as he was one of the most kind-hearted people I’ve ever known. At one point after retirement in the ’90s, he worked as a caretaker on the property of another old veteran. When that individual died, his widow gave my father a 1980s-vintage, 2-cycle leaf blower, and since he didn’t need it he gave it to me. When the thing is running, it’s a workhorse even now; but it can be very ornery about starting and requires dozens of pulls on the recoil rope accompanied by much grunting, panting and swearing.

Yesterday I spent twenty minutes trying to get it started, to no avail. While resting from my prodigious labors, I began thinking about where the blower came from. I got the whimsical notion that I might entreat its previous owner to intervene on the astral level (yeah, I know, spirits have better things to do than come running when summoned, but I figured maybe he would do the “revered ancestor” bit and work a little folk magic for me). So I began a silent invocation using my best “Father Karras” delivery as I picked up the pace again (but without the swearing, which wouldn’t have been too cool under the circumstances):

“The power of Walt compels you!” <tug, grunt, yank, pant>
“The power of Walt compels you!” <tug, grunt, yank, pant>

Damned if it didn’t start right up on the second or third pull (and no, the carburetor wasn’t flooded). Proof positive, eh? And thanks, Wally . . . er, Dad! (Only his brothers called him Wally.)

Originally published at http://parsifalswheeldivination.wordpress.com on November 30, 2023.