The ectoplasmic hand

One of the most amazing things I have ever witnessed was in a session conducted by English physicist Stewart Alexander. Not only did I get to see a hand made of ectoplasm grow out of Stewart’s chest, but I was moved by him.

Ectoplasm is a white, web-like substance that releases a medium, which is then used by the spirit to assume a physical form. Think about breathing on a cold night. Others have described it as “cheesecloth” and smelling of ozone. Search the internet – there are several wonderful images of mediums releasing ectoplasm.

At a recent retreat in Cober Hill, England, Stewart demonstrated the art of physical trance mediumship. I was looking forward to Stewart’s session for several reasons: his slick evenings are always a treat, and one of his controls is a spirit named Walter, who was Canadian, one of my compatriots. I met the lovely Walter at a previous shoot, and he was delighted to meet another Canuck from across the pond.

At Cober Hill, none of the 60 people who attended were disappointed. Trumpets danced across the ceiling, and the spirit made its presence known through sounds and other phenomena. But the highlight of the evening was when Walter called “Carolyn, ma’am” and two other members of the audience to come forward and sit with Stewart around a small table in front of the “cabinet”: a small square area with black curtains. from where Stewart leads the session. The front curtain can be opened and closed.

Stewart sat inside the cabinet, but his hands joined ours to form a circle on the table, which was lit from below by a soft red light. As we sat silently in the dark, a thick, concentrated mist seemed to be escaping from Stewart’s solar plexus area. Oh my God, I thought, staring as the shimmering mist slowly coalesced into a webbed hand and then a full hand, right before my eyes!

There were gasps of surprise from those sitting nearby. I had heard stories about ectoplasmic manifestations: my grandmother was the hairdresser for former Prime Minister McKenzie King’s psychic, and she often complained about how difficult it was to clean ectoplasm off dining room chair cushions after a session.

“Hold still, ma’am,” Walter said through Stewart, as this large, well-defined ectoplasmic hand crept across the dimly lit table and gently tapped the top of my hand. “Not bad for a man who passed away a hundred years ago, huh?” Walter joked.

I felt dizzy, a bit fearful and apprehensive, being “touched” by this spiritual presence. It was so… otherworldly, is the best way I can put it. The “skin” was warm, warmer than my own hand. Then a warm sensation went up my arm to my heart. I felt dizzy, happy. I started to cry. I resisted the urge to grip the hand more firmly.

Slowly the hand began to withdraw towards Stewart’s abdomen; I was sorry to see him go. One of Stewart’s assistants helped me back to my seat, and the session continued. Walter retreated to the cabinet and spent the rest of the night connecting some audience members with loved ones who had crossed over.

I was in a daze and later too excited to sleep. The experience had been profound… and a bit sad, as I realized that physical mediumship is a vanishing art. Very few mediums seem to be practicing it these days. Stewart is beginning to regress on the appearances of him, and that will be a shame for those of us who have come to know him not only as one of the most reputable physical trance mediums, but as a good and honest soul, and a true friend. .