It's cemetery weather, people. In the South that means the temperature has dropped, the bugs have began to dissipate and the sky has turned a little grey. If you see a pale figure wandering among the Charleston tombstones, don't be frightened. It's just me
I get a lot of strange looks when I talk openly about spending my time in graveyards. I think people probably imagine I go there to play with ouija boards and read from a satanic bible. That couldn't be further from the case. I hold profound respect for the dead and for the spirit world, and I am very mindful in how I interact with those forces.
I visit graveyards for the same reason I go to the mountains, or to the ocean: the energy and the stories they offer. They are the places I can hear my inner voice the loudest, where my connection to my path has the strongest signal. I go there to reflect, to journal, to draw, to create and to listen. To me the graveyard is like a mystical park, quiet but telling.