It’s All in Your Head (Mostly): The Real Problem with Ghost Hunting
Why Most Ghost Hunts Miss the Point—and How to Fix It
Introduction
I was glued to Season 6, Episode 1 of Expedition X, immersed in the haunting vibes of Eloise Asylum. Like anyone drawn to the ethics of ghost hunting—or the raw allure of decaying architecture and echoes of human suffering—I felt that familiar charge when the guide declared, “This is the most active floor.” Cue the EMF meters, the whispered “did-you-hear-thats?,” and the stage set for a haunted experience. I’ve lived that scene a hundred times across a hundred locations.
But after years chasing the why and how of hauntings with relentless passion, I’ve reached a hard-earned conclusion: it’s mostly in your head. Your beliefs, expectations—even collective stories drive what you encounter. If you’re drawn to spirit communication like I am, you’re already tuning into the unseen, whether you know it or not.
Before you hurl an Ovilus at me, hear me out. Hauntings are real, spirits are real, but mainstream ghost hunting—obsessed with gadgets, proof, and virality—is often more performance than revelation. If you’re not using it for personal spiritual growth, or worse, exploiting it for entertainment, you’re not just missing the point. You’re distorting the signal.
To unpack this, I draw on voices like Brother Richard Hendrick, a Franciscan monk whose 2019 Strange Familiars interview blends Irish mysticism with spiritual wisdom (Renner, 2019). His insights, paired with my field experiences and cultural traditions, reveal what’s at stake in the unseen.
Some in the paranormal community find “ghost-hunting” offensive, viewing it as predatory. Fair enough. Here, I mean hunting as seeking—to explore, question, connect, not to trap or harm. I’m not bagging ghosts like it’s open season. But too often, this field misses the mark, favoring thrills over meaning.
What follows is a dive into how your mind shapes the experience, why intention trumps tools, and why we should treat this work as a sacred dialogue, not a thrill ride. This journey starts with a radical idea: reality itself might be mental, and your mind is the key to unlocking the unseen.
Reality Check: It’s All Mental (Literally)
Here’s the key: everything is mental.
Most assume the mind is just neurons firing in the brain. But what if that’s backwards? Philosopher Philip Goff’s work on panpsychism suggests consciousness is the fabric of reality itself, not a byproduct of matter (Goff, 2019). In ghost hunting, this means our minds don’t just observe spirits but actively connect with them in a shared reality. Picture the universe as one vast mind, with our brains as antennas tuning into its frequency. Ghosts aren’t mere remnants—they’re like side-channel transmissions, messages from another layer of consciousness reaching us through the same universal system. Spirits, then, might exist within this shared mental field—a kind of universal consciousness that connects all minds—where our thoughts and beliefs can shape what we encounter, like egregores at St. Albans Sanatorium, entities created by the collective focus and emotions of visitors. When we die, we don’t vanish; we shift to another layer of this cosmic awareness.
This isn’t just philosophy. Tibetan Buddhism’s Bardo Thödol, or The Tibetan Book of the Dead, describes the post-death state as a liminal dream realm, a transitional space where consciousness lingers before moving to the next life (Evans-Wentz, 1960). It’s not an end but a transition, like tuning to another station in the same broadcast field.
So what does this mean for ghost hunting? We’re not just observing external phenomena—we’re entangled in them. Our thoughts, emotions, and beliefs don’t just filter what we see—they shape what unfolds. Ghost-hunting isn’t about proving something with a gadget; it’s about recognizing our consciousness as part of the transmission.
From the Monroe Institute’s sound-induced consciousness research to ITC sessions tapping into consciousness unbound by space or time—like a signal traveling beyond physical limits—one truth emerges: Ghosts may be one mind reaching for another across dimensions. Maybe you’ve never seen it this way, but once you do, you’ll realize your investigations were lost in the static—until now. In short, ghost hunting isn’t just about capturing evidence—it’s about tuning our minds to a shared reality where spirits and our consciousness intertwine.
Imagination and Intention — The Frequencies We Broadcast
Imagination isn’t idle—it’s generative. It doesn’t just influence our experiences in the paranormal; it shapes them. Walk into a haunted location expecting a vivid figure from its ghost stories, and your mind is already tuning that frequency. If that place is soaked in emotional residue, any intelligence present—especially chaotic or spiritual ones—may seize your script and shape the outcome.
I’ve seen this at St. Albans. My team entered steeped in tales of “Donald” and “Jacob,” entities tied to specific rooms. During our sessions, ITC responses echoed those names repeatedly, though no historical records confirm their existence (Paraholics, 2025). Research suggests ITC can reflect investigators’ expectations, acting like a mirror for our beliefs (Smith & Lyle, 2020). It felt less like uncovering the past and more like improvising a ghost story in real time, co-authored with the unseen.
To be clear: I’m not saying we invent the spirits. I’m saying our perception colors the channel. Just as a radio plays what it’s tuned to, our expectations can shape which voices come through—and how we interpret them.
That’s why the quality of your consciousness matters. If you enter this work with grounded clarity and compassion—vibrating high in the truest sense: with love, humility, and genuine concern for others—you’re more likely to resonate with higher vibrational intelligences. But come in chaotic, ego-driven, or emotionally unstable, and you risk attracting others operating on that same low frequency.
This work is a mirror. The unseen reflects who we are, not just what we want.
Popular ghost hunting spots, like St. Albans, are often teeming with spiritual energies because of the intense focus and collective intention they receive. This concentrated energy acts as a magnet for a wide variety of entities—not just location-specific ghosts tied to the site’s history, but a diverse array of spirits drawn to the power of the place.
Another example: at the Indiana State Sanatorium, retired New Albany chief of detectives Mike Culwell appeared to connect with a spirit calling herself Mary, who claimed a nursing home room number that didn’t exist. The number was fabricated, matching the ghost story archetype—a lone, elderly woman in a forgotten hospital wing—but not the history. Whether it’s false memory, impression, or a clever trickster, the point is the same: spirit interactions are shaped by what we project. Our intention is the focus.
Brother Richard puts it simply: “Imagination and intention play a massive part” in how we engage the spirit world (Renner, 2019). Seek drama—clicks, clout, attention—and you’ll attract chaotic energies. Approach with respect and clarity, and the exchange may turn coherent, insightful, even transformative.
This isn’t unique to ITC or modern ghost hunting. In Yoruba tradition, rituals focus the mind to align with divine intent. Japan’s spirit boards require careful closure to maintain balance. In Spiritism, practitioners emphasize emotional clarity to avoid deception (Kardec, 1861). Whatever your approach—ghost box, apps, or intuition—your mindset amplifies the connection. Scattered thoughts create static.
But who’s listening on the other side? The spirit realm is more than ghosts—it’s a vast ecosystem of beings, each with its own agenda.
The Ecology of Spirits — A Vast, Layered Realm
Not everything that speaks in the dark is a ghost.
Brother Richard describes the unseen as a “vast ecosystem of spirits”—a complex, layered ecology far beyond pop culture’s disembodied souls (Renner, 2019). It’s a ladder of beings, with countless rungs of intelligences—ancient, indifferent, benevolent, or predatory. Humans? We’re far down the ladder, a minor tier in a hierarchy we barely grasp.
In Irish folklore, the “little people”—literal fairies—aren’t metaphors but entities with their own agendas. Offer reverence, earn protection; disrespect them, invite mischief (Evans-Wentz, 1911). Anishinaabe manitous—spirits animating land, water, sky—coexist but aren’t bound to human priorities (Johnston, 2001). Hindu devas and asuras balance order and chaos (Doniger, 1981). Christian angels and demons hold ranked roles (Russell, 1981). Each being—trickster, observer, elemental—operates with distinct will.
Haunted locations aren’t just for the dead. We might tune into something older, archetypal, or sentient echoes. Most often, we’re hearing low-level spirits—trauma-bound, confused, reactive static of the afterlife.
Discernment is everything. Brother Richard warns theatrical messages demand caution. His process: Root yourself through prayer or meditation, seek repeated confirmation, measure the message—does it bring peace or chaos?
The spirit realm isn’t a ghost buffet. It’s a wilderness. And if you don’t know what kind of being you’re talking to, you might be handing your attention—and your energy—to something that knows exactly how to use it.
Tricksters and Sensationalists — Two Sides of the Same Coin
Here’s where things get slippery: the trickster.
Every spiritual tradition has one. Norse Loki. West African Anansi. Celtic Fae. They don’t just cause chaos—they expose blind spots. They test your assumptions, mock your certainty, and reflect your intention like a distorted mirror. Their role isn’t to guide—it’s to rattle. And if you’re paying attention, that disruption can sharpen your discernment more than any well-behaved spirit ever could.
Brother Richard warns from Irish tradition: tricksters show up when your ego does. They amplify what’s unexamined—your pride, your need to control, your craving to be seen. Not always malevolent, but always strategic. They will play to your expectations, wear the names you fear or desire, and pull you deeper into a story of your own making.
I’ve seen this firsthand at St. Albans. A voice broke through: snarling, sharp—“Kill them.” I laughed, surprised. It shot back, “How is that happy?” and then, cool and calm: “Kill you, me, God, and everyone.” It was pure performance—but for whom? The stories of “Donald” and “Jacob” that had saturated our sessions had no basis in documented history. The names were echoes of the legend we carried in with us. The trickster didn’t invent the narrative—it borrowed ours and used it against us.
But that’s the point. Tricksters aren’t just obstacles—they’re barometers. How we react to misdirection, contradiction, or absurdity reveals our inner alignment. Do we spiral, get defensive, chase every curveball? Or do we ground ourselves, laugh, ask better questions? Even if their motives are unclear, tricksters arrive to humble us, teaching through chaos what clarity we lack.
And many investigators—especially those performative for social media clout—become unwitting conduits for this trickster energy. By chasing likes, they amplify distortion, feeding chaotic entities that thrive on ego and confusion. Their theatrics show how deeply tricksters can weave deception, keeping us wallowing in the darkness of our own making. The lesson is stark: Unchecked ego invites chaos, blinding us to the truth. The hoaxer thinks they’re running the show, but they’re just actors in an invisible opera, staged by forces more cunning than they realize.
Brother Richard cautions: intend deception, and you’ll attract it. The Others don’t care about your brand—they respond to your signal. If that signal is distortion, expect noise in return.
The lesson isn’t to avoid the trickster—it’s to recognize when it shows up, and to learn from the encounter. That’s what keeps the work honest. That’s what keeps you honest.
The Hubris of Ghost Hunters — Playing God with Spirits
If there’s one trait that warps the heart of paranormal investigation, it’s arrogance.
You’ve seen it—the overconfident approach. People waltzing into locations like they own the place, barking questions at the unseen, demanding signs, brandishing tools like badges of authority. There’s an unspoken hubris in much of ghost-hunting culture: the idea that the dead owe the living their cooperation, that we can command the unknown like a concierge.
Brother Richard calls this out with a scalpel’s precision. In his words, most ghost hunters aren’t in dialogue with the Other—they’re “outside the discourse,” barely “listening through the wall” (Strange Familiars, 2019). Without spiritual practice, discernment, or humility, you’re not leading an investigation. You’re stumbling into a realm you don’t understand, and doing it with a bullhorn.
Nowhere is this arrogance more obvious than in the trope of “crossing spirits over.” It sounds compassionate—helping the lost find the light. But what if that spirit isn’t lost? What if it doesn’t want to go? What if it’s not what we think—perhaps residual energy, thought-forms like those at St. Albans, ancient intelligences, or entities posing as spirits?
I’ve seen groups declare spaces “cleared,” only for fresh phenomena to erupt within days. Did they help a spirit move on, or were they performing a ritual for show?
That said, there may still be value in simply offering peace. If a spirit truly is suffering, being present with compassion—without agenda—can be a quiet act of encouragement. Not a cosmic rescue mission, but a kind gesture. A stillness near the threshold. Not every being needs to be “sent on.” But some may just need to know they’re seen.
To be fair, there are reasons some investigators lean so heavily on tech or spectacle. In a field often dismissed as pseudoscience, gadgets provide something tangible—something skeptics can see, measure, or replay. And with attention spans short and competition fierce, some resort to dramatization just to be seen. But when the pursuit becomes more about validation than inquiry, we risk mistaking noise for signal—and missing the real conversation entirely.
Brother Richard’s ecological lens offers a better way: spirits may fulfill roles we don’t understand—guardians, messengers, witnesses. When we assume every lingering presence is broken, lost, or ours to fix, we stop listening. We project. And that’s when we lose the thread.
The moment you stop being a guest and start overstepping, the Others may remind you exactly who’s in charge. Rather than commanding the unseen, true ghost hunting invites a mindful exchange, where your energy shapes the encounter.
The Reciprocal Dance — Are You Okay with Being Fuel?
Far from the arrogance of commanding spirits, ghost hunting is a reciprocal dance, and our attention tunes the connection.
So what if ghost-hunting is partially performative—does that make it meaningless?
Not necessarily. It’s a reciprocal dance. You bring expectation, emotional charge, ego—and the spirit realm responds in kind. Without grounding, that exchange tips from insight to siphon, draining your energy. Our attention is an antenna, drawing spirits’ responses. Unaware, even genuine researchers can be played, their energy feeding tricksters who unravel the unprepared. Lead the dance—don’t be led, or spirits may feed on your signal.
I saw this at a public event at Waverly Hills Sanatorium. One group barreled in like it was a haunted house attraction—loud, performative, adrenalized. Their sessions were chaotic: mocking, repetitive, disjointed. But the next group, quieter and centered, shifted something. Responses turned intelligible, gentle, carrying a clarity that felt profound. The building didn’t change—our energy did.
Beyond shaping the interaction, the quietest magic of a haunted space is its mirror to your soul. It doesn’t just reflect fear or ego—it reveals your alignment, sincerity, readiness. When you enter with intention and openness, the quality of what speaks back might say more about you than the location. That’s the quiet magic of it. Ghost hunting—at its best—isn’t just about contact. It’s communion. It’s a conversation that lets you take stock of who you are, what you bring, and how the unseen responds. And in that exchange, you might just find yourself.
Another chilling example: during a private residential case, voices came through an ITC device claiming to be the deceased father of the homeowner. But another spirit—insistent, almost frantic—argued it was an imposter, a trickster pretending to be the father, seizing on the homeowner’s doubts. As Allan Kardec warned, spirits may pose as loved ones to test our clarity, turning sessions into performances if we’re not discerning (Kardec, 1861). The homeowner’s uncertainty fueled a narrative that felt like pure spectacle.
Ghost-hunting is a feedback loop. Your consciousness is a transmitter. Every spirit in the hierarchy of spirits has unique personalities, purposes, intentions, humor, and limitations. This is why mindfulness of what they’re capable of is imperative (Strange Familiars, 2019). Brother Richard’s discernment—gauging if responses bring peace or chaos—keeps you on sure footing.
Careless energy makes you fuel. You risk becoming fuel without boundaries. Traditional systems—Tibetan rituals, Indigenous ceremonies—stress closures for safety. So ask yourself: Are you showing up with clarity, humility, boundaries? Or are you flinging open the doors, hoping whatever wanders in is friendly? Because not every presence leaves when you do.
Ghost Hunting with Integrity — Honoring the Field
Let’s give a nod to the investigators doing this work for the right reasons.
Forget the flood of fakery and theatrics—some researchers are in it for meaning, not metrics. They document with care. They skip the spectacle. They step into haunted spaces with humility and respect. No brand-building here—just a quiet push for understanding.
This isn’t a takedown. It’s a call to step up.
The paranormal world’s drowning in gimmicks. Social media’s a circus of creators turning the spirit realm into a stage—faking evidence, yelling “demon” at every creak, chasing likes instead of truth. And it works. Flashy gets views. Real doesn’t.
The fallout? Haunted spots turn into theater sets. Spirits get reduced to props. And anyone seeking genuine connection gets buried in the noise.
But integrity still holds weight.
Quiet, honest work might not blow up online, but it lasts. It earns trust—with your audience, your peers, and maybe even whatever’s out there. That trust is the foundation for anything real in this field.
For all you sciency investigators out there wanting to prove this is all real, here’s a heads-up: repeatability’s a tough nut to crack in this game. Your headspace, your intent, and the vibe of a place can shift what goes down, making lab-style consistency a pipe dream. Integrity means owning that—logging it straight, looking at patterns and context over cookie-cutter results.
This isn’t about ditching rigor. It’s about rethinking “proof.” Patterns across cases, the story behind each investigation, the bigger picture—they might tell us more than identical outcomes ever will. Integrity’s in the details: owning the variables, reflecting on their sway, and admitting the unseen doesn’t play by our rules. But if we listen close, it might still show itself.
So step back. Dig deeper. Don’t chase cheap thrills when something smarter, richer, maybe even sacred, is waiting in the quiet.
The unseen isn’t here for our amusement.
But it might talk—if we show up real.
A Better Way Forward — For Paraholics Who Want the Real Deal
So where do we go from here?
Brother Richard’s contemplative insights—echoed in traditions around the world—offer direction: we move forward with discernment, humility, and intention. We stop treating the spirit realm like a game or a gimmick.
Start by ruling out the mundane. Not every flicker is a phantom. Not every cold breeze is a message. Not every voice is what it claims to be.
Then set a clear intention. Pause before turning on your recorder. Ask yourself: Why am I here? What am I willing to hear?
Respect the complexity of the unseen. It isn’t just ghosts and demons. It’s a layered ecology—archetypes, ancestors, egregores, and intelligences we don’t yet have names for. Some speak truth. Others test you. Some wear masks made of your own fears.
And finally, treat ghost-hunting as a vehicle for personal transformation—not a content engine. You’re not there to provoke. You’re there to witness, to reflect, and maybe, just maybe, to grow.
If you want to do this with integrity, consider:
• Set a Clear Intention – Seek clarity, not spectacle.
• Ground Yourself – Calm minds make better receivers.
• Close the Session – Don’t leave energetic doors open.
• Reflect – Write it down. Patterns matter more than moments.
At Paraholics, we’re not here to kill the thrill.
We’re here to give it meaning.
Imagine a community of seekers known not for gimmicks, but for depth—for reverence—for asking better questions. A community the unseen might finally take seriously, because we finally started taking it seriously ourselves.
Tricksters will still show up. That’s part of the terrain. Maybe they’re here to test us. Maybe they’re just attracted to the noise. But if you lead with sincerity, even your vulnerabilities will carry weight.
Let’s raise the bar.
Let’s make the unseen take notice.
Because when we lead with clarity, humility, and curiosity—when we show up with compassion, not just questions—we’re not just ghost hunters anymore. We’re in a true conversation with the unseen.
—Evel Ogilville | Paraholics.com
Works Cited
• Doniger, Wendy. The Rig Veda: An Anthology. Penguin Classics, 1981.
• Evans-Wentz, W. Y. The Fairy-Faith in Celtic Countries. Oxford University Press, 1911.
• Evans-Wentz, W. Y. The Tibetan Book of the Dead. Oxford University Press, 1960.
• Goff, Philip. Galileo’s Error: Foundations for a New Science of Consciousness. Pantheon Books, 2019.
• Johnston, Basil. The Manitous: The Spiritual World of the Ojibway. Minnesota Historical Society Press, 2001.
• Kardec, Allan. The Mediums’ Book. Allan Kardec Educational Society, 1861.
• Paraholics. St. Albans Sanatorium: Ghost Hunting and the Power of Belief. 2025, www.paraholics.com/st-albans-sanatorium-ghost-hunting.
• Renner, Timothy, host. “A Monastic View of The Other.” Strange Familiars, episode 131, 5 Dec. 2019, www.strangefamiliars.com.
• Russell, Jeffrey Burton. Satan: The Early Christian Tradition. Cornell University Press, 1981.
• Smith, J., & Lyle, R. “Psychic Projection in ITC Experiments.” Journal of Anomalous Sciences, vol. 12, 2020, pp. 45–60.
Thank you for this good and well-thought out post. You referenced the work of Philip Goff… Have you read any of Bernardo Kastrup’s books or articles on Analytic Idealism? (“Meaning in Absurdity,” “Dreamed Up Reality,” and “Decoding Jung’s Metaphysics” are particularly good.)
Also, what do you think of the possibility that what one might be interacting with in a haunted location is not a full personality or an imprint on the environment, but rather a complex or sub-personality, perhaps something that got broken off, like a sliver of the deceased’s subconscious?