On one snowy day, I didn't leave my apartment. No one stopped by. The next day I ran an errand and was gone for ten minutes. It was another cold day, and again I had no visitors.

On the third day, I looked for an ointment jar on the desk in the bedroom. It wasn't there. I remembered using it the day before. Where could it be?

I finally found it at the bottom of the wastebasket beside the desk. It was standing upright. Garbage lay on top of it.

It looked intentionally placed. But even if it had fallen and landed that way, who would have knocked it over except me? Why wouldn't I have picked it up?

Did an external force rattle the apartment, cause the ointment jar to move five inches, fall off the desk, and "stick the landing?" If so, why didn't other objects on the desk move or fall? And why didn't I notice that force? There are no earthquakes where I live.

My apartment is ground level with an outside entrance. I hadn't locked the door when I left for the Post Office. Did a neighbor or someone else see me leave the apartment that day, enter, and move just that one object as some sort of prank? Others can't predict my comings and goings. An intruder would've borne a high risk of getting caught.

Did I sleepwalk? How and why would I have been unconsciously guided to place the ointment in the waste basket?

The night before the ointment went missing, I was watching television in the living room when I heard what seemed to be a loud bump coming from the bedroom. I didn't check it out; bumps and knocks are frequent here.

The moving jar wasn't my first mysterious experience in this apartment. There was the flying table knife. Some years ago, I heard a loud clang in the kitchen, went to investigate, and saw it lying in the middle of the floor.

Then there was the disappearing saucepan lid. It might have fallen into a tall kitchen wastebasket and found its way to the dumpster, but I retrieved the garbage bag from the dumpster in a failed attempt to solve the mystery. I didn't find it.

And then there was the bathroom light. On random and rare occasions, The light would turn on when I flipped the switch. Faulty wiring? Maybe, but everything else plugged into the same circuit operated normally.

I'm unaware of spooky legends about this property or my village. Nothing I've experienced in this apartment has been frightening, and I'm thankful for that.

But I do remember some things.

A few days before the knife fell onto the floor, I listened to a podcast about poltergeists. The subject certainly was present in my mind.

The saucepan lid disappeared during a phase in my life when I had acute feelings of lack. Likewise, the bathroom lights only misbehaved when I had high anxiety. When I became aware of that, I would bless the light switch. The light would then turn back on.

As a fan of paranormal books and podcasts, I decided I would like to experience the "unexplainable" as long as it wasn't frightening. And then the ointment jar disappeared.

A few hours after I found it, I realized, "This is it! The paranormal experience! Magic is real!"

And then I realized that the previous strange occurrences were magical as well.

I've concluded that the energies within my apartment walls belong to me. What happens in this apartment reflects my inner state. I don't know how the knife flew, the lid disappeared, the lights failed to turn on, or the ointment jar moved. But I suspect I was the cause of them all.

It might be easier to believe in disembodied spirits or demons as the cause of the strange things we see and the weird things that happen. But what if I am the cause, and the energy that manifests in unusual ways comes from me? That would mean we, as individuals, have more power than we know.

If your inner state is one of love, joy, and peace, that energy will express itself in the outer world. Sometimes, it might appear as magic, but it will always be a blessing for everyone.

So when I am in that state of happiness, my only job is to stay there.