Lore - REMASTERED – Episode 50: Mary, Mary

Episode Date: May 1, 2023

In this remastered classic episode, we revisit the story of two young women bound by something beyond our world, and the frighteningly familiar tales they tell. Plus, stick around for a brand new bonus story at the end. Researched, written, and produced by Aaron Mahnke, with music by Chad Lawson, with additional help from GennaRose Nethercott and Harry Marks. ———————— Lore Resources:  Episode Music: lorepodcast.com/music  Episode Sources: lorepodcast.com/sources  All the shows from Grim & Mild: www.grimandmild.com ———————— This episode of Lore was sponsored by: BiOptimizers: Go now to MagBreakthrough.com/LORE to get 10% off your Magnesium Breakthrough with offer code LORE, and find out this month's gift with purchase. BetterHelp: Lore is sponsored by BetterHelp. Give online therapy a try at BetterHelp.com/LORE, and get on your way to being your best self. Stamps: Get a 4-week trial, free postage, and a digital scale at Stamps.com/LORE. Thanks to Stamps.com for sponsoring the show! To advertise on our podcast, please reach out to [e-mail], or visit our listing here.   ©2023 Aaron Mahnke. All rights reserved.

This episode is sponsored by Bioptimizers. Did you know that roughly 75% of people are magnesium deficient? And that can lead to higher levels of anxiety, low energy, and trouble sleeping. The good news is that you can experience positive health benefits by getting enough magnesium. That's why I recommend magnesium breakthrough from Bioptimizers. It's the only organic full-spectrum magnesium supplement that includes seven unique forms of magnesium for stress relief and better sleep all in one bottle. Go now to magbreakthrough.com slash lore to get your magnesium breakthrough and find out

this month's gift with purchase. Hey folks, Aaron here. Today's episode marks the 50th classic episode of lore that I've remastered. In other words, my mission to re-record and re-score the first, oldest, and roughest 50 episodes has reached the end. And it's been a huge success. Of course, all of the original versions are still available to listen to. But the perfectionist in me is glad to have more modern versions of these early episodes

for new listeners to enjoy. What's next? Well, it's something big. Starting next week, lore is going weekly. That means instead of 28 new episodes each year, you'll be getting 52. And the stories we have planned for you are phenomenal. Every other week, you'll be getting a true and tried lore episode focusing on some of the more historical tales we tell.

But in between, and the spot these remastered used to fill up, you'll be getting something new. We call them lore legends. These will be episodes devoted to those powerful local legends found around the world. Stories with a bit less historical accuracy, but just as much influence and chills. They'll be researched and written in the same style that you love and expect from us. But thanks to their distinct subject matter, they'll have a slightly more old lore feel. And I'll kick each of them off with a special intro to let you know you're about to enjoy

a lore legends. So there you go. Lore is going weekly. The stories are getting even more creepy, and you'll have a lot more to fall in love with. That's a win-win-win, if you're keeping track. Hard to argue with that. And now, on with the show.

Planes aren't supposed to collide with each other. Just taking statistics into account, you're a lot more likely to hear about automobile collisions than airplanes, because of the simple fact that there are a lot more cars on the road today than planes in the air. Still as unusual as it sounds, it happens. In the late 50s, two military planes were flying off the coast of Georgia, above the waters of the Atlantic that feed into Savannah's Tybee Roads. It's a busy shipping lane on the surface of the water.

But on February 5th of 1958, the sky above was busy as well. At 2 am that morning, a B-47 bomber was running a simulated mission along the coast, heading up from Florida. At the same time, an F-86 fighter plane was patrolling from the north. When they collided, it wasn't disastrous like you might see in a movie. Neither plane exploded, but they were both badly damaged. The pilot of the fighter plane had to eject and let his plane drop into the sea. The bomber, though, managed to stay in the air.

It lost a lot of altitude, though, and it was clear that they were going to need to make an emergency landing and fast. To help, they requested permission to jettison some extra weight, which they did. They only dropped one thing, though. On board was a bomb that weighed nearly 8,000 pounds, a nuclear bomb, and they released it off the coast of Tybee Island, where it plummeted into the sea below. And although the military tried to recover it later that year, that mission was a failure. It's still there to this day.

That's the trouble with a world as big as ours. Things, even big things, are easy to hide. It adds a layer of mystery to our experience, an element of unknown risk. But the hidden things of our world aren't limited to objects. You see, even people, the ones who live and breathe and move around us all the time, can act a lot like the cold, dark waters of the sea. At the end of the day, you never know what lies hidden, just beneath the surface. I'm Aaron Mankey, and this is Lore.

Mary was born in 1847, and she was just six months old when she had her first seizure. Her muscles twitched uncontrollably, and the pupils of her eyes dilated. Her parents, Asa and Anne Roth, were of course sick with worry. The seizure, which seemed to be epileptic, left Mary unconscious for several days, and for a while they assumed the worst. Still she recovered, and life moved on. But as it did, the seizures followed them. In an effort to find some relief for their daughter, the family moved from Indiana to

Texas when she was about 10. A year later, they followed the newly built Peoria Railroad back north and settled in the brand new town of South Middleport, Illinois. They built one of the first homes there, started a new life, and hoped for the best. But Mary's seizures continued. By the time they moved to Illinois, she was having them at least once a day. This was before even the earliest anti-epileptic drugs, such as potassium bromide, and that lack of options left Mary and her parents feeling depressed and hopeless.

Add to this the intense physical drain that regular seizures had on her health, and it's easy to see how dark those days must have been for her. One of the methods they tried for a while was bloodletting. It's a practice that dates back thousands of years, and it's appeared in many forms, from knives and needles to spring-loaded cutting devices. One of the professions that historically delivered bloodletting services was, of all people, the barber. Even today, you can find barber shops that still use the red-and-white candy-stripe

pole outside. That's a carryover from another era, designed to represent blood and bandages. Mary's preferred method of choice, though, was actually leeches. And because she complained constantly of headaches, she would place them on her temples, believing that they would help. She used them so often that she even began to view them as pets. And like a child with a kitten, time spent with her leeches would often put a smile on Mary's face.

As an aside, if your kid asked for a dog for Christmas, I can't help but feel like they're missing out on a fun pet option here. Leeches are really cheap to feed, and you don't have to walk them. Just putting it out there. Mary's condition went on like this for about three years, with the use of the leeches escalating slowly. All the while, she was a sad young woman, and rightly so. But she was also bright, excelling in her studies and even becoming an accomplished pianist.

But her music choices reflected her mood, leaning more toward the dark and the melancholy. In 1864, at the age of 18, she took the bloodletting to a new level, cutting herself on the arm with a knife. The loss of blood was so heavy that it caused her to pass out. When she did regain consciousness, something seemed off. She spent days screaming and thrashing around on the bed. There were periods of several hours at a time when multiple adults had to hold her down to prevent her from hurting herself.

And then, like a tropical storm that's passed through a city, everything went calm. Instead of uprooted trees and leveled buildings, though, Mary was left awake but unresponsive. Was as if something inside her had broken. People would walk into the room and speak to her, but she didn't seem to notice them. No eye contact, no replies. If she could see and hear them, she certainly wasn't acknowledging it. But in exchange for those new flaws, Mary could do things. It started with mundane tasks like dressing herself or putting her hair up with pins,

but her parents started to notice something odd about it all. When Mary did those things, her eyes were open, but she didn't seem to be using them. She was completing tasks that required sight, but her eyes never moved, never shifted or focused on the task at hand. It was as if she wasn't really seeing anything at all. So they decided to test it out. They put a blindfold on her and then asked her to repeat the same tasks. Mary complied, and successfully too.

Even with a dark blindfold on, she could dress herself completely, even picking up pins off the dressing table and using them to do her hair. Of course, all of that could have been muscle memory, but there were other, less explainable things that she could do as well. Still blindfolded, her parents placed an encyclopedia in front of her. Even though she couldn't see the pages, she opened the book up to the word blood and then proceeded to read the entry word for word. And this made a lot of people in town curious.

She was doing something that no one should be able to do, and they wanted answers. So they began to come to the house to test her. One person who visited suggested that she might have memorized the encyclopedia entry. She'd been obsessed with blood for years, of course. So they asked her for a deeper test. They took a few of Mary's personal letters, written in her own hand, and then shuffled them into a larger stack of papers. Still blindfolded, Mary was able to pull out her own and then read them aloud to the people

in the room. A local newspaper editor even stopped by to do an experiment of his own, and his was the most astounding of them all. He arrived with an envelope in his coat pocket. It was still sealed, and inside it, he told everyone, was a letter from a friend who lived far away. He then handed the envelope to a blindfolded Mary, who turned it over and over but never opened it, and then without hesitation, she announced the name of the person whose signature

was on the letter. The editor opened it up and checked. Mary had been correct. But it wasn't all magic shows and wonder. No, Mary was still having seizures on a daily basis, and as a result, her depression was deepening, and that led to more cutting. It's tragic, really. Mental health care was practically medieval in the middle of the 19th century, and that

meant that Mary was left to suffer largely without help outside of her own family. And then, on July 5th of 1865, Mary's parents left her home alone while they took a short trip. Mary got up that day, made herself breakfast, and then went back up to her bedroom, and it was there that she had a powerful seizure and died as a result. She'd only been 19 years old at the time. A year before the tragic death of Mary Roff, Thomas and Lucinda Venom welcomed a daughter into their family.

Mary Venom was born in April of 1864, and almost immediately, the family took to calling her by her middle name, Laranzee. In 1871, when Laranzee was just seven, her family moved up from Milford County to South Middleport. But in those years between Mary Roff's death and the Venom's move, the township had incorporated. The newly formed city was called Watzika, in honor of a well-known Native American woman who had been born in the area. For a while, Laranzee's childhood was nondescript, as she was healthy and happy, and that continued

to be true for a number of years. But then, in early July of 1877, at the age of 13, Laranzee started to complain that she'd been hearing voices in her bedroom. She claimed that they were calling out to her, saying her name over and over. Her parents, chalking it up to the overactive imagination of a child, largely ignored her. Then, on the night of July 5th, Laranzee had a small seizure that left her in an odd state. She was still conscious, but stayed mysteriously rigid for nearly five hours. When she finally did snap out of whatever trance she seemed to have been in, she told

her parents that she felt rather strange. Of course she did, they said. She'd had a seizure, after all. The following day, Laranzee had a second seizure and entered into that awake yet stiff state once more. This time, though, she spoke. Her parents sat beside her bed and listened as she told them what she could see. But even though her eyes were open, she didn't describe the bedroom to them.

She described heaven. Specifically, she described seeing her two siblings, her sister Laura and her brother Birdie, both of whom had passed away young. In fact, Laranzee had only been three when her brother had died, and the family rarely talked about those obviously painful memories, which made her description even more unusual. All through the summer and well into November, Laranzee continued to have these trances. Each time she would describe another world, the world beyond the veil of reality. Beyond that curtain that separates life and death, there were angels, spirits, heaven,

and all of the details she attached to it. It seemed surreal. And then, on November 27th, things… well, they took a turn at weird and cruised down crazy street, if you know what I mean. The seizure she had that night was extremely violent. She laid before her parents on the bed and would violently arch her back with each episode. One report claims that she bent so sharply at the waist that her feet touched her head, though I'm honestly not sure how that's possible.

If it happened, I can't imagine a more creepy scene than watching a young woman bend in half backwards while screaming in pain. It wasn't a one-time thing, either. These new seizures went on for weeks, leaving the family distraught and Laranzee exhausted and in pain. And this pattern, first seizures, then visions, repeated itself regularly for nearly three months. Outside family members were beginning to think that the young woman had lost her mind.

They begged the Venoms to send her to Peoria, where there was an asylum well-equipped to help her with her illness. Instead, the Venoms pushed on alone. Their doctor didn't know how to help, and while the seizures were something that he could at least put a medical name to, it was her visions of the afterlife, full of spirits and angels and the like, that defied his expertise. One person who did arrive and offer them answers was a man named Dr. E. Winchester Stevens. He was a friendly man in his mid-50s from Janesville, Wisconsin, and he worked as a spiritualist doctor,

offering a mixture of medical cures and other worldly solutions to people just like the Venoms. He had heard of Laranzee's story through the Venoms' neighbors, an older couple with an interest in spiritualism and the afterlife. But when Dr. Stevens entered her room for the first time on the 31st of January, he didn't meet Laranzee. Instead, the voice that came out of the young woman claimed to be that of an elderly German woman named Katrina Hogan.

She had been 63 years old when she passed away years before, and now she was in possession of Laranzee's body. And she wasn't nice, apparently. This elderly spirit, speaking through the young woman's mouth, insulted and verbally abused Thomas and Lucinda Venom. This went on for a few moments before shifting into another spirit entirely. This one claimed to be that of a young man named Willie Canning, who had died after running away from his family, but he too vanished after just a few minutes.

Dr. Stevens, who'd simply been an observer up until this point, stepped in to help. According to the historical count of the events, Stevens used mesmerism, what we would call hypnosis today, in an attempt to help Laranzee calm down. And the seizures stopped. The young woman managed to tell all the adults in the room, her parents, Dr. Stevens, and the neighbors who had brought the spiritualist to the Venom home that evil spirits wanted to control her. She was afraid, and she wanted help.

Dr. Stevens suggested that perhaps she could find a good spirit instead. Laranzee nodded and then closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she smiled. It was as if all the pain and trauma were gone, and Laranzee had been whole again. Except she hadn't. Instead, she turned her gaze toward the neighbor standing in the corner of the room with a look of intense recognition. Father, she said, and then added, It's me, Mary Roff.

Mr. and Mrs. Roff were understandably full of mixed emotions, but they'd spent the last 12 years getting over the loss of their daughter. Mr. Roff had even gone to see a medium more than once, hoping for answers, or at least closure. In one instance, the medium handed him a note, claiming it had been communicated to her by his dead daughter. There was a lot of guilt there, obviously. They had left their daughter alone for three whole days after all, and when they returned

from their trip, she was dead. They'd spent years getting over that. Mary had been a joy and a challenge and a blessing all at the same time, but for over a decade, she had been gone from their life. Until now. Mr. Roff went home that afternoon and told his wife what had happened. At the same time, Dr. Stevens continued to ask Larancy questions to get to the root of her morbid role-playing, but every answer just confused the spiritualist more.

This young woman was no longer Larancy Venom. She was Mary Roff. And Mary, it seems, wanted to go home. She didn't recognize anyone in the Venom household at all. They were strangers to her. So she asked them if she could go live with her parents at their house. She wanted to return to the home that she knew and loved and asked continuously for days.

Finally, nearly a week after Mary's arrival, the Venoms relented, and they escorted their daughter out of the house, down the street, and up to the front door of their neighbors, the Roff's. Once there, she immediately fell into a comfortable routine. She used nicknames for her parents and siblings that no one but Mary Roff would have known. She recognized family friends and would mention others from out of town that the Roff's knew. People who had never visited Watsika in all the years the Venoms had lived there. There was simply no way for anyone other than Mary Roff to know these things.

When she did see them, she treated the Venoms as if they were just some nice family she had only recently met. She was polite to them for sure, but it never evolved into anything more. What Mary knew of Larancy, in fact, she claimed to understand better than anyone else what was really going on with her. It was just a really difficult story to believe. Mary said that Larancy was sick. Her seizures were a symptom of that illness, but Mary had gone through all of that in her

own lifetime and she knew how to help. So Larancy, at least according to Mary, was in heaven getting better, and when she recovered, Mary would leave and allow the young woman back into her own body. And look, I get the skepticism, I'm right there with you. This is pretty bizarre stuff, no doubt about it, and these people were obviously primed for this story too. Spiritualism was hot in 1878. The amazing Fox sisters were three decades deep into their career as world-famous mediums,

traveling around performing seances for sell-out audiences. It wouldn't be another ten years before their act was exposed as a fraud. To the Venoms and the Roff's, and especially to Dr. Stevens, these things were real and impossible and undeniable. To our modern minds, though, there's a lot to question. Larancy had to have known her neighbors prior to that day. She'd most likely heard the tragic story of Mary Roff, if not from their own mouths then from others in town.

Surely, at some point in her childhood, someone looked at her and said, Oh, you live next door to the Roff's. It's not a story that you forget. But there were things that are harder to dismiss. Being unable to name out-of-town friends was one of them, but the woman claiming to be Mary Roff could do a lot more than that. She had dozens of conversations with old friends, people who had known Mary well before her death.

And in each of those chats, she mentioned details and events that no one other than Mary could have known. One day during this time, Mary walked into the Roff's sitting room and pointed to the velvet headdress sitting on a table. Mrs. Roff had pulled it out of Mary's things and left it for the young woman to discover. When Mary saw it, she lifted it up and described how she had worn it when her hair was short. Mrs. Roff nodded in disbelief. Another time, Mary approached Mr. Roff and told him that she had sent him a note once

through a medium he had gone to see. She told him the dates and he confirmed it with others. How she knew it, though, was a mystery, unless, of course, she really was Mary, back from the dead. All of this went on for over 15 weeks. There were periods here and there when Mary seemed to disappear and Larancy would return to her body, but these were brief moments and Larancy never seemed to be fully there. She was confused, especially by her surroundings in the Roff house.

She asked to be taken home, but before anything could be done, Mary would return. On May 7th, Mary announced to the Roff's that Larancy was ready to return for good. There were more brief switches between the two spirits for another two weeks, and then it was over. On May 21st, Mary stood in the parlor of the Roff home and said tearful goodbyes to her family. Then, one of the Roff daughters took her by the arm and escorted her down the sidewalk to the Venoms.

They chatted, as they did, with Mary discussing family matters and giving life advice to the other woman, and then they arrived. Mary mounted the steps alone and knocked on the front door. When the Venoms opened it, Mary vanished. Larancy was in full control of her own body again, awake and aware. She said she'd felt as if she'd been dreaming and then embraced her parents. They wept for joy and welcomed her home. And for as long as she lived, she never had another seizure.

This is one of those events that's difficult to accept. I fully admit that. Many people believe Larancy Venom made the whole thing up. It was a cry for attention, or a youthful prank, or maybe even a stunt put on by both families together. Others though think it's possible that she suffered from some sort of psychosis which ultimately manifested as schizophrenia. They believe that had the Roff's not taken her in and given the girl time to recover,

the Venoms might have sent her to a mental asylum, which in the 1870s was a one-way ticket to suffering and possible death. According to those who subscribed to this theory, it was the generosity and open-mindedness of her neighbors that saved her. But too many questions are left on the table for us to sort through. How did symptoms as dramatic and serious as powerful seizures simply vanish after just 15 weeks? How did she know things about the Roff's that no one else could have known?

There was even a moment during the ordeal when Larancy, claiming to be Mary, told Dr. Stevens that she had seen his deceased daughter in heaven. Mary described a cross-shaped scar on his daughter's cheek. Dr. Stevens, amazed, confirmed that the scar was from a surgery that she'd undergone to stop an infection. Whatever we end up believing here and now today, Larancy's parents were convinced. They said that their daughter had returned to their home and, I quote, more intelligent, more industrious, more womanly, and more polite than before.

She'd grown up somehow, and she was physically restored. No more seizures, no more random trances. It was all gone. For a couple of years, though, Larancy tried her hand at being a medium. Maybe the Roff's talked her into it, or maybe she wanted to see if she could still do all the things that she had become famous for. Four years after that, she married a farmer named George Binning. George, it seems, had no interest in spiritualism, and shortly after, her efforts to work as

a medium sort of ground to a halt. Two years later, they left town, moving to a farm in Kansas. They raised 13 kids, and naturally, life got busy. But she stayed in touch with folks back home as best she could. One of the people who wrote her often was Mr. Roff. It's understandable, really. For a little while, his daughter Mary had come back, and he was attached to Larancy because of it.

And on the rare occasions that she returned to Watsika to visit her parents, she would always make it a point to walk next door and visit the Roff's. She would knock, of course. It wasn't really her home, after all, but they would always welcome her in. I imagine that they would make her a cup of tea and gather together in the sitting room. I have to wonder if Mary's velvet headdress was still sitting out on the table, and if Larancy ever felt like it looked familiar somehow. What we do know is that each time she visited the Roff's, she would do them a favor.

After a bit of polite conversation, she would sit back in her chair and close her eyes. The clock on the mantel would tick loudly, almost like footsteps approaching from another room. And then her eyes would open again. But it wouldn't be Larancy. Hello, mother, she would say to them. Hello, father. How are you?

It's so good to be home. There's something strange at the intersection of illness and spirituality. I hope our journey today made that more than clear. There seems to be something else just beyond the veil that separates life from death. Maybe what? We can only guess. But Mary and Larancy aren't the only women to dance along this mystical borderline. In fact, I have one more tale I'd like to share with you that will feel right at home

on today's exploration. Stick around through this brief sponsor break to hear all about it. This show is sponsored by BetterHelp. So here's a question for you. How much time do you spend on other people in a given week versus the time you spend on yourself? And maybe more importantly, how do you balance the two? It's so easy to get caught up in what everyone else needs from us that we never take a moment

to think about what we need from ourselves. I'm guilty of this just about every single day thanks to the demands of work and family. When we spend all of our time giving, it can leave us feeling stretched thin and burned out. But therapy can give you the tools that you need to find balance in your life so that you can keep supporting others without leaving yourself behind. If you're thinking of starting therapy, give BetterHelp a try. It's entirely online, designed to be convenient, flexible, and suited to your schedule.

Just fill out a brief questionnaire to get matched with a licensed therapist and switch therapists any time for no additional charge. Find more balance with BetterHelp. Visit betterhelp.com slash lore today to get 10% off your first month. That's BetterHelp, H-E-L-P dot com slash lore. And finally, this episode was made possible by the good people over at stamps.com. Grim and Mild, everyone has a role to play, from research and writing to fact checking and promotional ideas.

I can't think of anyone on my team that isn't important, and it's so fun to watch them create their magic each and every day. When every person, moment, and penny counts in your business, you can't afford to take any of them for granted. And stamps.com gets it, because for the last 25 years, they've helped over 1 million businesses. Businesses like yours save time and money. How? You access to the USPS and UPS services that you need right from your computer any time,

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Just go to stamps.com, click the microphone at the top of the page, and enter the code LORE. Stamps.com. Never go to the post office again. Spiritualism was so rampant in the 19th century, you couldn't throw a rock without hitting someone who claimed to speak to the dead, or would fall into a trance and write as though the ghosts themselves were operating their hands. So many stories of spiritualism were eventually found out as nothing but magic tricks, illusions

of light and sound to convince audiences that the other side wasn't so far away. Nowadays, when something that amazing happens, we're skeptical. It's not that we don't want to believe, we do, but we're afraid to put our faith in it for fear of being let down. We're worried it's being done for fame or money, but what happens when someone who doesn't need the money or fame suddenly develops special gifts? Is it more believable then? And to answer that question, we need to talk about Hildegard.

Hildegard was born in Bermansheim, Germany, in 1098. She was the 10th child of wealthy noble parents, and was sent to live with a nun, Yuta Bann-Spanheim, when she was 8 years old. Yuta cared for the girl and taught her in a small cloister attached to the monastery there about 66 miles northwest of her hometown. When Hildegard was old enough, she chose to follow in her mentor's footsteps, joining the cloister to become a Benedictine nun. But that wasn't the start of her holy journey.

No, that had begun years earlier when she was only 3 years old, because that's when she had her first divine vision. Hildegard herself described the experience as a heavenly light which made my soul tremble. The visions weren't rare or regular. They appeared at any time, day or night, while she was awake and alert. One vision was described as a great star, splendid and beautiful, which followed a bunch of other falling stars southward. Suddenly, the stars were gone, having transformed into black coals and disappearing into a void

until they could no longer be seen. Despite these miraculous visions, Hildegard kept them to herself. She worried that she wouldn't be taken seriously in a religion dominated by powerful men. It's also possible that she didn't want to stand out, choosing instead to remain humble and discreet like other nuns. Unfortunately, Hildegard's gift came at a high cost. She was beset by pain so severe it rendered her paralyzed and bedridden. She believed that God was punishing her for refusing to share her visions.

Finally, when she was 42, God sent down a vision that she couldn't ignore. He commanded her to write down what she was seeing and hearing. It was after she had done, as he had asked, that the pain she suffered from for so long finally relented. Over the next decade, a monk named Volmar assisted her with writing down her visions. First, she would scribble them down on a wax tablet she rested on her knee, which she would then pass to Volmar to transcribe on department. The visions were compiled into a book called the Skivias, the first of a trilogy.

Now that others knew that she was capable of, words started to spread as far as the Vatican. Pope Eugene III read pieces of Skivias and encouraged her to keep going. This was on top of the other work that she had been doing. Hildegard was a busy bee, simultaneously working on a collection of musical compositions, a nine-volume medical text, and a mystery play. She could do it all, then became famous during a time when women were often discouraged from learning or moving up through society. She was something of an iconoclast, but was she for real?

Had Hildegard truly received visions of light from God, a number of explanations have emerged over the years. In 1917, for example, historian Charles Singer posthumously diagnosed her with something called scintillating scotoma, which would have caused her to hallucinate light patterns. A Dr. Oliver Sachs expanded on Singer's diagnosis by writing that scotoma is one of the most common features of migraine headaches. Many thought that it was even more common than the headaches themselves, and claimed that they were caused by, and I quote, when an individual confronts essentially unsolvable

problems. And it's important to note that Hildegard grew up in a time when being a female theologian, cosmologist, and thinker was frowned upon and even shunned within the church. Existing as a female polymath in a man's world would have made her problem seem unsolvable, and then exacerbate her condition. Robert Newman, Hildegard's biographer, however, believed her visions were actually a tool that she used to function within that patriarchal society, allowing her to feel empowered and able to advocate for herself.

We may never know the truth, but in the end, the truth pales in comparison to Hildegard herself. She was one of the greatest Renaissance women and mystics the world had ever seen. To this day, she is revered by feminist scholars, esoteric practitioners, composers, holistic healers, and others for the work that she did. And after her death on September 17th of 1179, she was venerated as a saint. It's said that as she lay on her deathbed, her Benedictine sisters stood watch over her in her final moments.

They looked up as they did so and saw something strange. Two great streams of light appeared in the sky overhead, crossing directly over Hildegard's room. A vision? Perhaps. Or maybe just a thank you to the woman who had done mysterious things in more ways than one. This episode of Lore was researched, written, and produced by me, Aaron Mankey, with additional

research help from Jenna Rose Nethercotts and writing help from Harry Marx and music from Chad Lawson. Lore is much more than just a podcast. There's a book series available in bookstores and online and two seasons of the television show on Amazon Prime Video. Check them both out if you want more lore in your life. You can find more information about both of those things and so much more over at LorePodcast.com. You can also follow this show on YouTube, Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram.

Just search for Lore Podcast, all one word, and then click that follow button. And when you do, say hi. I like it when people say hi. And as always, thanks for listening.