Do you have an urge to travel in a direction you don’t understand? Have you heard a voice telling you to go this way and that? Do you listen?
Recently, I listened to that voice… well, I normally do. It always takes me to beautiful places. Doug, the juniper gnome staying with me for the next year, and I went to the local rock store. Not a metaphysical shop or crystal shop, a real rock hound place full of natural stones that have never been polished.
I picked up some tektite, meteorite, and fossils for gifts. Upon leaving, I wondered, Where do I go next?
I heard, “To the waterfalls.”
“I don’t want to go to Niagara.” For several weeks, I’ve been debating a trip to the falls a few hours from my house. Doug has never seen such vast amounts of flowing water, and it’s been a long time since I’ve been there myself.
I figure, What the hell. I’ll drive in that direction and see where it takes me. But I made it clear to my guides I didn’t want to go to the falls.
After I filled up my gas, I got into the car, turned on the radio, and found a song called “Waterfalls” playing.
Then I followed their directions. Go here. Go there. Turn left. Turn right. I found myself at a place not far from my house, a park I’ve wanted to visit for quite some time since moving back.
Right at the entrance of the park, there was a fifty plus foot roaring waterfall after the rain came.
But only one. Where were the “waterfalls”?
I continued to listen to my guides. They took me down some paths and trails. Walking along the river, I found…
Two waterfalls higher than the first pouring over the side of the ridge beside each other.
My intuition, my guides, brought me to a beautiful place full of magic and wonder. Little did I know, I’d find more here.
I’ve been back twice before today to do what I call “water magic”. Sticking my hands into water that’s freezing cold in the middle of winter, I perform some rituals, say some words, and hope my fingers work when I get back to the car.
They never do.
Don’t do this at home. It can be dangerous. I trust myself enough not to destroy my hands because I’ve been doing this for years. Water is healing for me… cold water… freezing water… is magic!
It’s an exchange of energy.
Today I went to the falls with Doug and a bag of nuts and berries to offer the local spirits. We visited the hollowed out red oaks to give the Fae some food before entering the river area. They thanked me. I headed on.
Walking to the river, I found the tiny water spirit who hides under plants, blows bubbles, and floats debris to get my attention. I pulled out the bag of nuts and berries, tossing them into the middle of the strong river currents to offer the multiple spirits controlling the energies.
There are three to this river.
They accepted. I stuck my hands in, performed my rituals, and froze to the point of excruciating pain.
It was worth it.
Heading back after performing my magic, I passed the red oaks. A Fae being stood there.
I walk over.
“Go into the trees. I have something to give you.”
I’m six foot two inches tall. My body fits inside these hollow trees, which are still alive and well, if that gives you any idea as to the size of the hollows. Standing in the hollow, the Fae hands me a ball of energy. I don’t feel anything happen when I pick it up in my right hand, but it merges with my being.
Thanking him, I travel on my way.
What was that?
“You’ll experience something magical. A gift is on its way.”
Okay. I’m used to the cryptic clues and them not sharing the details. Shortly after leaving, I completely forget about the incident because of my focus on living in the now and experiencing the forest. My mind goes to the beautiful fungal growths, the telepathy growing stronger with a friend, and other aspects of my being that are experienced in the here and now.
I walk the entire trail and see some downed trees.
A voice says, “Don’t go back there.”
But… they know me. I see a trail humans haven’t walked on in a while… I’m going down it for the natural experience. Doug and I walk down the trail to a swamped in area too mucky for me to walk through. I turn to walk back, but I feel something watching me.
I walk back down the trail and cross the downed trees.
A deep voice says, “Put those there to keep whoomons away.”
It says humans like whoo-mons. The words are recognizable. It’s not the first time I’ve heard them.
It says, “Don’t trust whoomons.”
“You can trust me.”
The creature watches me, but there’s a problem.
I feel two of them.
One behind me.
One about a thousand feet or so against the ridge in front of me.
Or was it just one?
My mind gets confused. There’s been a lot going on. Telepathic exchanges with people, upgrades, downloads, all kinds of things that tend to break the 3D brain.
“Who are you?”
“You are a friend?”
I can feel the voice looking into my energetic being.
It says, “Oh, you help us. You work with us. Build trust first.” The being is skeptical as it looks into me. I feel the emotional damage we’ve caused them.
An image appears in my mind, walking through the trees and pushing through the limbs. I can feel it behind me. Not far as I walk away.
Frightening if I wasn’t used to the experience already.
I keep walking, making sure to respect the area and keep the conversation going in a very friendly manner.
It says, “Whoomons aren’t nice here. We keep them away.”
“Are you… wait. Are there two of you? One there.” I point far into the distance. “And you’re behind me. Two Sasquatch.”
“Not two. Many.” The creature nods towards the other side of the river. “More there. A clan lives here. We protect here.”
I feel another on the other side. These Sasquatch are different from Kún Lai and the others. Kún Lai was big. Her protector, even bigger. She was brown with long hair and more human-like facial features. The protector had an ape-like face with red, menacing eyes. If you felt him, he was a kind soul, just worried about the actions of a scared human against Kún Lai and the young one they brought with them.
These new Sasquatches were easily a foot taller, solid black, and extremely hairy. Although their chests seem to be bare in spots around the breasts.
They called themselves “Sasquatch”. I’ve met many over the years. Almost ten. Only one has referred to herself as Bigfoot. The others seem to take offense to it.
As this Sasquatch follows me, we continue our conversation.
I ask, “What’s your name?”
“And the other.”
“She is Sootee.” It was pronounced “Sue-tay”, but translated with that letter order in my mind.
He asks, “Will you come speak to us? We don’t speak with whoomons.”
“Maybe in the summer I can camp.”
“You camp? You come sooner?”
“It’s too cold. But if you find me a spot for a hammock or a tent that is secluded—”
“We find spot. Build trust first. You camp by river?”
“I would love to.”
“We find you spot. Away from whoomons. We protect you. Build trust. Then you come.”
I walk along the trail.
He says, “Maybe you see Sky People.”
I see an image of a disc diving towards the river, flying down and hiding itself under the high bridges of the highway.
He says, “Sometimes they come.”
I tell him, “Thank you. I’ll definitely be back, and not just to camp. Sooner to say hello, sit, and bring an offering.”
“I’ll bring you nuts and berries. Unless you want something else.”
“Will you bring bananas?”
Caught off guard, I’m kind of surprised. “What? Really?”
“We like bananas. We don’t get them often.”
I feel like they’ve either taken bananas from people or found them lying places. Somehow, they know bananas in an area that has little food access around a river without stores close by.
I say, “Sure. I’ll bring you bananas.”
There’s an excitement in Hetoe. “You come back. We talk.” At this point, there was much more to the conversation. Details that aren’t important and some that were lost in time. But he knows what I do. “You can write about us. Tell people we are here.”
“I can, and I will. Will you tell me when the best time is? Portal, energy, and such.”
“We tell you. You come back.”
My new friend is extremely happy. I notice him moving his hand as he talks. He’s signing the whole time, as though a friend close by is watching but cannot hear him. There was an empathy in those signs. He signed with gentleness and emotion for someone he cared for deeply, hoping they’d understand.
“Why do you sign?”
“So they see. Sometimes they distracted.” I didn’t understand what Hetoe meant. Maybe there is a Sasquatch who needs to see sign language. Maybe there was another being, someone else incapable of telepathy watching Hetoe’s movements. Hopefully one day I’ll understand.
As I say my goodbyes, I leave.
I walk out, leave the rest of my offerings, and pass the red oaks. The Fae being waves to me.
“See. You found magic.”
Whether you believe in Sasquatch or not, I’ve seen many. Some are even friends. That’s my reality. Living with gnomes, walking with Sasquatch in the woods, and meeting extraterrestrials on a daily basis. I met an ET last night, one in an enormous ship flying over Jefferson, but that’s a story for another day.
It’s my reality.
They are real.
They are here.
Listen to that voice guiding you around the world. Respect the world. Give offerings. Perform rituals, even the simple offerings of respect, to gain trust.
Maybe you’ll find yourself experiencing magic one day.
Maybe… just maybe… you’ll see a Sasquatch walk up and greet you in the woods, inviting you to camp, talk, and meet his clan.
And if you see a man walking through the woods with a cluster of bananas in hand… you know why.
He’s feeding something.
Something in the woods.
Something that wants to be known.
Something we should call friend.
Vending at conventions, I meet a lot of interesting people with concerns about the work I do. Some believe me. Some don’t. But I never ask for their belief. I tell them about my experience and what I’ve been told as it’s handed down to me. My friends go unquestioned
Hotels are public places for travelers to use as needed, but humans forget they aren’t the only travelers. Every time I go to a hotel, I make a new friend. It’s as though the travel outside of my home brings me to the right place at the right moment to
Doug and I are swashbuckling adventurers who explore unknown lands and conquer all we cross. We don’t have swords, gold, or ships. I can’t grow a beard. Doug has a magnificent beard, but he only stands eight inches tall. At over six feet myself, we make quite the fearsome duo…
“Can’t everyone just get along?” I’m sure most of us remember movies, cartoons, and other media using that line from time to time, often as a joke to alleviate some struggle in the story. Today, a large portion of our population is fighting. There are disagreements all over the board.