From Far Below




It had to have been April when our minds were critically expanded.  We had been in the Yukon only eleven months and had survived our first winter in a small cabin on the shores of a remote lake. We moved  to the most isolated location that my father could  conceivably find. Though he was in his early thirties, he was wise beyond his years in more ways than I can count even now and he had witnessed  more than the average person. As a curious mind, he emotionally and genetically had a profound influence on me and I realized that I could take my father at his word with anything he specifically addressed. At the young age of five, he in effect, thought  for me and did that very well. At the tender age of three, I began to listen to his stories and learn from them. What I learned was what most people never accept in their lifetime. I kid you not. There were some things that no one else  would ever talk about but we did, not without control however and caution of excess. There are some things that should be only mentioned and not overly consumed.

Over in the corner of the log cabin, my mother and sister carefully collaborated. At the table with heads together, they might well have been into a knitting or crocheting project.  I was not incredibly interested in what they were doing anymore than they were in me. I was in my own world. It was a casual spring evening and the ice was still hanging on the lake by a very thin thread . It was what we called needle ice for the obvious reason that it looked like needles falling apart into the waters.  When it separated, it would float around in circles causing a chiming sound that could even be heard for miles in calm weather. It was pretty calm that evening. We still had some snow in the yard that was crystallizing and the sun had just gone down below the horizon.  Dinner was over and  everyone was pretty sedated by now.

As my father sat with his cup of coffee, he studied the natural limited view through our double plastic window. Facing the near perfect north.  He was in quiet calculation for some time. Just staring through that large hole in the wall he had  cut with his chainsaw in the fall. His brow was furrowed some and  I noticed he became increasingly fixated  on something. He was not just having random distant thoughts.  I walked over and he was watching a star near the top of the massive mountain range. A distance of two miles across the lake. I could not  really see anything that far because of the plastic and because of my age. I did not have his focus.  I quietly teetered on his right shoulder, lending him my interest and blurried eye for only the split few seconds before he jumped suddenly to his feet, excluding all previous notions of him being inexcitable. This was a rare instance for him. It all happened so fast and without any warning. One moment he is sitting so incredibly still and the next moment, he is yelling to us to get outside and he is already half way out the door.  As though  there was an earthquake or something equally as paramount. I knew what it was because he had talked about it to us for as long as I could remember. Not all the time but at least once a year and given my age I had heard at least three of those statements from him. I did not have to go around the world to know that it wasn’t flat because he told me. Neither of my parents figured it was flat because they had in this most unusual way went around the world once on a single occasion when they were first married. A few moments on a lonesome road. Only my mother was reluctant to talk about it much.

We could hear this peculiar sound as we headed out the door and then my mother picked me up so I did not miss any of the action and as well, a protective thing.  Our minds were spinning with the display that we believe was being performed specifically for us. There was oscillating, and oscillating was all you could hear at such an incredible speed, that you almost could not hear it. Yet at the same time, it seemed very loud. It was almost dark out and the blue reflection on the metal surface proved almost blinding. I tried to count the small round windows. I remember looking inside to try and see a glimpse of something, anything, but there was nothing, just blinding light as white as winter snow. I know there was somewhere between eleven and thirteen windows on the side that faced us and it could not have been rotating because the windows were not spinning. No streak of light but very obvious windows. Those windows and the space between those windows remained in my focus, not as in a blur to my eyes.  It was beyond our knowledge, how the thing stayed in the air, as it had no wings. It was like a fluorescent dinner plate in a furious state of internal rotation, as though it had an inner and then outer shell, the inner causing the oscillation. The out stationary. Despite the fact that we all had an incredible viewing of the thing, it was actually moving at an amazing speed, a speed where we should have seen almost nothing but a streak of blue and white fluorescence. Had our focus been diminished we would have seen so much less….we might have seen nothing and only heard it.

I am not sure how we slept that night. I cannot speak for them but I do realize that the fear of such phenomenons had not set in at that very stage in my life. I was young and curious more than cautious. I was naive. That I was too young to read and study, was a good thing. As this was the third close encounter of a second degree that my immediate family had witnessed in less than ten years, makes me think that we were being favored by forces from far beyond, yet from far below. At least singled out. Who would be the ones to believe this and who would not, did not matter, we all knew that these depths of reality did reside in the far corners of our conscious.

Sighting 1977

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