Sublime and/or Spiritual Experiences of the Natural World..

[Forest Denizen]

Posted by RunningDeer (here)
...I was directed to go to my office which was two floors down. I pulled open the computer keyboard shelf and there was a feather. On the “Illusions" cover was a feather. It was an important turning point in the story of a teacher that died and floated a feather onto to the grieving student.

I preserved the precious gift in a transparent baseball envelop, and tucked it in my power bag. It brought me strength and assurance that Michael was but a thought away. A couple of days later the feather gift was gone. It’s purpose was served...

Posted by Valerie Villars (here)
...There was this most beautiful, bright light; the brightest I had ever seen and yet it didn't hurt my eyes. There was nothing but this light.

At that moment, the phone next to my head rang and woke me up. It was one of my son's best friends calling.

To this day, I believe she kept me from crossing over, by calling and waking me up.

Paula and Valerie, I am awed by your strength and the love that you both pour forth every day. As Avid said, we are so fortunate to have you here in Avalon. Nothing can prepare us for the death of our loved ones and I can't imagine the pain of losing one's own child.

It is fascinating how the loss of a loved one is often accompanied by wonderful synchronicities.. I lost my mother in October and the event was not without these unusual experiences. I've been meaning to write about it and will do so soon..

Much Love and Respect to you both

[RunningDeer]

Posted by Forest Denizen (here)
Paula and Valerie, I am awed by your strength and the love that you both pour forth every day. As Avid said, we are so fortunate to have you here in Avalon. Nothing can prepare us for the death of our loved ones and I can't imagine the pain of losing one's own child.

It is fascinating how the loss of a loved one is often accompanied by wonderful synchronicities.. I lost my mother in October and the event was not without these unusual experiences. I've been meaning to write about it and will do so soon..

Much Love and Respect to you both

Thank you, Ken.
Sorry for the loss of your Mom.
I look forward to your experiences.

Posted by Valerie Villars (here)
Paula dear, I love you with all my heart and soul. And your son Michael. I'll bet he and Dustin are high fiving each other right now; happy that we understand the impermanence of death.

Our two guys are very brave souls for having crossed over first.

Yup.

Sending the Love Wave back your way, Valerie.

[Sandy123]

15 years ago my husband and I were on vacation in the badlands of Wyoming. When we get to a good area he goes one way and I go the other. I love the peace of being being alone and the quiet of nature. I was in this bowl with hills when I heard this sound "beeeee", so I look up to see an antelope standing there looking at me. I just think how cool and I say back "beeeee" and the antelope says it back to me again. I was amazed that the antelope and I were communicating. So this goes on for 15 - 20 minutes both of taking turns saying "beeeee". I start walking around again looking for petrified wood and the antelope just stays there about 300 yards away. About an hour later my husband comes by and the antelope is still there, he tells me; the antelope has a fawn near by. Sure enough he finds it and we left the area so mom could bee with her baby again. The fawn was laying down being still like they're supposed to do. It was a very special experience. I have walked upon many rattlesnakes also.

Yes Project Avalon has really special and lovely people here!!! I'm blown away by your spirit.

[Forest Denizen]

Rugged, windswept, stunningly beautiful, the island of San Nicolas lies more than 60 miles off the coast of Southern California. The most remote of the Channel Islands, it is owned by the US Navy and closed to the public. I was lucky enough to live and work on the island one winter and spring in the 1990s, researching the birds that occur there.

The island is dotted with pockets of “forest” composed of an improbable daisy relative, the giant coreopsis, where you feel you’ve just stepped onto the set of the old TV show, The Land of the Giants! The air perfumed by the roiling sea and drifts of lavender-colored lupines, you might encounter here and there, the tiny island fox, a species native to the Channel Islands and the size of a small house-cat.

The foxes on San Nicolas do not view humans as dangerous and are relatively tame. It’s believed they were brought as pets by the native Tongva people, who first settled the island at least 10,000 years ago. The Nicoleños, as they later became known (what they called themselves is unknown), lived on the island until the 1800s when they ran afoul of sea otter hunters after the animals’ valuable pelts.

Following a massacre in 1811, the Nicoleños dwindled until being removed to the mainland in 1835.
All but one that is..

One lone woman remained on the island and lived there, alone, for the next 18 years.

Finally picked up and brought to Santa Barbara in 1853, the Lone Woman of San Nicolas (baptized Juana María shortly before her burial - she never revealed her true name) died just seven weeks later of dysentery. Her story became the basis for the classic children’s novel, Island of the Blue Dolphins.

San Nicolas is littered with archaeological sites and roamed by the ghosts of its previous inhabitants. You can feel them palpably in certain locations. They are with you, watching you..

One cloudless day in early spring, I had to check on a huge colony of breeding seabirds, Brandt’s cormorants. However, the area was designated off limits, unless you had business being there, due not only to the breeding seabirds, but the presence of a sacred native site, the Cave of the Whales.

At the edge of the sea, close by the breeding cormorants, the cave had been hollowed out of the rock over eons of constant battering by the ocean surf. I had always wanted to see the cave and an archaeologist had always wanted to see the seabird colony, so we went together, I escorting her to the birds and she escorting me to the cave.

Birds fussed and scolded us as we passed but they were doing well. Then, as we approached the cave, we fell silent.. struck by a sense of sadness.. and loss.. Once the site of profound and ancient knowledge.. wonder filled ritual.. now lost and abandoned.

We entered.. reverent. Daylight reflecting off the ocean’s surface splashed patterns of constantly moving light and shadow, revealing pictographs of fish and a killer whale. The changing light served to animate the carvings, bringing them to life! Mysterious hatch marks and lines covered another wall.

So as not to bother the birds again, we took a short cut back to the truck. We climbed up the back side of a large dune, an ancient midden, now covered by the drifting sands. These giant middens, scattered across the island were, essentially, enormous refuse piles composed largely of giant abalone shells, now entirely covered by sand. A number of these middens stretched for 100 meters or more, and could be 30 meters wide by 10 high or more.

Summiting the dune, we were greeted by a sight I will never forget. There at our feet, just below the crest, lay a largely exposed human skeleton! Just recently exposed by the winds, the skeleton, likely that of a young woman judging by her pelvis and teeth, lay stretched out on her back, mouth agape. And, lying on the surface of the sand next to her skull, was a beautiful and intricately designed fish hook, skillfully carved out of abalone. She had died perhaps hundreds of years ago.

We paid our respects and left her there undisturbed. Where she remained. We told not a soul.

[RunningDeer]

Two Last Feathers

Feathers continued to come my way after Michael’s death. (see part of the collection below) One example was about a week after his passing, my sister, Jill and I parked in a parking garage. Several hours later, by my side of the car on the cement floor there were two feathers that were the same shape, size and in the configuration of X marks the spot.

In order for me to move on, I needed two feathers: a humming bird and an eagle feather. It was six months after he passed, I went for a visit to Jill’s place in California. This one morning, I stared out the window when a humming bird fluttered in one spot long enough for me to see. And when I wondered, he shifted a few inches over so I could get a longer look.

Several days later, we headed to Las Vegas to hook up with our parents. Jill and I walked around. And as we passed the Luxor Hotel & Casino and I had knowing to go to a particular display case in the hotel. I pointed to an old Egyptian coin and told my sister there’s something about that one. A sales person came over and asked if we'd like to see it. I’m half listening, and he turns it over and says, ”There’s an eagle on the back.” My sister’s eye went wide-wide. Without asking the price, I said, “I’ll take it.”

The last part of the eagle story was I kept it in my jean vest pocket. Just weeks after returning from the trip, I lost it. I recalled putting it into the pocket in the morning, by evening it was gone. It must have dropped out when I bent down. I was okay because it served as the last piece I needed to find peace.

Three Sided Feather Bottle

♡

[Forest Denizen]

Moon Over the Himalayas

I traveled to Nepal in 1991 shortly after my divorce. We had been together for ten years. She had followed me out to L.A. after I dropped out of college. I had been floundering in school and had decided that paying for a private college under the circumstances was a waste of money.

We were young and wild and immortal. All the guys had been after her but for some unknown reason she had chosen me. She was an artist.. beautiful, fiery.. a dance major and ceramicist. We had always been a popular couple, fun to be around.

She was also bipolar. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.. many of the great artists and thinkers throughout history were likely bipolar.

After a year or so of floating around and getting into trouble, we decided to clean up our acts, go back east and finish college. She actually talked me into it. After a couple of years, we got married. I excelled in college and wanted to continue on to grad school. She didn’t.

She wanted to work. Earn money. More money. She had gradually and tragically become terrified of the artist and the fire inside of her and fought desperately to dampen her bipolar nature. To be “normal.” We grew apart and finally went our separate ways.

But I found that over the course of being together, living as a couple, being known as a duo, always invited as a pair, I had lost track of something. I had forgotten who I was. That’s when I decided I needed to travel to Nepal.

I had always been drawn there and went as a way of removing myself from all that was outwardly familiar to me in this lifetime. And stripped of the trappings of my recent past, I hoped to remember who I was at the core of my being. The essential “Me.” The timeless “I.”

I sold something that I had inherited from my grandfather and ended up with a little more than I needed for the trip. He was an armchair traveler and I knew he would have approved.

Kathmandu is an ancient and intoxicating city. I instantly felt at home, stirred by a feeling of familiarity. The smoke from countless wood-stoked fires scented the air and mixed with the incense from shops and homes.

A winding maze of small alleys and unpaved streets lined with four- and five-story structures that loomed above, casting shadow that left one in darkness even during the day. And everywhere, small shrines to various gods and “saints” spoke to me, asking, “Do you remember?”

But it was the wilds of northern Nepal that I was headed for. Langtang National Park lies north of Kathmandu along the Tibetan border. I reached the beginning of my trek after a day’s journey by truck. I would spend two weeks and climb to around 15,000 feet.

It was autumn and I passed several terraced farms on the way up. Everything was about ready to harvest.. millet, barley, and what I took to be amaranth.. seed heads brown and full.

The trek followed the Langtang River which ran wild beside and at times below the trail, whitewater cascading its way downhill, rushing, twisting, exploding past rocks and boulders. We hiked through forests of mixed deciduous and evergreen trees. Moss and wet leaves adorned the trail.

On and on, up and up we hiked. At one point, directly across the river and at my elevation, in a small glade dappled with sunlight, I watched a troop of grey langur monkeys go about their daily activities. Resting, grooming one another, youngsters playing..

For days I climbed ever upward. And before long, I reached the tree line, above which, only grasses and herbs and widely scattered low growing shrubs persisted. The trail snaked through valleys and along ridgelines, and here and there would appear a remote group of low stone structures.. living quarters, a barn, an outbuilding or two.

Most were abandoned for the oncoming winter but one or two still supported a few yak herders and their animals. The last holdouts from summer when herders bring their animals to these higher elevations to graze on the rich grasses that have grown up following the snow melt.

I trekked for several days, up, up, across treeless slopes, through rock-strewn meadows surrounded by jagged snow-covered mountain peaks. Scattered widely along the trail, small isolated guest houses offered smoky respite from the climb. A woodstove was always burning, and tea and dahl were usually available for a small price, as was a primitive bunk. This was how I spent most nights.

Ancient Buddhist stupas adorned with prayer flags and long low mani-stone walls carved with inscriptions appeared out of the mists along the trail as I trudged ever onward.

Finally, I reached the little village of Kyanjin Gompa which sits nestled in a mountain valley at a little under 13,000 feet. Tired but happy and feeling fitter than I had in a while, I could explore the surrounding heights using the guest house as a base of exploration.

The night of my arrival there was a full moon and a celebration was held in the small and ancient temple on a hill nearby. I and several other trekkers were invited to attend. Lit by butter lamps and reverberating with the chants of resident monks accompanied by a cacophony of cymbals, rapidly beating small drums, and horns. Locals danced in a whirling circle and drank from a communal jug of traditional distilled rakshi.

Later, still vibrating from the energy of the chanting monks, the clanging cymbals, the beating drums, the blaring horns, I returned along a steep and treacherous path to my bunk where I fell into a restless sleep.

I soon awoke, however. It was around 3 am and, but for the gentle snoring of the owner of the guest house, asleep on a blanket by the stove, all was silent. It was dark inside and I decided to go for a walk alone under the light of the full moon.

I strolled outside and up the valley, awash in ghostly pale shades of grey and white. Deep shadows loomed and snaked across the valley floor. It was cold and my breath hung about me. The ice and snow-encrusted mountain peaks surrounded as I turned in a circle, ancient sentinels, watching as eons flowed inexorably past.

When I stopped and again gazed up the valley, there, not 40 meters from me, a lone mountain wolf, a dhole, bathed in moonlight, stood watching me. Elated, I studied him in wonder. We regarded each other, calm, still. I thanked him. He blinked and continued on his way. It was then that I remembered who I was.

[Shadowman]

Hi Ken,

You have an amazing talent for writing. What a sublime description of awakening you shared of your encounter with the Himalayan Dhole.

Once, during an extended satori which lasted a few weeks, I had a similiar experience. I was standing in the front yard of a rented house in Brisbane when a beautiful butterfly flitted past my eyes. I watched silently as it flew randomly from flower to flower alighting briefly on each. It then doubled back to a flower about 10 feet away where it stopped. I intuitively felt a deep connection and held out my hand with the palm facing up.

The butterfly then flew onto my hand whereupon we stood silently gazing into each others eyes. I sensed a deep and profound intelligence from this perfect tiny creature as a wave of love swept over me and we dissolved into one. I subsequently came across the story of Chuang Tzu dreaming he was a butterfly, which became part of his awakening journey, and which will now always remind me of this seemingly ordinary, yet magical encounter,

Source: https://youtube.com/watch?v=VRhZlyI7944

Namaste
tim

[Shadowman]

Hi again Ken,

The following is from a book I wrote, called The Real Life Adventures of Shadowman (SM). I haven't decided whether or not to publish it yet.

Chapter 10 - The Prince, the Rebel, the Dolphins and a Mystery

SM had befriended a genuine Prince, and a genuine Rebel. The three of them had found a stunningly beautiful location just south of the village, in a National Park, where there was a natural rock pool. It was a great place to just chill and hangout. It was fairly isolated and the path leading from the dirt roadway was barely visible, so there were rarely other people there.

On two occasions when they visited the location they were to encounter rare and unusual phenomena. The first was a spectacle of nature, while the second, was something far more wonderful and mysterious.

The previous night there had been storms in the area, and the swell was pumping. SM, the Prince and the Rebel decided to head out to their spot to watch the giant waves smash into the rocky shoreline. They made their way down the secluded forest path, which obscured the coastline until you emerged from the trees. As they did so the entire grassy hill leading down to the rocks came into view. The entire hill was covered in a layer of white foam about 1-2 feet deep.

As the waves smashed into the rocks, an updraft sweeping in from the ocean to the East, lifted the foam about 60-80 feet into the air. It then fell down onto the hill like snow, creating the effect of a magical winter wonderland. We all thought that this was one of the most amazing things we had seen. The Prince commented that this would be a hard act to beat for our favourite spot, and we all laughed and agreed.

We were all dead wrong.

The next time we went out was a few weeks later. As we arrived we noted their was a camper van parked near the entrance to the track. An elderly couple were standing near the van, one of whom was holding a camera, pointed at the sky.

We got out and looked up to see what he was photographing. Sitting in the sky just adjacent to some clouds was a glowing sphere. It would have been at an altitude of at least a thousand metres or three thousand feet. SM estimated it’s diameter to be at least 50 feet. It looked like a glowing rainbow condensed into a ball. It hung majestically motionless as we all watched it for several minutes, chatting away excitedly. It was difficult to tell if it was a solid object glowing, or just a translucent glowing ball, as there was nothing directly behind it.

We then went down to the rocks where we stayed for a few hours. During that time the cloud formations shifted further away, but the Rainbow Sphere just hung there, in exactly the same spot. SM intuitively sensed that whatever this was, it was benevolent and certainly no threat to any of them. In fact, SM felt that it emanated a kind of higher intelligence and love. It was still hanging there when we left.

It was only a few years later that SM had a possible insight into the Rainbow Sphere. At the time he was living in a city and had travelled alone to the spot for a three day meditation retreat. After setting up a small tent, an esky full of fruit and muesli bars, and a folding meditation chair, SM settled into the first days meditation. He sat facing the ocean.

Now you’re probably not going to believe what happened next so allow SM a short preamble. SM loves all animals, but like everyone, has a particular affinity with certain species, for whatever reason. These include Tigers, Eagles, Wolves and Dolphins.

SM had had the pleasure of swimming with wild dolphins at a local snorkelling spot. He had also been amazed to see two of them leap out in front of him once on the same wave he had been bodysurfing. This may seem silly but SM would sometimes go underwater and attempt to imitate the high pitched squeaks they made to call them. What he loved most about them was their sense of pure, purposeless joy and fun.

Anyway, SM had been meditating for a few hours and was in a state that could only be described as euphoric. He was again doing Vipassana, with his eyes mostly closed and focused on the tip of his nose. He then sensed a sort of telepathic communication of great joy. He opened his eyes to see a large pod of dolphins heading northwards up the coastline about 150 feet from the shore. SM stood up, squeaked as loud as he could and waved both his hands in greeting. As SM was waving his hands, three of the dolphins lifted their tails out of the water and waved their tale fins up and down, imitating SM’s gesture.

SM now sensed inuitively that the Rainbow Sphere he had seen years earlier was not there to visit humans, but more likely to communicate with the Cetaceans.

SM has also swum inadvertently with a Great White Shark off Hayman Island and a Bronze Whaler at Duranbah Beach. While SM has immense respect and love for these predatory marvels of the ocean, he got a distinctly different vibe from them compared to the dolphins!


Shadowman now knows all species are part of the great circle of life, and are a part of GS’s grand plan. Even, perhaps, those further up the food chain from humans.

Shadowman now knows that if we exploit and treat other species cruelly, such as is the case with chicken cages, veal crates and factory farming; well - as they say, what goes around comes around.


Reference Song - The Circle of Life - Elton John
Reference Song -- Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft- The Carpenters

[Forest Denizen]

Posted by tim (here)
Hi Ken,

You have an amazing talent for writing. What a sublime description of awakening you shared of your encounter with the Himalayan Dhole.

Once, during an extended satori which lasted a few weeks, I had a similiar experience. I was standing in the front yard of a rented house in Brisbane when a beautiful butterfly flitted past my eyes. I watched silently as it flew randomly from flower to flower alighting briefly on each. It then doubled back to a flower about 10 feet away where it stopped. I intuitively felt a deep connection and held out my hand with the palm facing up.

The butterfly then flew onto my hand whereupon we stood silently gazing into each others eyes. I sensed a deep and profound intelligence from this perfect tiny creature as a wave of love swept over me and we dissolved into one. I subsequently came across the story of Chuang Tzu dreaming he was a butterfly, which became part of his awakening journey, and which will now always remind me of this seemingly ordinary, yet magical encounter,

Source: https://youtube.com/watch?v=VRhZlyI7944

Namaste
tim

Tim,

I want to express my deepest gratitude for your kind words and your wonderful contributions to this thread.

Though I thanked you on your message board, I felt an overwhelming desire to thank you here publicly. Your thread, “Enlightenment - A direct, succinct account of what occurs...,” is an amazing resource and truly inspiring, and your ability to convey thoughts, information, and truths is something to aspire to.

I will follow up with my own butterfly encounter anon.

With love,

Ken

[Forest Denizen]

Many years ago, back when I was in the flower of my youth, when I was wild and fearless and immortal, I embarked on a journey to Pakistan. “Land of the Pure,” the Indus River, the ancient city of Mohenjo-daro, bordered on the south by the Arabian Sea and on the north by the Himalayas.

Perhaps not as random as it might at first sound. I traveled with my best friend at the time, shortly after dropping out of college. His father was stationed in Pakistan, working for the U.S. Foreign Service. The year was 1980.

I later returned to college, motivated to attend the classes that I registered for, something I had previously found to be too restrictive and rather a bore. We were as brothers.. bulletproof.. foolhardy one might say. Two long-haired adventurers fortunate to have not ended up languishing in a Pakistani prison. But I digress..

We traveled for a month all throughout the southern half of the country, through the Indus River Valley, Balochistan, the Sindh Desert, had all kinds of truly remarkable experiences, encountered many beautiful and highly exotic landscapes, warm and generous people, curious animals..

We wandered through ancient lands, where, particularly at night, there was no way to discern what century it was. No electricity, absolutely no radios or televisions, the small huts lit only by oil lantern.. people telling stories, laughing.. much as they had for thousands of years. It was magical.

In some villages that we came to, the people thought I was some sort of holy man. Perhaps it was the round, wire-rimmed spectacles I wore at the time. I was honored that they would perceive me in that way but I, of course, always assured them that I was no such thing.

Groups of wide-eyed children would surround us, accompany us, practicing their English. “Good day!” They followed in our wake. Many of the younger children were fascinated by our skin, never before having seen a “white” person (tanned and dusty though we were).

I could easily write an entire book on our journeys throughout this ancient land, now all but forbidden to westerners, but for the moment, I will recount an episode that was one of joy.

Near the end of our journeys, exhausted and sated, we alighted on the coast.. a remote white sandy beach on the Arabian Sea. No tourist had likely set foot there in quite some time. We stayed in a miniature marble palace, paying almost nothing for several nights. The structure resembled a tiny Taj Mahal and consisted of a few small bedrooms, a common or “living” room, a primitive kitchen and even more primitive “bathroom.”

The beds were no more than wood frames strung with rope and everything else save for a small table and a few chairs consisted of aged white marble. White marble floors, walls, doorways, ceiling. The ocean beckoned from across the sand, maybe 30 feet from the doorway. Several other similar structures sat widely scattered along the beach, all empty and apparently abandoned.

The days were long and hot and bathed in a sun that arced across a cloudless sky. The nights were serene, lit only by the light of the moon and the stars. Here and there we would come across a giant female green or smaller olive ridley sea turtle in the midst of laying her precious eggs.

One early afternoon, as I lay napping through the hottest part of the day, engulfed in a light but dream-filled sleep, I was suddenly awakened by yells and whoops of my buddy from somewhere down the beach.

Instantly wide awake, I leapt to my feet and sprinted towards his voice. There on the sand, maybe 50 yards from our tiny Taj Mahal, I saw him kneeling reverently, seemingly in supplication. As I grew rapidly closer, I saw that he was kneeling amidst a herd of stampeding hatchling sea turtles pouring forth from a depression a couple of feet in front of him and racing for the sea!

Thrilled and delighted, I fell to my knees and picked up a couple. Beautiful little living jewels, I gazed briefly into their lovely moist and glistening eyes. They gazed at me unafraid paddling the air. I put them down and they joined the others racing for the water. A few headed the wrong way, towards dry land, so we gently turned them around and they too raced for the sea.

I tore off my shirt and ran with the tiny hatchlings towards the water, yelling encouraging words. But they needed no encouragement from me. They were entering the water and swimming out to sea, so I dove in and swam with them!

Accompanying these newborn adventurers, I envisioned myself a sea turtle, protecting and shielding my tiny charges. I swam with them and saw that there were no fish feasting on them, no seabirds plucking them from the water. I was elated. They had made their escape into the deep. Very few hatchling sea turtles survive to adulthood.. I hoped my tiny companions would.

[Forest Denizen]

Posted by tim (here)
Once, during an extended satori which lasted a few weeks, I had a similiar experience. I was standing in the front yard of a rented house in Brisbane when a beautiful butterfly flitted past my eyes. I watched silently as it flew randomly from flower to flower alighting briefly on each. It then doubled back to a flower about 10 feet away where it stopped. I intuitively felt a deep connection and held out my hand with the palm facing up.

The butterfly then flew onto my hand whereupon we stood silently gazing into each others eyes. I sensed a deep and profound intelligence from this perfect tiny creature as a wave of love swept over me and we dissolved into one. I subsequently came across the story of Chuang Tzu dreaming he was a butterfly, which became part of his awakening journey, and which will now always remind me of this seemingly ordinary, yet magical encounter

Tim, your experience brought to mind a similar event in my life..
And I assure you, dear reader, that the following is exactly as the event transpired. It remains, for me, to this day, a highly significant moment of awakening to the unfathomable and profound mysteries that surround us always.

Back in college, my roommate and I used to practice “being.” We would engage in activities as a form of meditation. No thought, just being in the here and now.

We did this in a number of ways. Throwing the frisbee back and forth on a giant lawn was one. He, I, the frisbee, the breeze, all one.

Another way we did this was by walking in the beautiful nature preserve adjacent to the college. Surprisingly, we rarely encountered another soul. Ancient oaks and sycamores towered over creeks, waterfalls coursed through limestone gorges, a historic and well-known iron-rich spring flowed year-round unabated, emanating from an aquifer deep within the earth. Fifty feet from the spring was an Indian mound that dated back to around 2,000 years ago. It was the burial site of a mother and her newborn, both of whom likely died during childbirth.

It was mid-summer and the forest, having benefited greatly from frequent thunder storms and associated downpours, was lush and green. Thick stands of bright green jewelweed, blooms orange and yellow, lined the creeks where turtles stretched out on logs, bathing in shafts of sunlight that managed to penetrate the forest canopy. Dragonflies and damselflies flitted about, sparkling, iridescent blue and green.

Barefoot as usual, we emerged from the forest at around noon onto a small, sunlit dirt road surrounded by a large grassy meadow. Wildflowers bloomed everywhere and a lone red-eyed vireo sang from the forest nearby, most other birds remaining silent during the heat of mid-day. It was humid. Here and there, a cicada buzzed stridently.

The road stretched out ahead and we walked.. Immersed in the flow of now. Silent. Aware. "Being." When suddenly we became aware that we had company. Two skipper butterflies flew about us excitedly, one circling my friend and one circling me. We were both smiling, delighted by our little visitors. And simultaneously, we each extended our upturned right forefinger.

Immediately, without hesitation, and synchronously, the butterflies landed, one on the tip of my upturned forefinger and one on his! Astonished, we each brought our little visitors up to our faces in order to examine them more closely.

“Oh my g...” We each exclaimed, our voices trailing off into stunned silence..

There, a few inches from my nose, an amazing and otherworldly creature gazed steadily back at me. I looked deeply into its eyes which each contained thin rainbow rings of color floating in a light greyish colored background, alternating with one or two thin, concentric black rings, at the center of which was the pupil. A pupil unlike any I have encountered to this day. It was of the the deepest, most unfathomable black, virtually beyond imagining. And there.. I saw into another universe, what appeared to be a gateway to an entirely separate reality.

Dumbfounded, in awe, for perhaps a minute, maybe two, I stared into the eyes of this tiny visitor. Eyes at the center of which existed the key to another universe. And then, at the exact same instant, the butterflies took flight.

I know my friend was experiencing the same highly magical revelations that I had arrived at, for, we discussed this event immediately upon the butterflies' departure.

We were convinced we had just encountered and communed with some sort of profound and deep intelligence. An intelligence that extended far beyond the little creatures perched on our fingertips. In the eyes of these tiny beings, we had caught a glimpse of the infinite.

[Shadowman]

Hi Ken,

I'm posting the introduction and Chapter 6 of "The Real Life Adventures of Shadowman" here out of deep respect for your love of the natural world, and out of deep love and respect for all the good works Bill Ryan has accomplished in the name of truth and transparency. If Bill gives permission, either by PM'ing me, or simply thanking this post below, I will post the entire book in a new thread, one chapter per post. If nothing else, I'm sure the forum members will find it entertaining...

Please see The real Life Adventures of Shadowman Thread due to editing changes,
Thanks , Shadowman

[O Donna]

In perfect poise, everything takes on a sublime radiant hue.

[Forest Denizen]

Posted by tim (here)
Hi Ken,

I'm posting the introduction and Chapter 6 of "The Real Life Adventures of Shadowman" here out of deep respect for your love of the natural world, and out of deep love and respect for all the good works Bill Ryan has accomplished in the name of truth and transparency. If Bill gives permission, either by PM'ing me, or simply thanking this post below, I will post the entire book in a new thread, one chapter per post. If nothing else, I'm sure the forum members will find it entertaining...

Tim! Absolutely wonderful!!! Love your writing.. love this idea, and, can't wait to read more!!! Thank you so much for your presence here, it is greatly appreciated

AND thank you again for your wonderful thread: Enlightenment - A direct, succinct account of what occurs...

Posted by O Donna (here)
In perfect poise, everything takes on a sublime radiant hue.

O Donna, SO TRUE!!! Thank you

With Love,

Ken

[Andre]

great intro Tim! We need more. There just isn't enough written along these lines. Much appreciated and do keep writing.

[Tam]

Loving this thread!

Let me share an experience of my own. This will have happened when I was somewhere around 11-13 years of age.

Back before things went to hell, my family would vacation just about every year to Cozumel, Mexico. It's nearish to Cancun, and is a tropical paradise. We'd go to one of those all-inclusive resorts, get a room as close to the beach as possible (often, right on it!), and would spend our days at the picturesque beach, surrounded by powdery white sand and warm, turquoise water.

My father and I both loved to snorkel, and the resort we were staying at this particular year had its own miniature barrier reef, which not only protected that little sliver of beach from any strong waves, but also attracted a plethora of aquatic life. As such, we would spend hours at a time swimming right up to the barrier reef, which was about 500 yards away, and back, mesmerized by all of the sea life. We'd see schools of colorful fish hundreds strong, giant blue lobsters, eels, starfish, giant sea urchins, halibut, sea anemones, nurse sharks, and all manner of marine creatures. It was absolutely magical. Every time we'd venture out, we'd see something new. Each round trip usually took us around 2 hours, as we would take our time.

Since the barrier reef was a good half mile long, we'd walk up or down the beach to hit up different areas, as they were all of varying depth, and, therefore, varied in what would lurk there.

One trip, in particular, stood out to us.

We had found a really cool spot the day before that had an honest-to-God shipwreck. Kid Tam thought it was the coolest thing ever. While it wasn't like out of The Little Mermaid, there was an old wooden mast with the sail still attached, some sealed crates, bits of rope, and random broken planks of wood. It must have been there for quite some time, as it was all covered in coral, barnacles, and algae. Nature had turned it into a perfect refuge for all kind of life, so it quickly became a favorite spot.

We were on our way back from the reef one day, passing by the shipwreck, when we notice something new: a large driftwood log, down on the seafloor, near the mast.

My father would frequently dive down to grab the occasional conch, sand dollar, or starfish, so we could observe it together, always returning it to its rightful home afterwards. He'd go down alone in case there was anything dangerous; one time, he nearly hit a large manta ray with his flipper. It was easily as big, if not bigger, than the one that killed Steve Irwin. So to protect me, he'd head down first, check if the coast was clear, then wave for me to join him.

So, as usual, I would wait at the surface, watching carefully, as he slowly approached the log to see if he could move it, as there were frequently small colonies of shrimp or starfish under fossilized, loose coral stones, coconut shells, or the like.

He nearly reaches it when he makes the hand sign for danger, and rushes back to the surface, motioning for us to get the hell away.

We flee, and once my father deems it safe, pulls out his snorkel to tell me why he freaked out.

Turns out, it wasn't a log at all.

It was a barracuda.

Now, for perspective, my father is 6'2'', and this thing was at least a foot longer than he was tall. It was also just as wide.

In other words, it would have been something along this scale:



But bigger.

My father told me that as soon as he got close, he made eye contact with it...and saw that its razor-sharp teeth must have been around 5 inches long and the thickness of his thumb.

He was understandably shaken by it.

We alerted the lifeguard, who told us we were lucky it didn't attack us, and that seeing one of that size was quite rare.

We were much more careful when out on our adventures after that.

[Valerie Villars]

I love that area of the world. Thanks Tam.

[Johan (Keyholder)]

In 1994 I was in Kaikoura, South Island New Zealand.

On a beautiful day I was part of a group that went swimming with wild Hector Dolphins.
We got in a small boat, and when the guides knew that the dolphins were around (they sort of knew their swimming routes),
we all got our snorkels on and went in the water. The motor of the boat was not functioning at this time.

Now, the spiritual experience I am thinking of was when 1 particular dolphin was about three feet away of me and we made eye contact.
It was one of the most amazing experiences I have had with nature and I really think dolphins and whales may be MUCH "wiser" than we are, as a species.
That I remember this experience as if it happened yesterday while it was 25 years ago, speaks for itself.

Not sure whether they still do this around Kaikoura, but it was a way to not disturb (not too much anyway) the Hector dolphins, while teaching "the tourists"
about the value of marine life.

[Forest Denizen]

Back in the mid-1990s, I was living in New Hampshire. My girlfriend at the time, Diane, and I, had been doing the weekend relationship thing for a while, she lived up north in the White Mountains teaching environmental education, and I lived in the southern part of the state, finishing my degree.

Through word of mouth, as is often the case in these small New England towns and rural locations, we heard that an amazing place was suddenly available for rent, and at a price we couldn’t believe. The owners really just wanted someone living in the place, caretakers essentially, otherwise, the place would sit vacant, vulnerable to marauding wildlife and perhaps local teenagers looking for a place to party.

Tired of the long commute and ready to take the next step in our adventure, we jumped at the opportunity. Our close friends lived next door to the property, about 50 yards along a path through the woods, and they were the ones who told us about it. We were all excited to be living next door to each other.

The place was a cavernous old carriage house sitting on acres and acres of forest and fields. Low, ancient rock walls snaked this way and that throughout the landscape. It had at one time served a stately old mansion that stood on a hill overlooking lands mostly to the south, that rolled downhill and away, through a broad valley and across rushing streams to, eventually, Mount Monadnock, a venerable old granite-topped peak of 3,000 plus feet.

The old mansion had burned to the ground some years earlier and all that remained was a lovely but long neglected formal garden, and maybe 50 yards away, the carriage house, which sat at the end of a winding quarter-mile-long driveway that climbed upward from the one lane road below.

The sprawling wooden structure consisted of, on the ground floor to the right, a series of large stalls and rooms for tack and storage, and on the left, a gigantic open room the size of a gymnasium, for carriages I supposed. Large wooden doors with wheels that rolled on tracks, opened onto a flat expanse at the top of the driveway.

Still, after many years of disuse, the ground floor of the carriage house seemed permanently infused with the aroma of horses, sweet hay, leather, and the broad old wooden boards, weathered to a smooth, almost glossy finish, that extended throughout the structure.

Upstairs, on the second floor, was the caretaker’s apartment. Two bedrooms, one large and one very small, a bathroom, kitchen, and cozy living room.. large windows looked out into the trees and fields that surrounded the place. The heat was by wood stove.. two of them, one in the living room, one in the larger bedroom.

The area was perfect for hiking and in the winter, we went cross-country skiing right out the front door. Endless trails beckoned in every direction. In the fall, I liked to go foraging through the woods for wild mushrooms.

The forests, a mosaic of old oaks, maples, hickories, dense stands of hemlock, spruce, and balsam fir, were home to a number of delectable species. Hen of the woods, oyster mushrooms, chanterelles, matsutakes, chicken of the woods.. all enticed, their delicious and unique flavors drawing me on. Deep into the forest I would wander.

One particular late October day, it was cloudy and cool.. around 45 degrees. Sweater weather they call it in New England. It had rained a couple of days earlier. Wet brown leaves and deep green moss carpeted the forest floor and my footfalls made no sound as I meandered slowly through the trees. On I crept, scanning this way and that. Stalking the rare and elusive, wild and wary mushroom.. all my senses heightened.

The forest floor grew dimmer as I entered a thick stand of hemlock and balsam fir. Branches, dense with dark green needles filtered what little light might reach the forest floor on this gray autumn day. Chickadees and titmice scolded me. Wait a second. What is that? My brain struggled to make sense of the shape.. it’s a hoof! And.. a dark brown leg, no more than eight feet in front of me!

I follow the leg up and it meets the hindquarters of a gigantic bull moose, its front half, head, and antlers partially obscured by branches just ahead and to my left!

I’d seen plenty of moose before. We even had them wander through our garden now and then. But I had never stood next to one. It was as if sprung direct from the Pleistocene.. One of the giant megafauna that fascinated me as a child.. giant ground sloths, North American camels, short-faced bears..

This was an enormous male in the prime of his life. Over six feet at the shoulder and a thousand pounds or more, his antlers spread six feet across overhead. So intent had I been on my hunt for the elusive and varied fungi amongst the detritus of the forest floor, so narrow and focused was my search image, that I had failed to notice this animal the size of a garage standing not eight feet in front of me.

I stopped dead in my tracks. I froze. Was it still rutting season? Had he been browsing on the fragrant balsam fir? Males don’t eat during the fall rutting season, instead, they battle for the right to mate with whatever females might be about. Rutting season is not a great time to stumble into a bull moose. Hormones pulse through their bodies, tickling the brain and nether regions, making them irritable.. agitated even.

I was even with his hind quarters as he stood broadside to me, partially obscured by the dense young fir trees. He noticed my presence. Moving his head around slightly to look back, and down, at where I stood, his enormous bloodshot eye rolled rearward in my direction.

His great brown and bloodshot eye warily assayed my small frame. Perhaps still ready to engage any male intruding upon his territory.. He seemed to relax slightly.. Satisfied that I was no threat, he turned his great head back around to face forward. I slowly and carefully began retracing my steps, a film in reverse, moving back from whence I had come. He then returned to what he must have been doing before I came upon him, browsing on the young and fragrant balsam fir.

[Bill Ryan]