Dear Raven,
Thank-you for publishing these chapters. I wonder if I'll ever exhaust my supply of memories. The experiences continue to this day, and it's all I can do to group similar events into clusters that somehow make sense.
A few days after I seeing the 14” footprint in the mud, I noticed an outline in light, of a bipedal being exiting the back door of our house. It walked into the island of trees behind. The light outline was pale yellow, exactly the color of the declining sun at that moment.
I’ll describe in my next email a similar light being in our living room at night. At that time I was relaxing in front of the fire. The creature’s outline was the color of the fire I had going in the fireplace. No other lights were on.
At the time of both instances, I thought I was witnessing some sort of ghost or spectral paranormal entity. Now I realize these were Sabe, whose visual shielding was betrayed by a uniformly colored surface behind them.
It took me years to put this all together. The tail of my car had been sideswiped, to buy the occupants of our building time to pack up and vacate. These humans enjoy living in abandoned buildings, particularly during the winter. Details of all this will be included in my next email.
Were the outlines, colored like the predominant light source at that time, a clue to Sabe’s light cloaking technique? That is what I now believe. These outline figures seem visible only when viewed against an even background, such as the wall of an interior or exterior building, or evenly lit sky.
I noticed this form from a distance of two hundred feet. It exited our back door towards the trees opposite, where it disappeared. This one wasn’t tall, seemed female, about five foot eight in height. She was gone in a few seconds.
Had she been inside our building? At the time this made me more than a little concerned.
A few days earlier after returning from our mushroom seminar in the forest, two of my pottery bowls went missing without payment from a table I'd set outside our house. Instead, a small pile of little brown mushrooms, a fern bent into the shape of a bow-tie, and a small piece of polished stone laid as surrogate compensation.
My first reaction to these gifts was that a young female cousin coveted my work, but was unable to leave a check. I felt embarrassed, and defensive. What would my wife think? This bizarre transaction seemed to invade my privacy, forces I clearly did not understand.
So I put the entire load of gifted materials, stone, folded fern, and mushrooms, into a paper bag, and hid them at the bottom of our kitchen recycling. It was the sort of knee-jerk reaction one makes when one is embarrassed, or confused. I realized I wanted this interaction to end. I was fearful, but only to the extent I was confused.
My wife would have asked, who left you this stone and pile of mushrooms? Where are your two best bowls? So I pretended I was hiding the cache from my wife, when in reality I was hiding it from myself. My logical mind struggled to overthrow a new dimension of truth.
I learned the small stone was Labradorite, and that Sabe actually use Labradorite in trade with each other. I spent a long morning discussing Adirondack minerals, with my geologist uncle. We held conversations outdoors about Labradorite, magnetite, gneiss, and granite. These discussions may have been overheard. Was my mind read?
Was the light shadow woman recovering the gifted stone?
It took time to accept that Sabe cherished my pottery. I felt flattered, and along with that, angry at myself for not accepting their existence much much sooner. The gift of small mushrooms mirrored our mushroom study group's audible conversations about an elusive Adirondack psychedelic fungus. This was the same being that followed our jeep along an internal road at high speed, as we made our way happily to another mushroom ecosystem.
As an adult clutching the spare tire at the back of my cousin’s Jeep, I heard the giant footsteps crashing through the woods, keeping pace at a pretty good clip too. We drove at least 30 miles an hour and given the condition of the road it was all I could do to hang on. But despite the noise of the jeep bouncing over the road, and my cousins inside talking all at once, I still heard the crash of branches and twigs as our follower kept pace. Yet he, or she, remained invisible.
I knew nothing about Sabe gifting. Labradorite, according to my uncle, is “a long distance traveler from the north east, brought down by the glaciers.” He told me how certain black Labradorite boulders are scattered across the Adirondacks, like the mystery spheres of South America. The stone I’d been given was about an inch across, but was creamy yellow in color verging towards blackish green on one edge. It definitely has a crystalline structure.
I read somewhere that Labradorite was a cherished stone by Native Americans and Sabe, and that the crystalline stones, held the knowledge of the rivers, and provided guidance to tribe members as they made journeys across our continent. I’m paraphrasing.
Realizing the gifts were not from a secret girlfriend, I went into the woods and apologized “It’s taken me a while to put all this together. Please forgive me. I’m happy you have my bowls. Take as many as you want."
A few days later, another light being observed me from high in a tree as I sat outside working outside on a lawnmower. Again, visible against a uniform sky, the outline was the color of the midday sun at that moment. Though each sighting had me perplexed, seen later through the lens of memory, these experiences seemed benign. I realized we were sharing our dwelling, with either a family of ghosts or demons, or oversize hominids. I wasn't afraid because the energy they left felt benevolent, and welcoming. I never forget them, despite long periods of absence, yet thinking of seeing them again never made me afraid.
This figure hung on by one hand thirty feet up a young maple, of about 20” diameter at the base. I squinted to view this creature against the sky. The sun was not far off, maybe thirty degrees, from the sun. I had to squint.
It stood feet on the crotch of an upper branch, steadying its body with an extended hand on the much tapered trunk. The entire tree bent and swayed from it’s weight, yet to me just appeared as a see-through cutout, of light. I looked away, but when I looked back, it was gone.
A side note: We had been in possession of our home just two years. It was an old building, new for us, but needing massive amounts of work, repair of roof leaks, etc. It hadn’t been lived in for twenty five years. After we bought it I did a massive cleaning job. We repaired and replaced a lot of mechanicals in order to make it useable and start enjoying the place. It runs, but the roof, the frame structure, and porches still needed major work.
Mid-March of the next year I was up for some late winter tree cutting. An entire crop of maples, beech and spruce had prospered very close to the house, during the twenty five years of vacancy. The large trees growing close to the building needed to be cut out.
The weather was clear and cold and sunny, the ground, frozen. I awoke to a foot of dry fresh snow. Across the yard out front, across a flat of berry bushes shaded by hemlocks, I noticed large footprints crossing the snow.
The length of the stride was six or so feet apart. It was impossible to examine the bottom of each print due to the depth of fresh snow. There were just the pristine indents, crossing the yard, way farther apart than I could stride myself.
A picture was building. Definitely bi-pedal footprints. I tracked them three hundred feet or so to the edge of the clearing, where they disappeared, literally vanished.
Mulling on this new mystery I applied myself to the work at hand. The weather turned warm, and made the hard exercise a pleasure.
By day’s end I had rounds of maple and beech to split, with denuded oversized spruce trunks lying in the snow. I hesitated dicing up the sappy trunks since they gum up the saw.
The limbs that were too small to dice into firewood, I’d dragged around the building to a forested area at the back of the camp. I was more fatigued from hauling this detritus than manhandling the chainsaw. The thought occurred to me to try and drag one entire spruce trunk all at once. It was way too heavy, couldn't even budge it. I felt foolish for trying. I thought, I'll just let it dry out, cut it up in the summer.
The next day I awoke, and found the heaviest trunk had been carried around to the back of our property. Some being was watching me and helping me do my work! Something was in the forest that I could not see. I needed other evidence.
That following summer I walked through the woods to a remote section of pond-fed stream a couple of miles to our north. The stream is deep and full of holes and ideal for trout.
As I entered the stream area, a blown over spruce lay with its root ball standing vertically. Any who have seen this phenomena know how a full diameter of ten or more feet of earth may be lifted up by the roots of a blown over tree. Sometimes the ball is mostly earth, other times the rain washes the root structure so it becomes a fine steel wool of rootlets, supported by a more massive structure of root members. When they get old, the primary roots get dry and textured, like driftwood.
As I passed this fallen spruce I thought, it wouldn’t it be incredible if a Sabe could hide in plain sight, especially if he was dark and hairy, to begin with. He could just scrunch up and pretend to be the root ball of a fallen tree, like those octopuses camouflaging themselves in jagged coral reefs.
I still had no real proof to myself that Sabe existed, At this point I was thinking conventional hide-and-seek techniques. Old school stuff, like the art of concealment, use of fractals to hide well, match the land in color and shape.
The idea of invisibility is a tough one. We believe that we’re the top hominid, and that nothing surpasses us in skills or abilities. We believe we see everything we turn our eyes towards.
Let’s dispel that last notion first. Astronomy is done with a variety of telescopes, many of them, including radio telescopes, UV telescopes, and infrared telescopes such as the James Webb Space Telescope. All these machines exploit wavelengths of light that are not visible to the human eye. Yet birds and insects see these other wavelengths.
David Attenborough did a wonderful series on what animals actually see. After analyzing light reception on the retinas of prey mammals such as deer, it became obvious that tigers to them, are virtually invisible. The orange stripes of the tiger are perceived as green by the deer, since deer are red color blind. Their cone receptors cannot see red. So the tiger appears green with black stripes, which mimics the blades and shadows of tall grass. I advise you have a look at this series, backed by novel scientific research into how animals see.
Other evidence is in that Sabe can see infra-red, whereas we can’t. Sabe eyes are also a source of infra-red as well as visible red ligh, hence the many reports of glowing red eyes at night. These beings possess total night vision. They can see in total darkness since their eyes function dually, as sources of infra-red light and infra-red detectors.
Why haven’t we been taught about these people? Why the sudden rise in Sabe consciousness? Humanity has known for years, but have decided as a dumbed down civilization not to believe. Despite reports dating back to the first settling of this continent, and a myriad of consistent descriptions by Native Americans, we constantly reject reports their reality. Upsetting the myth, that we are the most powerful, and can see everything, cannot be allowed.
My father, used to set up a little game around Christmas, a game of hiding things indoors in plain sight. As an artist, he was a master of concealment. He would say, “First to find a pencil, a thimble and a tiny bird wins.’ Dad was an artist and could always place things in plain sight where most of us would completely overlook them. The whole while he’d be there watching, so intently that I started to suspect he was broadcasting thoughts into our minds in order to prevent us from seeing.
After a while he’d release us from his thought spells. He’d say, “Use your eyes. Look hard! Really Look!” And then all of a sudden we’d see a yellow pencil lying against a yellow stripe on the rug. It always occurred to me that despite his ingenious concealment techniques, he influenced the way we saw things by suggesting mentally that a particular item was not there.
I remembered these past experiences while passing the rootball. Just the kind of place a Sabe would hide. Unfortunately this time there was no Sabe, just a big old toppled spruce.
I fished for a good half hour then left following my incoming tracks back out. When I passed the fallen spruce I noticed the rootball seemed much diminished. In fact it was utterly destroyed, most of it having rotted away entirely. There was neither mud, nor stones or gravel, nor big roots to hold it all, nor little black hairy roots. The root ball had lost about a thousand pounds! Yet I had seen a toppled spruce with mud and gravel and root hairs lifted in the air. Or had I imagined it?
Had he camouflaged himself by smearing mud and grass on his own black hair? Or did he disguise himself by thought alone, suggesting the idea of a root ball, planting that thought in my head as I walked by? Could he have used mind-influence to change the way I perceived reality?
I couldn’t think of any alternatives. If indeed, he works this way, he obviously has a variety of techniques to make you see whatever he wants, especially if you’re not vigilant. This means you’ll never spot him unless you really look hard, . . . or . . . unless he wants you to see him.
I kept this evidence, light beings, gifting, work assistance, outdoor concealment to myself. I mentioned nothing to my wife and kids. The list of my experiences was getting long, I worried about how to walk them into my growing sense of realization.
When finally I sat beside the old guy on the porch my dam broke, I told my son, He listened, but would have none of it. My wife shut me down immediately, still does, if I mention any of it. My son listens, says reserved things. He knows I never lie, but cannot believe in an order invisible beings living alongside us.
Nevertheless, I advised them both, "Get with the program, otherwise you might have the shock of your lives". My son’s an ecologist, so I implored him to avail himself of what seemed like an irrefutable body of fact. An irrefutable body of fact, yet no hard evidence of any kind.
As a scientist, he's a natural born skeptic. He needs to be so, to do his work. So we’d be walking in the woods and suddenly catch that scent, and I’d say, “the big guy is nearby", or see a fresh broken pine bough across a trail and then I'd tell him right there, ”These are signs.” Then I’d say something aloud to the big guy, like, “Meet my son!". And then my son thinks I’m nuts. I know all will be resolved soon, it can’t not be, and I know my son is much further along in taking this on than my wife. I think out of respect for me, Sabe will not shock her into admission, because she’d never come north again.
The absolute gulf, that they, like most human beings simply cannot cross, is taking testimonies such as mine on faith, without any corroborating first hand experience. This puts a wall dividing our population. into those that know, and those that can't believe.
More later,
Postmark Winter Owl
