This past summer I had been spending a lot of time outside, not exactly meditating, as this practice is not my forte, but sitting still and breathing deep. There are various spots around town I’ve found to be more ideal than others (selection criteria: in nature as much as possible, quiet and secluded as much as possible), and while in these different spots various interesting things have happened.
One spot I’ve found to be a nice place to sit quietly and breath deeply is on top of a massive boulder perched on the crest of a waterfall. This is not as dangerous as it sounds, curiously so in fact though that’s another story. On one occasion while laying on this rock, breathing deeply and facing the sky with my eyes closed, I saw in my mind’s eye a cartoon-ish looking bird fly down from above and land beside me. In my mind, it was as if it had flown quickly from so far above as to be invisible, and as if it were almost weightless, softly landing beside me on the rock. Intrigued, I opened my eyes and automatically (i.e. without really thinking about it) looked into the basin of the waterfall below me. There I saw, in real life, a lone dove down by the water. After watching me for a few minutes, it proceeded to fly up and land some thirty feet away on the creek bank to my right, which happened to be quite steep and loose; the bird seemed to have trouble keeping its footing and kept crawling up and down the bank, all the while keeping its attention on me — as mine was on it.
After a few minutes of this had passed, and after an awkward attempt at a polite compliment on my part (“I admire your pure white plumage” I said in my mind), I asked it where it lived. Perhaps in response, or perhaps as a result of having detected some far-off hikers who were due to approach the area soon, the dove flew off in the direction that it came. About a minute or so later a pair of hikers could be seen approaching the waterfall from downstream. A rather odd, but I suppose, nice interaction, for which I should perhaps be grateful.
Another interesting incident happened while I was laying on a grate in what I like to call “upper field” (as opposed to “lower field”, some 50 feet down, 50 feet distant). Upper field is actually a field on top of a buried water reservoir which itself is located about three quarters of the way up a rocky, tree-covered escarpment (a nice place for hiking). It is a secluded field surrounded on all sides by trees. While laying on a grate in this field, on a practically cloudless, warm day, once again my eyes were closed.
Now, it is not uncommon to hear hawks’ distinctive screech in this area, as they and other raptors can often be found riding the updrafts and presumably hunting whatever catches their fancy in the open spaces below. So it was of no great surprise to hear the hawk screech on that day as I was laying in the sun. I do admire these birds however, so even though I was pleasantly resting with my eyes closed, hearing it was enough to compel me to open my eyes in the hope of catching a glimpse. Lo and behold, the hawk was actually directly above me, casually drifting across my field of vision, which was convenient since I was fairly comfortable and watching it didn’t require me to turn my head.
As it passed, I noticed it drop a down feather, which remained in my field of vision even after the hawk flew beyond my sight (still not turning my head). And so with only my eyes tracking, I allowed my attention to lock onto the feather. As I watched it floating gently in the sky, from directly behind it (at least from my point of view), a passenger jet that I hadn’t noticed up to that point appeared. Capriciously, I shifted my attention to the jet. After following the path of the jet for a few seconds, I then noticed that suddenly, behind the jet, there was a point of light that hadn’t been front of it before; similar to how the jet appeared to come from behind the feather, this new point of light appeared out of nowhere from behind the jet.
Naturally, my attention then became focused on the light, which seemed to be nothing more or less than simply a light in the sky. It looked exactly like a star would look if it could be seen in the daytime. Though at first distinctly stationary, it eventually began to move, slowly, along a Southerly course. Finally getting up and looking around, I noticed that in the direction it seemed to be headed there was another point of light, looking essentially the same as the first.
Now, psychic conversations are a dubious endeavour at best in my opinion, as you can never know for sure who it is you’re really talking to (it’s like talking on ham radio, if you’re old enough to know what that is). It’s also tricky making sure the voice you’re “hearing” is not accidentally your own, wholly or in part. However, on this occasion there was at least a temporal correlation between what I was witnessing and the voice that came through in my mind; as I was watching the lights in the sky, I heard something like “You have to understand, we are not beings like you”. That was the only sentence I can be certain of receiving that I did not accidentally interfere with by talking over or asking questions without waiting for answers.
After some time the two lights drifted too far away to keep track of, and that was the end of that.
More recently, while sitting cross-legged beside what is essentially a massive pond and doing the deep breathing thing with my eyes closed, I saw in my mind’s eye suddenly that there, standing beside me was a young man. Nothing out of the ordinary (i.e. not oddly dressed or in any way weird), just a late 20’s to early 30’s looking man standing politely. He was holding a tray, sitting on top of which was what looked like a cold coffee-type drink (my favourite) in a clear glass. Wasting no time he offered the drink to me. I suspected this to be some manner of eliciting consent, but at the time I didn’t think it was a big deal so I drank it (in my mind of course). He then asked me if I wanted to meet with him/them tomorrow morning, perhaps choosing that time on account of the fact that early morning is when I’m statistically most likely to be asleep. I agreed.
I have utterly no recollection of what if anything took place, no dreams that I can recall of anything that happened that night, however I do know that the next day I slept in until one in the afternoon, and then after getting up and having breakfast, I lay down on the couch and slept for another three or so hours. Which is unusual.