Life here continues to ramp up as the complexity of aliveness continues to interweave a beautiful, thickening, cultural carpet of resilience within and around our little Green Acres Village. Adding the third house — and as of one month ago, its wonderful, willing, doctoral-students-in-music occupants — has had such an energizing effect! Sometimes I just whoop for joy internally, so exciting and cooperative has our little village become.
Last night we gathered for our third Community Dinner of the Fall Season, with John, of the new third house, in the lead, and his contribution: an Andean soup called Sancocho, with chicken in it. A magnificent meal all by itself, and of course complimented with all sorts of other offerings.
In my note to the Green Acres email list about the upcoming dinner, I mentioned that my son Colin would be there, to talk about our UFO contact experience of the week before, which would include a first ever recounting of the spectacular incident that greeted Colin at the end. So, after dinner, with the fire started and everybody seemingly ready for what we had to say — Colin had humorously asked if people still wanted to hear about it and a number of hands shot up immediately — we launched in, first with some background about the “CE-5 protocols” for the “People’s Disclosure Movement” that are being implemented through individuals and groups in lots of different localities world-wide. At this point, I stopped the process and asked that those far from the fire gather closer. So we scooped chairs up before proceeding.
Colin’s story of the contact experiences of those five nights concludes with the uncanny timing of a large bright light that flashed and slowly receded immediately in response to his lifting his arms and thanking the ETs for their presence. This was right after he and I had gotten up and were preparing to leave the group an hour prior to the others. I gather from what Kosta wrote later about the group’s final hour and departure, that the whole group experienced the same kind of strong light that also faded slowly right as they thanked the ETs for their presence.
Throughout our tale I was struck by how present everyone was for this recounting. How ready we all are for “contact” with ET in a loving manner. Several others also told stories of contact, including one where as a little boy, he had been with his mom and others in a car when all of a sudden the motor and lights went dead as a saucer-shaped object zipped over them. His mother, he said, screamed in fear. Afterwards, their car and all the other cars started up again, flashing their lights at each other as they passed.
This is the kind of story that I have heard numerous times. How ET craft (theirs or ours? hard to say, as we have back-engineered ET craft since the late 40s) seem to cause the motors and lights to temporarily go out when they pass close by cars, especially on lonely country roads.
By this time it was thoroughly dark. The fire warmed us all and lit up our imaginations as we sat for a little while in silence, Logan’s guitar and voice softly strumming from behind.
