Prefacing Note: The following extraordinary story, absolutely as true as my memory serves me, which is quite well, has never been documented before, and through the years only brief details of this strange encounter have been discussed among family and intimate friends – including my immediate family members, all of whom were there (as well as the family dog, who was terrified) . The story should have been told publicly long ago, but there is always the reticence – for fear of ridicule or worse – that inhibits the ego and keeps one silent about such things. – lap/alw (At right is the old dirt road as it looks today at the crossroads where the encounter occurred. The alien craft approached from the upper right of the photo while we were driving in the direction of the view. I first stopped the car near the point where I took this picture.) The incident took place shortly past midnight on a summer night in the early 1970's. We were on our way home from a drive-in movie in Riverto

"... the great materialistic progress which we have venerated for so long is on the verge of bankruptcy. We can no longer believe that we are born into this world to accumulate wealth and abandon ourselves to mortal pleasures. We see the dangers and realize that we have been exploited for centuries. We were told the twentieth century was the most progressive that the world has ever known, but unfortunately the progression was in the direction of self-destruction." - Manly Palmer Hall Today is the birthday of Manly Palmer Hall (1901–1990), a Canadian philosopher, scholar, and mystic whose prolific works included the remarkable volume The Secret Teachings of All Ages , from which I offer this quote for your contemplation: "Philosophy bestows life in that it reveals the dignity and purpose of living. Materiality bestows death in that it benumbs or clouds those faculties of the human soul, which should be responsive to the enlivening impulses of creative thought and ennoblin

Gnostics say that experience and seeing, and absorbing what you see and experience, is far more important than formal study and education. It has something to do with nature – being close to the earth – and the natural wisdom of intuition that has all but been purged from our senses. It is the musky scent of Sophia and the deep feminine, of damp soil, dark caves and wombs, and of the fertility rites of the old pagan ways when "God was a Woman." – from The Mystery of Being Alive , my essay of January 7, 2009 When I was a teenager a few of my friends and I would occasionally take the latest feminine objects of our desires to a cave system called the Tongue River cave west of Dayton, Wyoming, to seduce them, for there is something sensual – even erotic -- about penetrating deep into the dark, damp, yet pleasantly pungent, atmosphere of a cavern where even the most prissy and proper of our young ladies soon succumbed to the passion of her natural sexuality. We didn't under

As the years wear on I find myself, more and more frequently, looking back over my long life with conflicting and alternating mixtures of quiet comfort and satisfaction, unsettling regret and remorse, and nostalgic memories of all that has gone before. Though I seldom dwell on the past for long, I often pull incidents, places, people, and things through the cobwebs of my mind for use in my writing. For a writer, drawing from personal experiences is the most valuable reference library there is. From time to time I consider the influences of the roles that others have played in the shaping of my life – the significance of my father, mother, and siblings, for instance. It took me decades to realize that my mother had more influence on the character of my mind and my personality than my father did. My father was a here and now kind of person, and he was a friend and companion more than a father, for we spent years fishing, hunting, and exploring together when I was a kid – all the while i