I suspect that whether secretly or openly, many here will be able to relate to this, in one way or another.
Being the second oldest in a large family could often be somewhat overwhelming… ‘Quiet time’ was an extremely scarce and sacred commodity. Just a few blocks from home there was a place, a kind of a secret place, that I would go to when I needed to just get away from people, the noise and the seemingly constant insanity of home-life in the mid sixties. My old getaway spot, my marsh at the back of the field behind my house with it’s Red Winged Blackbirds and all it’s other assorted wildlife, had been gone for a couple of years now, filled in and replaced by an ugly high-rise apartment complex. (see: https://www.intuitalks.com/my-red-winged-blackbirds-the-end-of-innocence/ ) The word “angst” wasn’t yet part of my vocabulary even though it was a big part of my everyday life in those days.
My new secret spot, about 4 short blocks from home, was on the north western shore of Lake Ontario, in what was the small Canadian town of Burlington, Ontario. That was back when Lake Ontario and Lake Erie in particular and the other Great Lakes to a somewhat lesser extent, were so polluted that you could just about dig holes in the water’s surface. The commercial and sport fisheries were all but a memory and what few salmon & trout still managed to make their way into the rivers and creeks, headed for their spawning grounds were wasting away, half dead, due to what had been an out of control infestation of Lamprey. The shoreline of the lake was eroding away at an unprecedented rate and the ‘Ministry of Conservation’, as it was known in those days, had piled great blocks of limestone all along the shoreline in an effort to stem the tide (so to speak) of the erosion.
The particular section of shoreline that this phenomenal experience is concerned with was backed by a sandy cliff some forty-five or fifty feet high. At the base of this, the ground sloped comfortably down at about a thirty-five degree angle towards the limestone block break wall. Thanks to years of neglect, this sloped section of ground was overgrown with bushes, scrub brush, tall weeds and the accumulated, wind blown detritus of surrounding human habitation. I suppose it would be considered an eye-sore to most people but, to me it was a ‘sacred spot’. It was a great place to sit and ‘chill out’, away from the hassles of the world and it’s people (I knew little to nothing of meditation in those early years). Here I could climb up the slope about halfway between the limestone breakwater and the cliff face and there, I could sit surrounded by scrub brush and tall weeds. I could see out across the water but not be seen in the unlikely event that anyone should happen by.
Early one Saturday afternoon in the late spring of ’66, I found myself once again at my alone place. As I sat there, enjoying the early afternoon sunshine on my face, listening to the steady rhythm of the waves against the rocks and the mindless, excited twittering and squawking of the birds, I must of gone into a trance. My perception of the tiny bit of world that I could see from my vantage point didn’t really change, other than perhaps looking a little duller, fuzzier, almost sepia toned…….. Not quite as bright and sharp as it had been when I had arrived there just a few minutes earlier.
The birds seemed to disappear, no longer flitting about in the underbrush, no longer twittering or singing their cacophony of early summer songs. The light breeze off the lake also seemed to diminish. Everything seemed to turn almost a deathly quiet, with the exception of a faint, annoying buzzing sound that seemed to originate far off in the distance.
I have no concept of the passage of time at this point. The only thing that I was really aware of was that almost pulsing buzz from miles away, or was it just in my head? As I sat there, the world no longer mattered. There was only my little window of it that existed and……and that damned annoying buzz that I’m sure was gaining in intensity. My thoughts were centered around what could be causing it, where it may have originated from, why it was dominating my senses… and why did it appear to be coming this way?
Nothing else seemed to matter. The buzzing definitely was getting louder…., like a great tidal wave rolling towards me but from where? Across the lake? The rough brownish water appeared to calm with it’s increasing vibrational frequency. Closer and closer that buzzing vibration came, gaining in intensity, until finally it appeared to reach the shoreline.
To my amazement, limestone blocks appeared to dissolve, turning to dust as this now almost visible wave of sound passed over (through?) them. And still, the buzzing didn’t stop. Now, sounding like a hive of very angry bees, it continued on up the slope, dissolving, vaporizing, everything in it’s path, speeding on up to where I sat. All the weeds, scrub brush and bushes disappeared as the now seemingly visible sound advanced. I watched, helpless to move, as my own feet and then my legs were reduced to dust before my eyes. The screaming buzz now sounding more like a dentist’s drill was all around me, consuming me, dissolving me from the tailbone on up through the top of my head, then moving beyond me.
As I had now disappeared, I sensed more than heard…. “Had that screaming buzz changed in tone? Yes!” It’s advancement appeared to of halted. As I looked around from somewhere above, all that remained of the land and limestone break wall was what appeared to be a barren expanse of grayish-brown dust. During these observations, I noticed more subtle changes to the tone of the sonic wave that had just dissolved me and everything else in it’s path. First at a standstill, a steady, persistent pitch….. and now, had the tone of the pitch lowered? It was as if the sonic wave had halted it’s advance and had now begun to slowly recede.
I continued to observe, from everywhere all at once, as the wave of sound flowed back down the embankment, back towards the water. As the sound-wave retreated, I was awestruck by what was taking place. Where there once had been weeds, scrub brush, wild bushes and bits of wind-blown litter strewn about, then replaced by the barren looking dusty expanse, there was now the makings of a beautiful wild garden. As the buzzing receded back down the slope, lush green grass and multi-colored spring wild flowers appeared all along it’s trailing edge as far as my astral(?) vision could perceive. At the base of the embankment, in place of the rough and tumble limestone break wall, there appeared a pristine sandy beach. The scene brought about childish mental images of the biblical Garden of Eden.
The birds too had returned but, along with the usual scattering of noisy sparrows, starlings and a colony of bank swallows zipping about, there were also a dozen or so species of magnificently colored birds of an unknowable species and songbirds of every description. The one thing that made me feel a little uneasy was the fact that nowhere on the slope of that now park-like embankment, did ‘I’ reappear.
It was too much to take in. It was all I could do to maintain my position, floating, it seemed, some fifteen or twenty feet above the spot where I had originally settled down to contemplate the the troubles of the mid-sixties. The greedy, aggressively destructive ways of the world. I could feel myself being pulled away, to where, I didn’t know, nor did I care. I just wanted to stay where I was, enjoying the wondrous spectacle as it was spreading out before me.
The continued retreating of that annoying buzzing, now reduced to a low thrumming drone, once more drew my attention. It was amazing to watch. As it receded back across the almost toxic lake, the once brown, choppy water was turning a crystal blue-green as that inexplicable sound retreated over it. All of this adding to the illusion of my magical paradise.
The world as I now observed it seemed devoid of all human habitation. My entire being was being flooded with love, awe and wonder…… “Was I now seeing through the eyes of the Creator? Was I simply some astral or spiritual Being, there solely to witness and document the power of a higher vibrational Being? Was I there to witness the cleaning up after some careless children? …To realize that the human race, while on it’s current path, is the only real blight on the earth?” Or was I merely experiencing this phenomenon in order to understand that it was not yet too late… Not yet too late to repair, to reverse the mess we were making of our world?
I’ll never know if there was an ultimate plan to this still wondrous episode for at that moment, my world came crashing down.
There I was, back on the ground, sitting among the tall weeds and scrub brush and litter. To my dismay, apart from everything looking a little brighter, the limestone blocks, the weeds, bushes and even the birds all appeared to glow from within with their own colorful auras…, besides these strange visual effects, everything appeared as it had been before that incessant buzzing had begun. Looking at my watch, I was surprised to see that almost three hours had passed in what I swear could of been no more than ten or fifteen minutes.
I sat there for maybe another half hour, gathering my wits as best I could before making my way back home. Going over the events of the afternoon kept me awake for most of that night… and no, I hadn’t consumed any intoxicating or hallucinogenic substances. At the time, grasping at straws in my seventeen year old mind and knowing nothing of transcendental meditation, kundalini or various forms of OBE’s, all I could logically put down as the probable cause of that event is that I must of fallen asleep and experienced the most vivid, wondrous dream that I’d ever had. Now, I see it as just one in what was to become a long line of very profound experiences and visions.
~Roger Anthony Briggs~
