At one time or another most of us have met someone for the first time and experienced a feeling about that person that’s beyond causal. Somehow, this particular new person generates a reaction within us that sparks our primal instincts beyond the usual associations registered when meeting a new person.
One of the most baffling encounters occurs when meeting a person for the first time and so strongly sensing you’ve known this person before. It’s an uncanny feeling that too often is dismissed as a “past-life connection” or simply being reminded of another person whom you cannot for the life of you recall.
It might be an instant dislike or an affinity, even those “love at first sight” moments. Whatever the case, there’s a short-term overwhelm happening while we’re taking their measure, a subconscious reading. Personally, I’ve always been taken aback by these moments, so much so that it can prevent me from being able to react in expected social dialogue. I’m preoccupied, trying to observe what is it that’s so charging me and why. There’s a kind of knowing, a recognition taking place that’s occurring down in the subconscious — or possibly through some astral dimension.
Is this experience similar to déjà vu? Cognitive science explains this sensation as a chemical reaction in the brain which floods our senses with a feeling that we’ve lived the moment before. Perhaps something similar is happening upon meeting people who cause this effect? I’m not buying it, however, and here’s why.
There have been several times in my life when this sensation occurred, and it was shared mutually with the person whom I had just met. In effect, we’re both having the same feeling that we’ve known each other before, somehow, somewhere. The most vivid example I will share is from a trip to China. I was in a small village in a remote area, walking along a canal with my Chinese hosts. Approaching us was another group, all Chinese, and upon passing each other, this one Chinese gentleman stops and turns; simultaneously, I was doing the exact thing. There we were, facing each other, both of us grinning like school children, with tears forming in our eyes.
He spoke no English and I no Mandarin, yet we were both speaking softly to each other. My Chinese guide returned to my side, providing translation:
“This man says he knows you. Ask where have you been?” my guide said.
“I feel like I know him too, somehow,” I replied, “Has he ever been to California?”
“No, he says he’s never been outside of China,” my guide continued, somewhat perplexed and embarrassed by our exchange.
“But I know him,” I protested. “We, we were friends, good friends, but I cannot remember where or when?”
“That’s what this fellow just said about you,” my guide lamented, feeling such talk inappropriate.
“I know, you didn’t have to translate. I knew what he was saying,” I answered, trying to control my emotions.
“This strange person, he says, he says he misses you,” the guide stated, now officially embarrassed.
“I miss you too, my old friend,” I said, staring into the man’s eyes.
We exchanged business cards, and he bowed to me, and I to him. We shook hands, and then, much to the horror of my guide, this total stranger and I embraced. Somewhere in a cluttered cubbyhole I still have his card, my long lost friend who has slipped back into the ethers.
Yet, what I actually want to speak to is something quite different from my warm Chinese anecdote. This is a vastly more unsettling subject — encountering someone who does not read as a human being. By that, I mean there’s something so otherly about the person that, at the visceral level, you can’t ignore your reaction.
This might not be a common experience for most people, but among my spiritual colleagues, we’ve spoken of this kind of encounter, so it’s not just me. There are myriad theories as to what’s going on here, the prime one being that these are alien beings from various star systems composed as hybrids of animal, fairy, cyborg, or other essences who live within a human form and have agendas that may be beneficial for or malevolent toward the human race.
There’s a plethora of literature on such things readily found in metaphysical bookstores, not to mention online. And the subject matter can range from angels and spirit guides to a complex ontological philosophy that incorporates quantum physics. Yet, the common thread to all of this is the perception that we, meaning us humans, are not alone. And this of course opens the question: What is the agenda of these others — why are they here? This is where the speculation ramps up and the wormholes open.
While it can be amusing to think of certain individuals fitting such a description, it’s a serious matter for those who monitor this subject. Movies and books have employed this concept to create various storylines for their plots. I, too, in my books have used this sense that other beings, non-humans, are among us. In Call of the Forbidden Way, an alien threat to colonize our planet is at the core of the drama. But I didn’t come to this idea casually. No, I have always felt an awareness of other beings active on our planet. And I have had my share of encounters with an assortment of folk who, to me, simply didn’t register as authentically human — some far from it.
So, while prevailing logic requires me to present such ideas as fiction, I write with much more than a casual what-if attitude on the subject. Perception, be it accurate or not, is how we experience the world. My own perception seems to register that we’re not alone.
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