My son and a friend went to Canada for a week-end workshop to contact  aliens. Before he left, Nathan asked me to not tell Grandpa Nesbit. I promised, but he didn’t have to ask. I would never tell my father, but I had my own reasons. 

            Nathan and I agree it is more logical to believe there are other worlds with intelligent inhabitants than to think out of the billions and billions of solar systems ours is the only one. He read Dr. Steven Greer’s book Hidden Truth, Forbidden Knowledge and learned Greer offered workshops on connecting with aliens. There was one was in Canada within driving distance. My son didn’t go as a committed believer. He wanted to see if Dr. Greer was on the level or crazy. I understood that.

            It is very difficult to prove aliens “visit” us. But something happened to me. And I feel the evidence every day.

            Before I tell you that story, forget the Hollywood images of aliens. If they can traverse galaxies, they have solved problems of space travel we haven’t and are advanced to stages beyond what can imagine. It may not be necessary for aliens to land in spaceships on earth to communicate or interact. I know that is a weak argument, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. Around 1844 the US patent office closed because it was believed nothing more could be invented. Turned out that was premature. 

            None of us know what is possible.

            At the week-end retreat, Dr. Greer explained his work, shared his experiences, and prepared those that wished to go into the woods to welcome extraterrestrials to visit. They participated in a group meditation and observed the night sky and patterns of movement. There were lights that appeared in formations of three or more and then split off in different directions. These lights didn’t have predictable trajectories of aircraft and satellites but there were no definite interactions.

            When Nathan returned, he decided to hold a week-end “welcoming” event at my friend’s farm. Her farm has been used for Native American sweat lodges and vision quests. It is beautiful land and away from major cities. It seemed like a place aliens might feel they could visit. Dr. Greer says they are very sensitive to human’s fear and rarely appear uninvited.   

            I’ve been ready for this for a long time. When I was eight, I had an out of body experience and decided I was an alien that had taken over a human. I silently said good bye to all my toys, my dog and my family. I waited for the aliens to take me home, but they didn’t come. Maybe it wasn’t yet time. I knew this could be my imagination, so I never told anyone. But I never forgot. 

            My ninth-grade science project was on UFO’s. For the Science Fair, I needed to create a display. One my father’s research colleagues had created a UFO detector that was set up in his back yard. My father thought it was ridiculous, but I could create a model for the fair. I pretended I wasn’t excited. My unspoken plan was to build a real one in the future when I had my own house.

My father took me to interview the man in his home. He talked fast without making eye contact as he explained his theories. I was a little disappointed. He seemed loony. But maybe it was because he was really a genius.

            To be taken seriously he needed proof. He had not yet seen a UFO and since he could not watch for them 24 hours a day, he invented a detector so he would be alerted when one was in the area. He took us out to the backyard to show us his invention.  It was huge. The base was a wood square about a yard’s length on each side. There were 6-foot poles on each corner that connected to the top of the structure which was a square slightly smaller than the base. Suspended from top was a wire with a large magnet tied to the end. The magnet rested inside a copper ring rigged up to the four poles and was wired to a siren. It was a very simple design. It looked like something my brothers and I could have come up with.

            He demonstrated how it worked. He held a toy airplane and flew it close to the detector. When the toy plane was very, very close to the magnet it moved toward the plane, touched the cooper ring, and sounded the alarm. If this were a real UFO, he would hear the alarm and run out with his camera to snap the picture. If he was at work, his wife would do it.  He asked if I had any questions. The only one I had, I couldn’t say.  “Are you an idiot?” 

            The whole time my father had been quiet. He listened, nodded his head a couple times, thanked the man for taking time to show us, and shook hands goodbye. On the drive home Dad remained silent. It was always tricky to question an adult’s wisdom with my father. It led to a lecture on respecting elders and being too big for my britches.  I told him I had a few questions I didn’t ask because I thought it would sound rude. “Wouldn’t anything metal attract the magnet? Like commercial airplanes or even lawn mowers? ” And “Wouldn’t the UFO have to be very close for it to go off?” And “How does he know that an alien aircraft would be made of metal?  Couldn’t it be made from an element our earth doesn’t have?”  My dad knew him professionally, but I asked, “Is he a real scientist?” I thought maybe he was an accountant or the custodian, and science was his hobby. My father started to laugh and because belly laughs made him cough and gasp for breath, that was a dangerous thing for him to do when driving.  

            I didn’t know what to do about my science project. It was too late to back out. My teacher had already approved my proposal and it was due in a week. Dad suggested I finish it and write my opinion in a concluding statement. The project received second-place. My classmates enjoyed playing with the detector. Sadly, no one questioned the premise. 

            I used to feel bad for this man, who must have lost his mind going after his dream of seeing aliens. I didn’t want to become like him, but I didn’t want to miss them when they came. For years Dad proudly told the story that his daughter was smart enough not to be taken in by a “UFO nut”. So, when my son asked me to not tell grandpa about his exploration into aliens that was not a problem. I had no intention of spoiling one of the few times my father declared me intelligent. 

            To prepare for the  “welcome event” we were to read Dr. Greer’s book and become open to possibilities. But I was busy with work and life, so I skimmed the book. There was a story about a woman in one of his groups who said she was open but when they came, she was terrified so they turned back because they don’t want to frighten people. I wondered if I would be like that. It also sounded like a convenient excuse for a failure.

            Ten people came for the week-end. Nathan and his friend shared what they learned at the workshop and went over the ground rules. No loud talking. Have an open attitude. Welcome them in your mind. We set up chairs close to an open field and waited for dark. This was the first cold night of the fall and the perfect night for a fire, but we couldn’t have one. It was one of the ground rules. 

            As we sat for hours, I got cold. Really cold and frustrated. I tried to keep my mind open, but it wasn’t working. People kept saying they saw something, and I saw nothing. I doubted they were seeing anything either. If Dr Greer was right, the aliens would sense my doubts. Maybe I insulted them. 

            I was about to say I was cold and ready to leave when I began to feel intense heat. It started at my head and traveled down my spine, then throughout my body. It was not like a hot flash that begins under the skin and erupts with full body sweats. This was markedly different. It felt like I was in a sauna but there was no visible heat source. As hot as I was, I didn’t perspire. The people on either side felt warmth radiating from me.  After a few minutes it left but I stayed warm. At the end of the session, we were reminded to continue to pay attention. Note anything unusual. When aliens are welcome and invited, sometimes they come to you individually. 

            We slept in the converted barn. There were a couple rooms with bunk beds, but I chose to sleep away from everyone on a couch in the lounge area. 

            I was tired but couldn’t sleep. I wondered if my own body created the external furnace. Had my brain created a way to “find” aliens? But that made no sense because I wouldn’t expect aliens to come as radiators. And how could my brain make it seem as if it the heat came from outside my body. And why didn’t I sweat? Was this aliens or spirits? How could you tell the difference? Was there a difference? Maybe what we think of as spirits are actually aliens. Or aliens are spirits. Maybe I am a more than little crazy. That may have been my last thought before I fell asleep. 

            During the night, I was awakened by vibrations shooting through my body. The heat I felt earlier was back but this time there was also involuntary body tremors that started at my head, traveled down my body and out my feet. It then came back through my feet and traveled back up and exited from my head. I thought I should be afraid but I wasn’t. I was relaxed and went back to sleep. 

            I could convince myself I dreamt this if it weren’t for the miracle. 

            For two years I had suffered with plantar fasciitis, a heel pain that is at its worst in the morning. It improves throughout the day as the foot is exercised, but it doesn’t go away. I had the condition for over two years in both feet. My morning pain was excruciating. Some days I crawled to the bathroom.

            The morning after “the visit” I got up and walked to the bathroom—-and then danced back. 

            My husband, George, saw the change and didn’t have an explanation other than my own brain healing my body. Maybe, but I didn’t go there with any thoughts about healing myself. How could I subconsciously think aliens would heal me when I didn’t know they did that?  Self-healing requires focus and intention. I had accepted the pain as something I could endure. I wasn’t even doing the recommended treatments. I’m never good at that. Doctors prescribe medications and I forget to take them. It could be my short attention span. Or my rebellion against doing what anyone tells me to do. 

Or perhaps it is because I know this body is on loan.  

But not for long.

They are coming. 

I feel it in my bones.    

By Sharon Nesbit-Davis

A serious dabbler in the Arts...mime/theater performer for 40 years, writer for 15, Visual Artist for 5. Encourager of artistic expression by children of all ages...forever.


  1. Hey, roomie –

    First, I love this post. I seem to remember you telling me about this. I remember everything except the excerpt about your fathers colleague and his ‘alien catcher’. Most excellent observations by the way. You’ve always been intelligent – just not in any way that either your father or your mother would be able to see, comprehend, or honor/respect in any way.

    Next – the day after you’re invitation to join you for the “Writing from the Soul” workshop, I asked REI for Saturday Aug. 27th off. It’s already been scheduled, so I need to find someone to take that shift for me. I’d love to drive with you and spend the weekend writing – with you, Robin and Heidi how could it be anything but an amazing experience ?

    The days since mom’s death have been intensely surreal on so many levels. In many ways I feel that I grieved the slow loss of her ‘right in front of my eyes’ for so long that I’m no longer sure of what grief is. In other ways – I carry this ’slow loss’ grief deep in my bones, and layered into that is all sorts of deep, often piercing feelings.

    I’ve chosen to continue to walk with whatever shows up – inside or outside…..real or not-real. I’m living in a world that is completely unknown to me. Not unknown to color, movement, numbers, words, notes, music, montages of any/all of those…..not even unknown to writing.

    How vastly different our summers have been ! I miss you….driving to C/U for a weekend would be such a gift. I’ll let you know how it goes with work.

    Love, m



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