There was a time when I didn’t believe in the existence of so many beings. Like Mulder in The X-Files,
I wanted to believe. I believed in some possibilities, some beings.
Sasquatch, bigfoot, check.
Short, grey aliens… probably.
Loch Ness monster… probably.
Goblins, gnomes, elves… are you crazy?
Then My Intuition Opened My Eyes, My World, to the Magical.
Now, I rarely question the existence of the beings I encounter. The only question creeping in my mind from time to time is the doubt of such an awesome experience. Can this all be real? I often wonder if I’ve opened a door to a magical world, been transported elsewhere, and left our world behind.
In a sense, I did.
As I traverse the plains of consciousness,
I’ve run into many beings; Zetas, Sasquatch, wolf men, gnomes, elves, blue men, giants, gods & goddesses, and many more.
This year,
I added insectoids to my list. If you asked me a year ago, “Do insect beings exist, beings from other worlds who look like the insects flying around our gardens?” I would have shrugged, entertained the idea, and said something like, “We don’t know what’s out there. Maybe there are insect beings.”
I now know the truth.
Insectoids, beings who have the physical appearance of our own insects, do exist. I shouldn’t have doubted it, after all, I talk to insects.
On September 11, 2020,
I’d enjoy a conversation of excitement and deep sadness with one insectoid.
It went something like this.
The Intuitive Conversation With an Insectoid
Note,
some beings communicate through feelings and ideas, not speech. This was one of those encounters. It’s hard to explain in words if you’ve never experienced it. That’s why most of this conversation lacks dialogue. I translate the feelings into the understood meanings when I journal and include the exact words when they do use language.
As I meditated, a pain shot through my right toe. Often, you’ll feel a physical sensation when someone is trying to grab your attention. For me, it happens in my toes and my fingers as they ping those parts of my body to gently wiggle them and say hello.
I found myself looking at an insect-like being. It felt large and looked much
like a wasp, but stood like a praying mantis. When I said something like, “Oh, you’re a mantid,” the being was adamant it was
“not a mantid.”
Adamant.
I still hear its voice when I write mantid, or refer to it as a mantid, because I’m not sure what to call it.
While looking into the shadow of its shape, featureless and dark in the night time jungle with a moon rising behind it,
I felt it sifting through my mind for memories, memories of insects and animal encounters. It sent me a picture of a beautiful flower with a bee. Its intention felt crystal clear.
Help the Bees.
I said there’s not much I can do.
It asked why I couldn’t do more. We briefly exchanged thoughts and images as an explanation grew between us. I showed it images of our gardens with bees flying around. There’s a mason bee home on our porch. Sharing with it my intention to grow clover one day, I sent images of a clover field.
It asked if we were inside. I took this to mean living inside. I said, “Yes.”
Satisfied, or unsatisfied since losing bees isn’t something I can help with,
we moved on.
It pulled a memory of a bee crawling up my leg in the car where I waited for ten minutes before I could pull over and let it fly free.
The memory brought a pleasantness to my telepathic partner.
Then he saw my hydroponic garden, a garden praying mantises and other insects loved to visit. Once again,
I felt his happiness, a deep pleasure in seeing these lovely memories.
Suddenly, an image of me killing chipmunks appeared. He immediately questioned, “Why kill this?”
I explained the issue with them destroying the garden, plants, and other things. It’s always my last resort, but sometimes we have to protect everything else.
He understood.
Then he asked about the ants in my apartment. “Why kill them?”
With the warming of summer, we found ourselves under attack by a horde of those tiny ants, the ones who never leave. Unfortunately, I had to use terro. I tried to connect with the queen before doing so. We had an agreement, and then they breached the agreement, as tiny ants do.
I seem to have better telepathic luck with larger ants.
It Continued Searching My Memories
As it searched, I asked if
it searched my memories or if I somehow gave it the information. It said it searched. Connecting to memories was a new thing for me.
After my questioning, it showed me a memory of it being born and held in insect-like hands. Then a memory of it eating another insect, possibly a beetle, appeared. Then it’s first memory of flying.
There was a joy in this insect as it connected with me, sharing its life and me sharing mine. I couldn’t search its memories on my own. It had to show them.
It said, “Searching memories gets easier with time.”
It said it has watched me in the woods and by the creek.
I saw a memory of it standing beside a creek, watching me from the opposite side without me knowing it. This creek is one I travel to often. It asked why I didn’t cross the creek water. I remember the day perfectly.
As I crouched by the creek trying to avoid hikers entering the trail, I reached in and felt the fresh, cold water flowing down the mountain.
I never knew the insectoid was there. It was the end of the day, and I was energetically drained.
Why Didn't It Show Itself?
I asked why it didn’t show itself at the creek. Even during the meditation, I only saw the shadow of its form with a detail here or there as the moonlight of its home glinted off its body.
Then
I felt the sadness. It showed me images of humans and their fear.
A thick cloud of sadness filled my soul as it asked, “
Why are humans afraid?” I understood the subject to be, Why are humans afraid
of me?
I explained movies, media, fear of the unknown, fear of insects, and other such things.
It asked, “
You’re not afraid?”
I said, “Not right now. Not in our minds. Maybe in person.”
Instantly, the dark shadow dropped away. A bright light lit up the image of the insect being with a close up of its face.
It stared at me and asked, “
What about now?”
With sincerity, I responded, “No, you’re beautiful.”
It looked like a
cross between the head of a praying mantis and a wasp with brown and gray tones, almost dirty in complexion.
The experience was magical as
we felt the shared joys, sadnesses, worries, and other emotions in our minds. Every time I think about this experience, even writing it now, it brings a tear to my eye. I know the sadness and loneliness it feels. This being wants to connect with humans, but fear keeps humans from experiencing the loving embrace of something not from this world.
Our Conversation Returns to Bees
At one point, I asked about technology. As I viewed it, it didn’t seem to have any technology around it, unlike other beings where you can tell they have advanced tech by looking at their clothing, their world, and the images they show you.
Its species “uses its mind” and doesn’t have much need for technology, something I would experience repeatedly with species throughout the cosmos.
Then it returned to the bees. It felt frustrated. We continued our conversation about how I can help.
It was adamant we try to do more, and I will when I can.
It later asked if I would like to go see their world.
Excited at the prospect, but cautious, it felt my caution and said, “To gain a new perspective.”
I answered, “Yes, only if I can come back.”
It said it would be back for me.
When the conversation ended, it jumped into the air, disappearing into a night sky on its world. I disconnected with its exit, falling back into my body and the three-dimensional world.
Will It Be Back?
I believe it will be back for me.
Any time a conscious being says they'll do something, they almost always do. When and where? I don’t know. It could be another telepathic link where it shows me its world through its eyes. It could be something more physical. I’ve been through portals, on ships, and elsewhere. When the time comes, I’ll join my new insect friend in an effort “to gain a new perspective.” Who knows, maybe its waiting for me when I take my next adventure into the woods.
What Should You Take Away From Reading This Experience
Insectoids are very real and
shouldn’t be feared.
Conscious beings can and will search your memories.
We can see their memories, too.
I feel it searched for memories of insects to gauge my response to what most people consider ugly, creepy, horrifying creatures. When we understand the others in the universe look nothing like us, we benefit from full trust and communication with them. This being hid its form, showing me the reality, one most would consider a monster from a horror movie, after we discussed fear.
This was a loving, kind hearted insect-like being living on a planet somewhere in our universe, just trying to survive and connect with other loving beings.
Don’t let your first response be fear.
How would you like it if every person responded to you with fear?
Did You Like Reading About This Experience of Shared Memories?
Read about the wolf man who searches my memories of fantasy artists.