Powerful blessings for living well bestowed by our friends the Sasquatch. Through the Big Creek Portal, into Cross Over, lies the Sasquatch Stream of Consciousness. No darkness survives there.
What we think and hold with persistence will manifest, today, tomorrow or in some distant future yet out of reach.
Powerful blessings are created without doubts, they are the totality of certainty.
Blessings have no weight. They have no force. They are effortless as the sunrise.
I have an assortment of folktale and children’s books for sale.
The ultimate Bigfoot book, Bigfoot Blueprint, contains my Whole Conversations With Sasquatch series. Here you will find Bigfoot encounters of the third kind, Bigfoot mind speak, cloaking, telepathy and portals to other dimensions. This epic and awesome adventure is sure to make you wonder if not believe.
The Bigfoot Parchments is a hodgepodge of Sasquatch sayings, philosophy and poetry. Both contemplative and enlightening.
“The Wild Canary” is a delightful children’s picture book for nature loving kids. This stunning bird book is a piece of real life art without any fictional bird characters. It presents the wild canary as the beautiful yard bird a child can bond with for real.
The “Kirtland’s Warblers” is another delightful and charming children’s picture book. It is a companion kid’s book to The Wild Canary. Both of the above children’s bird books were illustrated by Michigan artist Linda Faith Widing, widely know for her quick sketch talents for capturing the beauty and personalities of nature.
At this moment in time there are dire rumblings reverberating from inside the Bigfoot dimension of Cross Over. If you are at all attuned to the Sasquatch, just listen, you will hear the unease and feel the agitation. The Bigfoot’s tolerance of man’s relentless attacks on Planet Earth is reaching a breaking point. Geo engineering and genetic modification agendas, coupled with AI programs, has the Sasquatch mightily pissed. If I fell into the category of one of those blind science assholes, I’d stay clear of the Forest People.
Cross Over is book 2 in the Conversations With Sasquatch book series. It reveals hidden dimensions and supernatural powers the Bigfoot/Sasquatch use to remain elusive to even the most devoted and skilled Bigfoot hunters. Cross Over is book 2 in the Conversations With Sasquatch book series. All the books in my book series are a combination of fact and fiction, is based on my real life Bigfoot encounters.
I am the author of many Bigfoot/Sasquatch books and a lifelong experiencer committed to exploring the intersection of the physical and spiritual realms. Through my Conversations With Sasquatch series, I seek to spark thoughtful dialogue about hidden dimensions of reality and humanities’ evolving awareness.
As a result, I have written and published several books on the subject, including: Bigfoot Parchments.
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I have certainly had my share of close encounters of the third kind. Indeed, many people have, and the existence of portals to other dimensions is becoming more and more commonplace as a result. Nonetheless, the physical still remains the focus it when it comes to Bigfoot popularity. But, I am of a different ilk. For for example, the following poem came to me via a mind-speak conversation with a Sasquatch named Loquius, my Bigfoot Guardian.
Bigfoot Names
*
In the Temple of Years
each Bigfoot birth
has it’s stone,
a permanent marker
and symbolic role
measuring strength, wisdom
or capability. The stone
is intentionally placed
and named with prayer…
it bears the weight
of all eternity.
Richard Rensberry, Michigan Author of Conversations With Sasquatch “Cross Over”
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During my Bigfoot encounters I have grown more and more open and aware of their presence in our non physical realities. Since we are prone to dismiss these communications as imaginary, I have learned to trust and not shrug-off them off as figments of my imagination. Thus, even encounters with ghosts and other entities have become more prevalent. As a result, I expect the future has some more interesting experiences and hidden dimensions readily at hand.
The Sasquatch are all about vibrations. This creekside glyph, depending on our vibrational response, can tell them in an instant if our intentions are pure or deceptive. How attuned are you to the vibrational dimension and language of the Bigfoot? What does this glyph message they left behind say to you?
What would be your response?
*********************************************************************************************************I will disclose more about this particular glyph in a future post. It had a meaningful significance beyond the sense of humor of which I mistook it for at the time I encountered it near one of my favorite fishing holes.
*********************************************************************************************************”The Bigfoot Blueprint” A book of truths, fantasy and Conversations With Sasquatch.
What is so often misunderstood is the Sasquatch ability to transform themselves into other entities. One such entity is the crow. I call this transformation, “transmigration”, meaning they can migrate or shape shift. Another entity they commonly assume are trees. This ability, whether actual or an illusion, is how they seem to suddenly just vanish into thin air. Bigfoot’s inter-dimensionality pretty much makes anything possible, including invisibility at will.
Excerpt from Conversations With Sasquatch, The Encounter.
Chapter 2
Talking to a Sasquatch would probably qualify me as being a delusional schizophrenic or having some such mentally manufactured label from the Diagnostic Manual of Mental Disorders. Rest assured, I am more sane than the writers and creators of that psychiatric flap-trap. As a Sasquatch said in our first conversation a little over a week ago, “Humans are blind to the world of the Sasquatch.”
Exactly why I was chosen, I haven’t got a clue. All I know is that today I have an appointment to meet with him once again near that auspicious cedar ridge that runs along the banks of Big Creek, in Lewiston, Michigan.
I do not take this meeting lightly. The fear that was inexplicably absent during our first encounter is in full force as I lock my Mazda and begin my traipse into the greening woods.
As always, I find myself getting unwound and relaxed by the sanctuary of the forest. There is a lush carpet of fresh moss, wintergreen and huckleberry as I begin to cut a trajectory toward the ridge where I had previously shared mushrooms with a being that claimed to be immortal. As I walk, I am suddenly struck with the notion that Sasquatch might like a bag of fresh wintergreen. I, myself, love to chew on the minty leaves, which are cool and relaxing. I kneel down, pluck a new sprout and pop it into my mouth. I then gather a few handfuls of the dark green fingers and slip them into the small Ace Hardware bag I always carry for gathering purposes. I succinctly remember Sasquatch telling me that humans had once been much more attuned to the gathering of the medicinal and nutritional gifts of nature. Is it possible my penchant for such was what had drawn this Bigfoot to engage me?
I don’t know. There are doubts. I’m still feeling a bit dumbstruck and unbelieving. I have to work quite hard to suspend my recurring thoughts that Sasquatch was nothing more than a figment of my overactive imagination. Had I eaten (like some have suggested) the wrong mushroom by mistake? Was it possible I had simply hallucinated and manufactured my whole Sasquatch experience from the far reaches of a childhood memory?
Over the years, I must admit, I really hadn’t thought much about Sasquatch. I’ve had no particular reason to do so. I’m a busy person, both purposeful and happy. I think little of the past and focus on the present and the future.
As I continue my trek towards Big Creek, my childhood memory of Sasquatch floods back as if a dam has burst inside my head. I find myself emotionally present in the excitement of the time, the utter bug-eyed blinking and wiping of my eyes during those fateful moments I laid eyes on him bathing in the river near my fishing hole. I am overcome with a hot flash of perspiration. Adrenalin rushes and vibrates through my body as I re-experience running helter-skelter up the bank of the river to reach the deer camp where my father is playing poker and drinking whiskey with his pals.
I breathlessly arrive as Al Kaline is stepping up to the plate with runners on first and third in the top of the ninth in a tight game against the Minnesota Twins. My dad and his pals are glued to the tinny squawk of a small transistor radio, intently listening as Ernie Harwell sets the stage for the next pitch.
I shake my father’s arm violently to get his attention and shriek incoherently about the monster bathing in the river. My dad’s eyes blink rapidly as he slowly tries to bring me into focus. When he finally registers my presence, he frowns uncomprehendingly and remains as lethargic as a toad.
“Not now!” he grumbles.
I tug and push even harder, beseeching him to come and see the hairy man that looks bigger than a bear.
“Sorry guys,” he groans, “the young tyke is always dreaming up ghosts and things that go bump in the night.”
“No!” I exclaim, “He’s really there! He’s down by the river where the sunfish are!”
“Now son, go play. We’ll all be ready to leave in a few. Right now the Tiger’s are trying to beat the Twins. Let your dad finish his game.”
Forgotten and dismissed, I am overwhelmed by the force of his rejection and disbelief. Coming from my dad, it presses down hard on my young heart. He hadn’t even considered for a moment that what I had seen could possibly be true. I was just a kid with nothing better to do than make things up. And yes, I often did make things up, just not Sasquatch taking a bath in the river.
As I neared Big Creek I shook off the memory and began my gradual descent down the ridge toward our destined meeting spot. As I did so, the hackles on my neck suddenly stood straight up and goose flesh prickled down my arms and back. Once again, the woods fell eerily silent. All my senses snapped to the present and I reflexively reached for my absent Beretta which I had purposely left in the car.